“We do,” she agrees, pocketing the communicator again. It’s nice to hear him laugh, too, and she has the fleeting thought that she lucked out here in a lot of ways. “A lifetime ago I used to take these all the time.”
"Yeah," she replies, and she smiles at him sidelong. "Used to keep thousands of pictures that way, just scroll through whenever I wanted. Not quite as personal as a journal, but it does the trick."
"No reason you can't," she replies. An idea comes to mind, and she pockets it for another day –– she's gonna have to see what she can finagle. "You'd probably have to work on your angles, though. No more..."
She gestures like she's holding the camera way too low.
"With all the damn tripods you gotta carry around, don't think you can even
make that angle in my day," he points out, grumbling a little. Okay, she
has a point.
“Most of it, people don’t need,” she replies. “But once you’ve had it once, you miss it anyway.”
God knows she got by for eons without much of it, and it’s strange to think that her entire adult life has been more like 1899 than the future the Jetsons promised her when she was a kid.
"I'd miss bein' able to call friends," he admits, as he starts to clamber back down. He knows he can just ask for a door and get it, but it's more fun this way.
“Yup,” she agrees, following. Climbing is just fine by her. “Don’t have to cross town just to see if anyone’s home, don’t have to wonder where someone is in the world, either.”
“That too.” A whole lot of people die because of it. “On the flip side, you can’t disappear with one. Phone companies can track where you are in the world.”
“Phones bounce signals off of radio towers and satellites, big ships in the sky kinda like this one. Every time you send a call, they can tell where you are based on where the closest tower is.“
Well, he's not going to say littering, considering the amount of
cans and bottles he's left strewn across the country. "I'm still on the
damn Barge, and I can't go anywhere else. But it ain't coming home with me."
“Wouldn’t work unless you had the towers anyway,” she replies. “And you don’t need to worry about it showing up in 1899, either. Cell phones didn’t get common until after I was born.”
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
"Don't we make a fine pair?"
He still can't stop being amazed at the technology behind all of this.
no subject
no subject
"I can actually see why. Kinda nice, a memory like that."
no subject
no subject
no subject
She gestures like she's holding the camera way too low.
no subject
He genuinely doesn't sound like he's grasping her point.
no subject
no subject
"...Oh. 's that look funny or somethin'?"
He maybe gets that. Maybe. But also, he's getting the job done!
no subject
no subject
"With all the damn tripods you gotta carry around, don't think you can even make that angle in my day," he points out, grumbling a little. Okay, she has a point.
no subject
"Not built for all this new-fangled technology, huh?"
no subject
no subject
God knows she got by for eons without much of it, and it’s strange to think that her entire adult life has been more like 1899 than the future the Jetsons promised her when she was a kid.
no subject
no subject
no subject
But he knows what he's used to. He'll be okay.
no subject
no subject
no subject
“Phones bounce signals off of radio towers and satellites, big ships in the sky kinda like this one. Every time you send a call, they can tell where you are based on where the closest tower is.“
Or something like that.
no subject
"I'm liable to throw this thing down this mountain right now," he warns her. That's what he thinks about that.
He really, really needs to be able to disappear when he wants to disappear for a while.
no subject
no subject
Well, he's not going to say littering, considering the amount of cans and bottles he's left strewn across the country. "I'm still on the damn Barge, and I can't go anywhere else. But it ain't coming home with me."
no subject
no subject
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)