As you may have noticed, I did not bring out more Philli tonight. I guess she will just fall behind a post. Tomorrow is Saturday, and normally I would post my usual three installments. However, I have a golf game starting at 6:45 in the morning, so my usual morning hours are gone. I will make some effort to make one or two or three posts during the day sometime, but there is no guarantee, especially since I have a friend's graduation party that day. The next day is Sunday, and that day is always chancy, especially because my church is hosting their Church Picnic that day.
Also of note is that the Marathon Week poll has tied! With more votes than any poll has garnered before, Red Rain Fanfiction and Caesar the Troll are tied at 11 votes a piece (making my day, by the way). In the event of a tie, I will probably come up with something devious to do, but I would encourage both sides to go and try to get more readers to vote for their side.
A word of caution, though. Caesar the Troll is approaching its end. A Marathon Week would probably see the end of it in only part of the week. If that happens, I will post some commentary and such on some of the themes that I wrote for it, as well as answer any questions and take suggestions from all of my favorite readers (that is, all of them).
A Red Rain Marathon will consist mostly of alternating Nic and Philli posts, since they are on roughly the same timeline.
Note also that on July 15th I will be gone for a week on a missions trip to Chicago. No posts during that time, which should be right after Marathon Week 1. I have to write a few children's skits for the Bible program each morning... who would like to see some of those?
(And there are whispers of starting filming of The Great EGO soon... though complications still stand in our path).
Friday, June 29, 2012
Crook Q Part 16
My apologies about the hours of delay in posting this. My schedule today has been a bit different today. As a result, there will probably not be a Philli Part 4 today, unless I do it tonight, because that takes a lot of prep-work to get into the Philli voice. Especially because my personality is exactly opposite hers. Incidentally, one of these sentences was actually typed in by my little brother while I wasn't looking, and then when I looked back I just added the period to his sentence and went on. I doubt you can guess what it was. He imitated my writing voice exactly.
And now, our feature presentation:
Nic went to the computer and immediately made requisition for all the information that had been recovered from or about his base. Then he went to work recreating that computer virus his genius assistants had made last time. If the United wanted weapons, that would be a good one to start with. Besides, he wasn't perfectly comfortable with recreating Red Rain. Too much death involved. Maybe the United would be content with some of the rest of his arsenal.
For a few days Nic busied himself working on viruses and bombs and such other delightfuls, spending the evening hours re-wiring doors, trying to hack the food provisions software so that he could get it without asking, and trying to forget that he was under arrest. He was having trouble with that part.
His base on Mars had been made of a lot of glass. With the design of this lab, one would think Unionists were allergic to sunlight. From the few windows, such as the one in his personal apartment, he could only see the walls of buildings towering higher. He had no idea what city he was in, and was not even entirely sure that he was in a North American lab as he had required.
Science progressed at a steady rate. Nic developed a few bombs that pleased him immensely. The accident on Mars had actually been instructive to him. One didn't need all the chemicals he was using to create a sufficiently large explosion. His final model could fit in a long test-tube. When you through it the fragile inner walls would break, mixing the chemicals and blowing the place to pieces. The explosive-proof room saw lots of those.
The virus was working pretty well, too, with what code Nic was allowed to salvage from his old base. Trouble was it would never wipe out all the information on a page. Lot's of stuff would be lost, but he could not for the life of him figure out what part of the code was restricting the deletion.
He had worked over a week on those projects when the statesman came back. He met Nic in his private apartment, or tried to.
The United representative opened the intercom into the apartment and said, "Hello, Q. This is your government contact. Can I come in?"
Nic, who had retired for the day, smiled with glee. "Yes, you may."
Nic laughed inside himself as access was denied and he heard his own voice, "It is my pleasure to inform you..."
Nic then unlocked the door, and the representative opened it, hearing the other of Nic's sound bytes. He did not appear pleased. "Please tell me that was not one of your official projects."
Q answered, "No, just a way of warming myself back into science after being in the Rott for so long."
The representative accepted that answer, but wanted more. He demanded, "I have been sent to be updated on your progress."
Nic regaled him with stories of bombs and the new grenades, and of his substantial progress on the virus. In reality he had made no improvement on the virus, only successfully downloaded it from the information he had been given.
The representative smiled slightly, then asked, "And what of this 'Red Rain?' I am not cleared to be told what the project is, but I am supposed to ask you how far you have come on it."
Nic tried to stonewall, "How can one quantify the feats of science?"
The representative wiped out his smile and demanded, "Give me a number. Fifty percent done? Sixty-six percent? Ninety?"
Nic finished for him. "Two."
The representative sat back in his chair and said, "You know, Q, I've worked with lots of weird cases. I work with all the people let out of prison on work leave." The representative picked up a carrot in his right hand. He held it around the wide end and let his thumb slide up toward the point. "And nearly all of them are uncooperative. We understand that, and are glad to see gradual progress. It reinforces our faith in the basic goodness of mankind when we can see progress in criminals." He returned his gaze to Nic's eyes, "but Nic, when after so long they have done little or nothing," he cracked the carrot in two with his hand, "they must be assimilated or removed."
Nic did not know how to respond. He didn't need to. The statesman kept talking, "For some sectors of people, assimilation just means the removal of bad habits, the re-education of poor ways of thinking. But for criminals, assimilation means going where they will fit in. Crooks fit well in Rott."
Nic began to think he might understand how that Christian girl had felt when she heard him speak. "And I don't think I need to define removal for a man of learning like yourself." He dropped the carrot pieces on the ground, then stood up to go. His boot smashed one piece.
"When I come again, give me a number better than two."
Nic smiled. "Like, three, maybe?"
The representative smiled back, and stepped on the other piece of the carrot.
Nic watched as the statesman went to the door, which gave Nic's recorded voice, "The scientist grants you permission to pass."
As he watched the irritation grow on the back Unionist's head, Nic preempted a response, "And of course, I will also change the sounds to something more appropriate."
The representative felt victory. With a grin he walked away.
Nic re-opened the control panel to his door and used the recording mechanism again, "The scientist welcomes you to the indestructible carrot project."
And now, our feature presentation:
Nic went to the computer and immediately made requisition for all the information that had been recovered from or about his base. Then he went to work recreating that computer virus his genius assistants had made last time. If the United wanted weapons, that would be a good one to start with. Besides, he wasn't perfectly comfortable with recreating Red Rain. Too much death involved. Maybe the United would be content with some of the rest of his arsenal.
For a few days Nic busied himself working on viruses and bombs and such other delightfuls, spending the evening hours re-wiring doors, trying to hack the food provisions software so that he could get it without asking, and trying to forget that he was under arrest. He was having trouble with that part.
His base on Mars had been made of a lot of glass. With the design of this lab, one would think Unionists were allergic to sunlight. From the few windows, such as the one in his personal apartment, he could only see the walls of buildings towering higher. He had no idea what city he was in, and was not even entirely sure that he was in a North American lab as he had required.
Science progressed at a steady rate. Nic developed a few bombs that pleased him immensely. The accident on Mars had actually been instructive to him. One didn't need all the chemicals he was using to create a sufficiently large explosion. His final model could fit in a long test-tube. When you through it the fragile inner walls would break, mixing the chemicals and blowing the place to pieces. The explosive-proof room saw lots of those.
The virus was working pretty well, too, with what code Nic was allowed to salvage from his old base. Trouble was it would never wipe out all the information on a page. Lot's of stuff would be lost, but he could not for the life of him figure out what part of the code was restricting the deletion.
He had worked over a week on those projects when the statesman came back. He met Nic in his private apartment, or tried to.
The United representative opened the intercom into the apartment and said, "Hello, Q. This is your government contact. Can I come in?"
Nic, who had retired for the day, smiled with glee. "Yes, you may."
Nic laughed inside himself as access was denied and he heard his own voice, "It is my pleasure to inform you..."
Nic then unlocked the door, and the representative opened it, hearing the other of Nic's sound bytes. He did not appear pleased. "Please tell me that was not one of your official projects."
Q answered, "No, just a way of warming myself back into science after being in the Rott for so long."
The representative accepted that answer, but wanted more. He demanded, "I have been sent to be updated on your progress."
Nic regaled him with stories of bombs and the new grenades, and of his substantial progress on the virus. In reality he had made no improvement on the virus, only successfully downloaded it from the information he had been given.
The representative smiled slightly, then asked, "And what of this 'Red Rain?' I am not cleared to be told what the project is, but I am supposed to ask you how far you have come on it."
Nic tried to stonewall, "How can one quantify the feats of science?"
The representative wiped out his smile and demanded, "Give me a number. Fifty percent done? Sixty-six percent? Ninety?"
Nic finished for him. "Two."
The representative sat back in his chair and said, "You know, Q, I've worked with lots of weird cases. I work with all the people let out of prison on work leave." The representative picked up a carrot in his right hand. He held it around the wide end and let his thumb slide up toward the point. "And nearly all of them are uncooperative. We understand that, and are glad to see gradual progress. It reinforces our faith in the basic goodness of mankind when we can see progress in criminals." He returned his gaze to Nic's eyes, "but Nic, when after so long they have done little or nothing," he cracked the carrot in two with his hand, "they must be assimilated or removed."
Nic did not know how to respond. He didn't need to. The statesman kept talking, "For some sectors of people, assimilation just means the removal of bad habits, the re-education of poor ways of thinking. But for criminals, assimilation means going where they will fit in. Crooks fit well in Rott."
Nic began to think he might understand how that Christian girl had felt when she heard him speak. "And I don't think I need to define removal for a man of learning like yourself." He dropped the carrot pieces on the ground, then stood up to go. His boot smashed one piece.
"When I come again, give me a number better than two."
Nic smiled. "Like, three, maybe?"
The representative smiled back, and stepped on the other piece of the carrot.
Nic watched as the statesman went to the door, which gave Nic's recorded voice, "The scientist grants you permission to pass."
As he watched the irritation grow on the back Unionist's head, Nic preempted a response, "And of course, I will also change the sounds to something more appropriate."
The representative felt victory. With a grin he walked away.
Nic re-opened the control panel to his door and used the recording mechanism again, "The scientist welcomes you to the indestructible carrot project."
Caesar the Troll Part 20
The road the people had built ran straight to his home, but the rubble
heap was gone. Caesar ran for where the entrance should have been and
smashed through the black rock that made the top of the street.
Underneath he found that grey rock that only people could make. His
shaft was filled in.
In grief Caesar ran to the left, following a fork in the road, running for his theater. His song had stopped.
He stumbled along over the smooth road, unaccustomed to such easy routes. The run was shorter, though more awkward, when he arrived.
Where his theater used to be.
Instead of his theater, with the ruins of his parents' bench and Marcus' seat, there was a black road, running nowhere as yet. Off to the side lay a field of large stones, no two left atop on another. Apparently the people hoped to build something new with them.
Caesar fell to his knees, then on to his face. And the king wept there, on the ruins of his castle. His body was racked with the awful sobs that barely made a sound. He could not even grip the ground in his anguish, the black stone being too smooth.
The people found him there, nearly asleep after having cried for so long he was exhausted. He had thrown away the bars of his cage somewhere in the stumbling run, and lay there weaponless. The people came again with their crane and hoisted him up. He was much too dangerous to leave at large, so they lay him in the bed of an open bedded truck and drove away. Then they dropped him into a new cage, and this time made sure to run live wires around all the bars, to deter him from breaking out again.
As Caesar lay there he watched the people recover from the aftermath. Few of them had died, and none had been captured, or at least those that had had been left behind as they all fled from the wrath of the king. Preparations were being made for future defenses, and Caesar watched as a wire was laid at the base of the bridge, against large piles of reddish sticks. How could they hope to burn a bridge made of the king's stones and their own magical, smooth black stuff?
As Caesar lay there in despair, imagining all the glorious days he had lived before the people came, thinking of his precious hairbrush that was covered over, and his carvings now annihilated, he wanted to cry, but had no tears left. And then as he lay with his head on the floor he saw her. She was still smiling as tears rolled down her face. She approached the humming and crackling wires, trying to reach through. So the king pushed he hand away, and tore a few of the wires. He reached his own hand out, and the minute she grasped it her tears were stopped. And the king was glad.
In grief Caesar ran to the left, following a fork in the road, running for his theater. His song had stopped.
He stumbled along over the smooth road, unaccustomed to such easy routes. The run was shorter, though more awkward, when he arrived.
Where his theater used to be.
Instead of his theater, with the ruins of his parents' bench and Marcus' seat, there was a black road, running nowhere as yet. Off to the side lay a field of large stones, no two left atop on another. Apparently the people hoped to build something new with them.
Caesar fell to his knees, then on to his face. And the king wept there, on the ruins of his castle. His body was racked with the awful sobs that barely made a sound. He could not even grip the ground in his anguish, the black stone being too smooth.
The people found him there, nearly asleep after having cried for so long he was exhausted. He had thrown away the bars of his cage somewhere in the stumbling run, and lay there weaponless. The people came again with their crane and hoisted him up. He was much too dangerous to leave at large, so they lay him in the bed of an open bedded truck and drove away. Then they dropped him into a new cage, and this time made sure to run live wires around all the bars, to deter him from breaking out again.
As Caesar lay there he watched the people recover from the aftermath. Few of them had died, and none had been captured, or at least those that had had been left behind as they all fled from the wrath of the king. Preparations were being made for future defenses, and Caesar watched as a wire was laid at the base of the bridge, against large piles of reddish sticks. How could they hope to burn a bridge made of the king's stones and their own magical, smooth black stuff?
As Caesar lay there in despair, imagining all the glorious days he had lived before the people came, thinking of his precious hairbrush that was covered over, and his carvings now annihilated, he wanted to cry, but had no tears left. And then as he lay with his head on the floor he saw her. She was still smiling as tears rolled down her face. She approached the humming and crackling wires, trying to reach through. So the king pushed he hand away, and tore a few of the wires. He reached his own hand out, and the minute she grasped it her tears were stopped. And the king was glad.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
Philli Part 3
Each day I have got a little better at this. Let's hope for continued improvement! I spent about half an our reading Red Rain before writing this just to get in the mood, so we should be good.
I frowned, "That is so... so..."
"Unfair?"
I looked down. I knew that complaining about fairness was no use. "Yes."
"Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you..."
I finished for him, "Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven."
I smiled up at Daddy. He was still so much taller than me.
I asked him, "Habe you seen Cea lately? She doesn't even seem to come out of her house."
My father let go of me. "No, I haven't seen much of her lately. Ephesus is over there now, actually."
I tipped my head, craning my neck back up at him. I stepped backwards to ease the angle. "He's been over there a lot, hasn't he lately."
"These past few days he spends most of his time there."
"There isn't... you don't think, anything..."
Father smiled, "No, he assures me there's not. It's some computer project they're working on, those two braniacs."
I was confused. "I didn't remember Cea being a computer genius..."
"Not on the level that Ephesus is, but Ephesus tells me there's something he needs her for."
"What are they doing?"
"I don't know, Phil."
"Is it something... illegal?"
Father didn't answer. He just pressed his finger over my mouth
I frowned, "That is so... so..."
"Unfair?"
I looked down. I knew that complaining about fairness was no use. "Yes."
"Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you..."
I finished for him, "Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven."
I smiled up at Daddy. He was still so much taller than me.
I asked him, "Habe you seen Cea lately? She doesn't even seem to come out of her house."
My father let go of me. "No, I haven't seen much of her lately. Ephesus is over there now, actually."
I tipped my head, craning my neck back up at him. I stepped backwards to ease the angle. "He's been over there a lot, hasn't he lately."
"These past few days he spends most of his time there."
"There isn't... you don't think, anything..."
Father smiled, "No, he assures me there's not. It's some computer project they're working on, those two braniacs."
I was confused. "I didn't remember Cea being a computer genius..."
"Not on the level that Ephesus is, but Ephesus tells me there's something he needs her for."
"What are they doing?"
"I don't know, Phil."
"Is it something... illegal?"
Father didn't answer. He just pressed his finger over my mouth
Crook Q Part 15
1. My
name change poll is leaning slightly for my real name (and I haven't
even voted yet...) so I am wondering what individual voted "Noooooo!" on
there. Dying with curiosity, almost literally.
2. I started another one. I realized the homepage of my blog can be very daunting at time especially now that I post three times a day. Should I opt for using See More buttons so that everything that is new each day can show up on a single screen without scrolling way down?
Tomorrow you begin your work on whatever it is you are doing. You are free to set your hours, but I advise you to keep up a steady stream of progress if you want to,"
Nic finished for him, "live."
The representative smiled fully, "Yes, that's a good way to put it." He left the apartment after leaving behind a business card, "In case you ever need to contact me."
The statesman waved his hand in front of a censor to the right of the door, and with a green circle and bright little chirp the door opened quickly, sealing behind him as soon he left. Nic snickered, "In case I ever want another Unionist around, I'll be sure to keep him on the top of my list." The door was eerily familiar to Nic; he'd have to fix that.
In his apartment he found some basic tools, most particularly a universal screwdriver. It was a curious invention, made while Nic was on Mars, which could retract it's head into the handle, where it would be reformed into another head if needed. One just had to point the thing at a screw and it would form the right head.
Nic unscrewed the control panel for the door. The wiring was similar to his Martian version. Reaching around inside he found the main motherboard. They hadn't left him the programming disk, so he would have to take the manual road. He pressed the tiny buttons on the massive chip by memory, trying to find how to change the sound the door would make. He hated hearing his Martian chirp of freedom while he was in prison under forced labor.
He finally got that part of the code in, but then he needed a new sound to input. He didn't have any on memory chips. He didn't have any of those anyway. Then he had an idea. He set the motherboard aside and went to his box of orders.
He had no particular desire to read that ridiculous sentence to the box, even if nothing else would hear him. Taking up the screwdriver again he removed the little computer that controlled the lock on the box from the metal face. Crossing a few wires he succeeded in shorting out the mechanism, and the locks opened the box straightway.
The next step took him nearly an hour, but Nic never noticed time passing while science was being done, unless it was going too slow. An hour of wiring and snipping and soldering later, he had wired the microphone of the locked box into the door.
Nic spoke into the microphone, giving it the sound for opening the door, "The scientist grants you permission to pass."
He heard the machine speak it back to him. He smiled.
He did some similar work to change the sound for when access was denied. He said into the microphone, "I am pleased to inform you that I do not want you passing that door."
Nic laughed gleefully to himself. He was having too much fun doing this. He knew exactly what his main off-hours occupation would be: fixing all the doors so that he controlled the access.
After his first little prank, Nic wandered the floor that had was now his sole domain. Not quite as big as Mars, but big enough to do some good science. He had a control room that was arranged very similarly to his on Mars, though without his customized software. There was a blast-resistant testing chamber, complete with robotic arms to do the work around the explosives. Unionists were just pansies. They had obviously never experienced the thrill of mixing together two explosive chemicals and then trying to run before they went off. Not that Nic had done that much, but it had been fun as a kid.
There was a small eating chamber, with food that would be pumped in through shafts from the basement floor, where all the menial, non-science work was done. Yes, there was everything he would need in here.
Nic went to the computer and immediately made requisition for all the information that had been recovered from or about his base. Then he went to work recreating that computer virus his genius assistants had made last time. If the United wanted weapons, that would be a good one to start with. Besides, he wasn't perfectly comfortable with recreating Red Rain. Too much death involved. Maybe the United would be content with some of the rest of his arsenal.
2. I started another one. I realized the homepage of my blog can be very daunting at time especially now that I post three times a day. Should I opt for using See More buttons so that everything that is new each day can show up on a single screen without scrolling way down?
Tomorrow you begin your work on whatever it is you are doing. You are free to set your hours, but I advise you to keep up a steady stream of progress if you want to,"
Nic finished for him, "live."
The representative smiled fully, "Yes, that's a good way to put it." He left the apartment after leaving behind a business card, "In case you ever need to contact me."
The statesman waved his hand in front of a censor to the right of the door, and with a green circle and bright little chirp the door opened quickly, sealing behind him as soon he left. Nic snickered, "In case I ever want another Unionist around, I'll be sure to keep him on the top of my list." The door was eerily familiar to Nic; he'd have to fix that.
In his apartment he found some basic tools, most particularly a universal screwdriver. It was a curious invention, made while Nic was on Mars, which could retract it's head into the handle, where it would be reformed into another head if needed. One just had to point the thing at a screw and it would form the right head.
Nic unscrewed the control panel for the door. The wiring was similar to his Martian version. Reaching around inside he found the main motherboard. They hadn't left him the programming disk, so he would have to take the manual road. He pressed the tiny buttons on the massive chip by memory, trying to find how to change the sound the door would make. He hated hearing his Martian chirp of freedom while he was in prison under forced labor.
He finally got that part of the code in, but then he needed a new sound to input. He didn't have any on memory chips. He didn't have any of those anyway. Then he had an idea. He set the motherboard aside and went to his box of orders.
He had no particular desire to read that ridiculous sentence to the box, even if nothing else would hear him. Taking up the screwdriver again he removed the little computer that controlled the lock on the box from the metal face. Crossing a few wires he succeeded in shorting out the mechanism, and the locks opened the box straightway.
The next step took him nearly an hour, but Nic never noticed time passing while science was being done, unless it was going too slow. An hour of wiring and snipping and soldering later, he had wired the microphone of the locked box into the door.
Nic spoke into the microphone, giving it the sound for opening the door, "The scientist grants you permission to pass."
He heard the machine speak it back to him. He smiled.
He did some similar work to change the sound for when access was denied. He said into the microphone, "I am pleased to inform you that I do not want you passing that door."
Nic laughed gleefully to himself. He was having too much fun doing this. He knew exactly what his main off-hours occupation would be: fixing all the doors so that he controlled the access.
After his first little prank, Nic wandered the floor that had was now his sole domain. Not quite as big as Mars, but big enough to do some good science. He had a control room that was arranged very similarly to his on Mars, though without his customized software. There was a blast-resistant testing chamber, complete with robotic arms to do the work around the explosives. Unionists were just pansies. They had obviously never experienced the thrill of mixing together two explosive chemicals and then trying to run before they went off. Not that Nic had done that much, but it had been fun as a kid.
There was a small eating chamber, with food that would be pumped in through shafts from the basement floor, where all the menial, non-science work was done. Yes, there was everything he would need in here.
Nic went to the computer and immediately made requisition for all the information that had been recovered from or about his base. Then he went to work recreating that computer virus his genius assistants had made last time. If the United wanted weapons, that would be a good one to start with. Besides, he wasn't perfectly comfortable with recreating Red Rain. Too much death involved. Maybe the United would be content with some of the rest of his arsenal.
Caesar the Troll Part 19
A few updates for you all:
1. Red Rain Fanfiction is winning the Marathon Week Poll, but only by three votes. Any Caesar fans out there could reverse it by just recruiting a couple more readers... or else Caesar might be left at a very long cliffhanger.
2. My name change poll is leaning slightly for my real name (and I haven't even voted yet...) so I am wondering what individual voted "Noooooo!" on there. Dying with curiosity, almost literally.
3. I started another one. I realized the homepage of my blog can be very daunting at time especially now that I post three times a day. Should I opt for using See More buttons so that everything that is new each day can show up on a single screen without scrolling way down?
An explosion shook Caesar's train car as small bombs were launched over the river.
Then with a mighty surge, Caesar ripped out the bars of his cage. One by one he tore them out, and the last two he smashed with his fist to bend out of the way. Then he took up a long bar of steel in each hand, and charged out.
That same ridiculous song rang out, muddle over with explosions and the crackle of the shiny guns. The people were being driven back over the bridge en masse, but the beast with the fire nose sat their guarding it, anything that passed. The renegades had come to exterminate, but they had failed to reckon with Caesar.
The king sprinted from his car, waving the massive, shiny steel beams above his head. The people paid no attention to him, being much too concerned with the enemies across the bridge to care about the zoological curiosity. Caesar bounded towards the bridge, his song just breaking for the first long note.
The enemies on the other side noted the strange thing that came running at them with some pause. They had heard rumors of the king of the rocks, but now they saw him. And they laughed. They fully understood why it had been such a game to torment the massive creature.
Caesar bounded across the bridge, moving so quickly that their guns were of no effect. He charged straight for the massive beast with the bright eyes and flaming nose. It was a strange faced creature to say the least, its nose sitting atop its head, and with a glass pane in the middle of its face. It crawled forward on massive belts like centipede legs.
Caesar planted his feet directly in front of it, and watched as the nose turned towards him. He looked through its glass forehead and saw a man back there, laughing. So its brain was run by humans. All the better. There were two in fact.
The one on the left sat moving some rods around, apparently controlling the nose. Caesar lifted one of the steel beams and launched it straight through the glass, shattering it all to pieces and impaling that driver.
The other driver's laughter ended very quickly. He drew out a electrical pistol, designed for paralyzing enemies and shot at Caesar's head. He watched as the blue, crackling electricity enveloped Caesar's body, and Caesar stood still, staring into his eyes. The driver's shot ran out, and Caesar resumed his song, launching his other steel beam into the man's face.
Suddenly numerous shots from the shiny guns were striking him from both flanks, the renegades having arranged themselves for maximum damage. The king rolled under the body of the monster he had slain for cover. Then with his knees against the ground he pressed his back and palms into the under, and with a surge of the song he lifted the machine into the air.
The firing nearly ceased in amazement, and then half of it ended forever as Caesar through the whole monster at those to the right of the bridge, crushing and scattering them, dragging some down into the river.
He charged against the others, the song building and turning, with a monstrous tone it had never had before. The guns lit up his chest, but Caesar cared little. He ran into the crowd of them, and with single punches collapsed their bones, grabbing some and throwing them twenty yards into the river.
Several renegades had captured a building and began shooting at him from three floors up. Caesar ripped out a chunk of the building's stone foundation, then launched it straight for their window, sealing it up.
Then they fled. But Caesar would not leave them to their own devices.
After the bridge had been built an immensely long street had been laid straight in the same direction, straight towards home and the crater. Swarms of renegades fled down the street, wondering why they had never head of this mood of the king of the rocks.
The king pursued them, brandishing a twenty foot I-beam in both hands, ripped from a building. As he caught the tail of the retreating column he swung the rod around, wiping out a dozen of those fleeing, but the banner was still in the front, and Caesar would not let it get away.
On the side of the street Caesar saw another, smaller monster, begin coughing out that smell that he liked. He ran for it, and just before it took off he caught its rear and tipped it over. The driver tried to run, but a single punch from Caesar sent him flying back. Caesar went to the front of the monster and ripped out its guts, in particular one large block with a shaft coming out.
He held the heart of the machine above his head and ran after the renegades until he had closed enough distance. Then he launched the chunk of hot metal after them, and with all its bouncing it smashed many of them.
Then Caesar merely ran and leaped after them, killing with a stroke of his arms each one that had threatened his subject. He pursued them an hour of running, and as they grew faint he gave them more casualties to remember. Then his home was in sight. Or should have been.
The road the people had built ran straight to his home, but the rubble heap was gone. Caesar ran for where the entrance should have been and smashed through the black rock that made the top of the street. Underneath he found that grey rock that only people could make. His shaft was filled in.
In grief Caesar ran to the left, following a fork in the road, running for his theater. His song had stopped.
1. Red Rain Fanfiction is winning the Marathon Week Poll, but only by three votes. Any Caesar fans out there could reverse it by just recruiting a couple more readers... or else Caesar might be left at a very long cliffhanger.
2. My name change poll is leaning slightly for my real name (and I haven't even voted yet...) so I am wondering what individual voted "Noooooo!" on there. Dying with curiosity, almost literally.
3. I started another one. I realized the homepage of my blog can be very daunting at time especially now that I post three times a day. Should I opt for using See More buttons so that everything that is new each day can show up on a single screen without scrolling way down?
An explosion shook Caesar's train car as small bombs were launched over the river.
Then with a mighty surge, Caesar ripped out the bars of his cage. One by one he tore them out, and the last two he smashed with his fist to bend out of the way. Then he took up a long bar of steel in each hand, and charged out.
That same ridiculous song rang out, muddle over with explosions and the crackle of the shiny guns. The people were being driven back over the bridge en masse, but the beast with the fire nose sat their guarding it, anything that passed. The renegades had come to exterminate, but they had failed to reckon with Caesar.
The king sprinted from his car, waving the massive, shiny steel beams above his head. The people paid no attention to him, being much too concerned with the enemies across the bridge to care about the zoological curiosity. Caesar bounded towards the bridge, his song just breaking for the first long note.
The enemies on the other side noted the strange thing that came running at them with some pause. They had heard rumors of the king of the rocks, but now they saw him. And they laughed. They fully understood why it had been such a game to torment the massive creature.
Caesar bounded across the bridge, moving so quickly that their guns were of no effect. He charged straight for the massive beast with the bright eyes and flaming nose. It was a strange faced creature to say the least, its nose sitting atop its head, and with a glass pane in the middle of its face. It crawled forward on massive belts like centipede legs.
Caesar planted his feet directly in front of it, and watched as the nose turned towards him. He looked through its glass forehead and saw a man back there, laughing. So its brain was run by humans. All the better. There were two in fact.
The one on the left sat moving some rods around, apparently controlling the nose. Caesar lifted one of the steel beams and launched it straight through the glass, shattering it all to pieces and impaling that driver.
The other driver's laughter ended very quickly. He drew out a electrical pistol, designed for paralyzing enemies and shot at Caesar's head. He watched as the blue, crackling electricity enveloped Caesar's body, and Caesar stood still, staring into his eyes. The driver's shot ran out, and Caesar resumed his song, launching his other steel beam into the man's face.
Suddenly numerous shots from the shiny guns were striking him from both flanks, the renegades having arranged themselves for maximum damage. The king rolled under the body of the monster he had slain for cover. Then with his knees against the ground he pressed his back and palms into the under, and with a surge of the song he lifted the machine into the air.
The firing nearly ceased in amazement, and then half of it ended forever as Caesar through the whole monster at those to the right of the bridge, crushing and scattering them, dragging some down into the river.
He charged against the others, the song building and turning, with a monstrous tone it had never had before. The guns lit up his chest, but Caesar cared little. He ran into the crowd of them, and with single punches collapsed their bones, grabbing some and throwing them twenty yards into the river.
Several renegades had captured a building and began shooting at him from three floors up. Caesar ripped out a chunk of the building's stone foundation, then launched it straight for their window, sealing it up.
Then they fled. But Caesar would not leave them to their own devices.
After the bridge had been built an immensely long street had been laid straight in the same direction, straight towards home and the crater. Swarms of renegades fled down the street, wondering why they had never head of this mood of the king of the rocks.
The king pursued them, brandishing a twenty foot I-beam in both hands, ripped from a building. As he caught the tail of the retreating column he swung the rod around, wiping out a dozen of those fleeing, but the banner was still in the front, and Caesar would not let it get away.
On the side of the street Caesar saw another, smaller monster, begin coughing out that smell that he liked. He ran for it, and just before it took off he caught its rear and tipped it over. The driver tried to run, but a single punch from Caesar sent him flying back. Caesar went to the front of the monster and ripped out its guts, in particular one large block with a shaft coming out.
He held the heart of the machine above his head and ran after the renegades until he had closed enough distance. Then he launched the chunk of hot metal after them, and with all its bouncing it smashed many of them.
Then Caesar merely ran and leaped after them, killing with a stroke of his arms each one that had threatened his subject. He pursued them an hour of running, and as they grew faint he gave them more casualties to remember. Then his home was in sight. Or should have been.
The road the people had built ran straight to his home, but the rubble heap was gone. Caesar ran for where the entrance should have been and smashed through the black rock that made the top of the street. Underneath he found that grey rock that only people could make. His shaft was filled in.
In grief Caesar ran to the left, following a fork in the road, running for his theater. His song had stopped.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Philli Part 2
After about six seconds the welcome screen of my archaic laptop device
was gone. The United had stopped giving new ones to the Unaccepted.
Apparently their economy wasn't so strong that they could support us
forever.
There had even been rumors of a grim final solution for the "religion problem." We hadn't died out fast enough for the United.
[|]-[|]=[+]=[|]=[+]=[|]-[|]
Going home from school was very different now. Ephesus, Daddy, and Cea were all still jobless. Paperwork in the United was getting slower, and the commander that had replaced Ambrose was still learning the ropes. We would all get together almost every afternoon for some Bible study, and sometimes a little bit of transmitting. Strains of the virus were still being released every so often, which was why we always kept one copy of the Bible offline.
Cea lately had become too busy to come to those studies, though. I meant to ask her why, but never remembered. Every day I rushed home out of the bus to see if my new job had arrived, always hoping that it wouldn't.
The Nolans had actually come back once, trying to convince me to come with them before I turned eighteen. Once I was eighteen they wouldn't be able to adopt me. They wouldn't be able to work that special deal they said they had with our commander. I had reminded them that Ambrose wasn't around any more, and they had just reminded me that money is money to everyone.
There was no word from Mira or Stanyard either. We didn't even know if they had stayed in our city. Outsiders never came in, anyway, and by now that's what they would be. It only took a few months of "good behavior" for the United to take away your Unaccepted status.
I got off the bus and walked toward the house. Daddy was already waving from the window, and something was in his hand. An envelope!
Daddy had wanted to get a job again. He liked being with us at home, but he didn't think it was right for him to be completely away from work.
The window was open. "What's in it, Daddy?" I cried.
I was through the door before he answered. He replied, "A job. For me and for Ephesus in fact. We'll be working in a space-travel manufacturing plant. I work with safety and testing and Ephesus will be working in design."
I hugged him tightly. So perfect for them both, and in the same place, too! Thank you, Lord.
He kept going, "Now, it's only until they can find a Unionist fit for the job..."
I frowned, "That is so... so..."
"Unfair?"
I looked down. I knew that complaining about fairness was no use. "Yes."
"Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you..."
I finished for him, "Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven."
There had even been rumors of a grim final solution for the "religion problem." We hadn't died out fast enough for the United.
[|]-[|]=[+]=[|]=[+]=[|]-[|]
Going home from school was very different now. Ephesus, Daddy, and Cea were all still jobless. Paperwork in the United was getting slower, and the commander that had replaced Ambrose was still learning the ropes. We would all get together almost every afternoon for some Bible study, and sometimes a little bit of transmitting. Strains of the virus were still being released every so often, which was why we always kept one copy of the Bible offline.
Cea lately had become too busy to come to those studies, though. I meant to ask her why, but never remembered. Every day I rushed home out of the bus to see if my new job had arrived, always hoping that it wouldn't.
The Nolans had actually come back once, trying to convince me to come with them before I turned eighteen. Once I was eighteen they wouldn't be able to adopt me. They wouldn't be able to work that special deal they said they had with our commander. I had reminded them that Ambrose wasn't around any more, and they had just reminded me that money is money to everyone.
There was no word from Mira or Stanyard either. We didn't even know if they had stayed in our city. Outsiders never came in, anyway, and by now that's what they would be. It only took a few months of "good behavior" for the United to take away your Unaccepted status.
I got off the bus and walked toward the house. Daddy was already waving from the window, and something was in his hand. An envelope!
Daddy had wanted to get a job again. He liked being with us at home, but he didn't think it was right for him to be completely away from work.
The window was open. "What's in it, Daddy?" I cried.
I was through the door before he answered. He replied, "A job. For me and for Ephesus in fact. We'll be working in a space-travel manufacturing plant. I work with safety and testing and Ephesus will be working in design."
I hugged him tightly. So perfect for them both, and in the same place, too! Thank you, Lord.
He kept going, "Now, it's only until they can find a Unionist fit for the job..."
I frowned, "That is so... so..."
"Unfair?"
I looked down. I knew that complaining about fairness was no use. "Yes."
"Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you..."
I finished for him, "Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven."
Crook Q Part 14
Please make sure to give your opinion on my name-change poll...
Ambrose was tired, but his mind was still sharp. "What is it about that whole freedom notion that catches you so much? Freedom for us is built on the backs of captives. What kind of freedom are you after?"
Nic answered softly through pursed lips, "Freedom from death would be best, but for the present I will settle for freedom from the agents of slavery."
They blindfolded Nic as they took him out of the chopper, then moved him to a van without windows. When he took it off in the van, there still sat Ambrose. Apparently he would be guarded by Ambrose for a long time, a prospect that gave Nic no large amount of pleasure to say the least.
The van flew along the streets at a rate illegal to all normal people's cars, and unsafe for everyone in general.
This time Nic and Ambrose were both to sleepy for any verbal sparring, or physical beatings, and remained in unconscious silence. The van went down a steep incline into the bowels of a white and glass building, illuminated at night by spotlights all around.
They woke Nic with decent politeness, and Ambrose most cruelly. Nic chuckled at the quality of his guard, no longer surprised that his career had never amounted to much.
The United guardsmen escorted Nic very closely in the elevator, Ambrose coming up in the other one. They went to floor eleven, home to the 9000s wing. Each floor except the first two had been given its own wing. They moved Nic quickly to room 611 and pushed him inside, one of the guards, with the most decoration on his uniform, followed after.
The United representative said, "Welcome to your headquarters, Q. I have been instructed to only call you by that name, and that you should only give that as your name. Your movements are restricted to this floor, but therein you are welcome anywhere. We have cleared this floor of all its usual personnel. Any requisitions can be made from the computer at the main desk. You are free to request anything your require, and a sufficient amount for your own personal comfort, but my personal advice to you would be to not push that too far."
The representative reached into his massive pouch that looked almost like a laptop bag. Sure enough, one was inside, but so also was a thin metal box with a digital readout and a microphone on its largest face. He handed that box to Nic and said, "That box contains your orders and more complete instructions, as well as your restrictions and expectations. To open it, just press the button and say, 'I have committed numerous crimes against the United. I now take this opportunity to serve my country once more.'"
Nic laughed, "What an interesting password!"
The representative repressed a smile, "I understand it was made especially for you, and trained for your voice. Anyhow, I will be your contact for all concerns with the government or its agents. If you have any scientific requests, those can be made through the Vice Secretary of Peace-Keeping Science, who's office is on Floor 2. You can reach him via the closed-circuit intercom any time he is in the office. Tomorrow you begin your work on whatever it is you are doing. You are free to set your hours, but I advise you to keep up a steady stream of progress if you want to,"
Nic finished for him, "live."
The representative smiled fully, "Yes, that's a good way to put it."
Ambrose was tired, but his mind was still sharp. "What is it about that whole freedom notion that catches you so much? Freedom for us is built on the backs of captives. What kind of freedom are you after?"
Nic answered softly through pursed lips, "Freedom from death would be best, but for the present I will settle for freedom from the agents of slavery."
They blindfolded Nic as they took him out of the chopper, then moved him to a van without windows. When he took it off in the van, there still sat Ambrose. Apparently he would be guarded by Ambrose for a long time, a prospect that gave Nic no large amount of pleasure to say the least.
The van flew along the streets at a rate illegal to all normal people's cars, and unsafe for everyone in general.
This time Nic and Ambrose were both to sleepy for any verbal sparring, or physical beatings, and remained in unconscious silence. The van went down a steep incline into the bowels of a white and glass building, illuminated at night by spotlights all around.
They woke Nic with decent politeness, and Ambrose most cruelly. Nic chuckled at the quality of his guard, no longer surprised that his career had never amounted to much.
The United guardsmen escorted Nic very closely in the elevator, Ambrose coming up in the other one. They went to floor eleven, home to the 9000s wing. Each floor except the first two had been given its own wing. They moved Nic quickly to room 611 and pushed him inside, one of the guards, with the most decoration on his uniform, followed after.
The United representative said, "Welcome to your headquarters, Q. I have been instructed to only call you by that name, and that you should only give that as your name. Your movements are restricted to this floor, but therein you are welcome anywhere. We have cleared this floor of all its usual personnel. Any requisitions can be made from the computer at the main desk. You are free to request anything your require, and a sufficient amount for your own personal comfort, but my personal advice to you would be to not push that too far."
The representative reached into his massive pouch that looked almost like a laptop bag. Sure enough, one was inside, but so also was a thin metal box with a digital readout and a microphone on its largest face. He handed that box to Nic and said, "That box contains your orders and more complete instructions, as well as your restrictions and expectations. To open it, just press the button and say, 'I have committed numerous crimes against the United. I now take this opportunity to serve my country once more.'"
Nic laughed, "What an interesting password!"
The representative repressed a smile, "I understand it was made especially for you, and trained for your voice. Anyhow, I will be your contact for all concerns with the government or its agents. If you have any scientific requests, those can be made through the Vice Secretary of Peace-Keeping Science, who's office is on Floor 2. You can reach him via the closed-circuit intercom any time he is in the office. Tomorrow you begin your work on whatever it is you are doing. You are free to set your hours, but I advise you to keep up a steady stream of progress if you want to,"
Nic finished for him, "live."
The representative smiled fully, "Yes, that's a good way to put it."
Caesar the Troll Part 18
Annoncement: I am considering changing this blog (and it's URL) to be under my real name. Please give your opinion on that in the poll I have going for a few more days so I can take your thoughts into account!
Men from every side leaped out, carrying the shiny guns. Caesar moaned and fell to his knees before they had even begun shooting. The girl cried out in protests but to no avail as she was quickly caught up by her daddy running through the scene. The others kept a constant beam of hot light on Caesar, who only lay still and twitching under their shots.
After half a minute of constant bombardment the men stopped shooting, reasoning that the large creature before them would be dead. Instead they heard tiny scraps of song coming from his mouth continually, even as smoke rose from his old burns again.
They approached the king carrying a collar and a long chain. He was too weak to resist, even if he would have, as they clasped the collar about his neck latched the other end of the chain to a truck. Then they tested to make sure the collar worked, and Caesar felt all over his body a super-intense version of what he felt when he pressed the bars together in his catacombs.
The truck started, kicking out the smell that the king both liked and hated. The king was too weak to stand and walk, so the truck dragged him over the rocks and through the streets, over the bridge, and into the heart of the survival camp. There they found an old train car, built like a flat-bed except with a steel cage over its top. They picked up the limp body of Caesar in a crane and dropped him into the cage. They were saying that they wondered of what he was made.
They kept Caesar in prison for eleven days, during which he recovered sufficiently from his burns to stand, though he had not the heart to. Once the girl came to visit him, weeping and sobbing. She grabbed at the bars and yanked as hard as she could, hoping Caesar would do the same. Instead Caesar reached out of the cage with one finger, which was almost to thick to fit between the closely-spaced bars, and touched her on the forehead. He looked at her, his expression showing that he could not break out from here, and that she should neither worry nor fear. Before she could respond her daddy came and snatched her away, afraid of what that beast must have done to her mind.
One more day Caesar sat in sad silence. His cage was set within close sight of the bridge, almost able to see where he had been captured. He ever looked that way, towards the dawning of the sun. Early in the wee hours of the morning on the third day, he heard cries of alarm. Then a siren and the hum of those guns. He curled up in his cell, hiding his face and most tender hands. Then he heard the feet go running by, and the hum the charged guns made, and they did not shoot at him.
He looked and saw most terrible sight.
Rolling through the streets on the other side of the bridge were massive machines, with two bright eyes and nose on the top that spun and shot out flames. And men, many of them, charging through the streets. And then that awful banner, the one he had destroyed, but a newer and larger one.
Caesar watched as many people began to try to run across the bridge, but as soon as they were out of cover the bright-eyed machine would spit fire on them.
Caesar stood up.
The girl's mommy was running at his cage, looking to see where her girl was, but she was not there.
Caesar looked around desperately. She had to be safe.
The people didn't know how to use their guns, and the renegades kept coming.
Caesar grabbed the bars of his cage.
An explosion shook Caesar's train car as small bombs were launched over the river.
Then with a mighty surge, Caesar ripped out the bars of his cage. One by one he tore them out, and the last two he smashed with his fist to bend out of the way. Then he took up a long bar of steel in each hand, and charged out.
Men from every side leaped out, carrying the shiny guns. Caesar moaned and fell to his knees before they had even begun shooting. The girl cried out in protests but to no avail as she was quickly caught up by her daddy running through the scene. The others kept a constant beam of hot light on Caesar, who only lay still and twitching under their shots.
After half a minute of constant bombardment the men stopped shooting, reasoning that the large creature before them would be dead. Instead they heard tiny scraps of song coming from his mouth continually, even as smoke rose from his old burns again.
They approached the king carrying a collar and a long chain. He was too weak to resist, even if he would have, as they clasped the collar about his neck latched the other end of the chain to a truck. Then they tested to make sure the collar worked, and Caesar felt all over his body a super-intense version of what he felt when he pressed the bars together in his catacombs.
The truck started, kicking out the smell that the king both liked and hated. The king was too weak to stand and walk, so the truck dragged him over the rocks and through the streets, over the bridge, and into the heart of the survival camp. There they found an old train car, built like a flat-bed except with a steel cage over its top. They picked up the limp body of Caesar in a crane and dropped him into the cage. They were saying that they wondered of what he was made.
They kept Caesar in prison for eleven days, during which he recovered sufficiently from his burns to stand, though he had not the heart to. Once the girl came to visit him, weeping and sobbing. She grabbed at the bars and yanked as hard as she could, hoping Caesar would do the same. Instead Caesar reached out of the cage with one finger, which was almost to thick to fit between the closely-spaced bars, and touched her on the forehead. He looked at her, his expression showing that he could not break out from here, and that she should neither worry nor fear. Before she could respond her daddy came and snatched her away, afraid of what that beast must have done to her mind.
One more day Caesar sat in sad silence. His cage was set within close sight of the bridge, almost able to see where he had been captured. He ever looked that way, towards the dawning of the sun. Early in the wee hours of the morning on the third day, he heard cries of alarm. Then a siren and the hum of those guns. He curled up in his cell, hiding his face and most tender hands. Then he heard the feet go running by, and the hum the charged guns made, and they did not shoot at him.
He looked and saw most terrible sight.
Rolling through the streets on the other side of the bridge were massive machines, with two bright eyes and nose on the top that spun and shot out flames. And men, many of them, charging through the streets. And then that awful banner, the one he had destroyed, but a newer and larger one.
Caesar watched as many people began to try to run across the bridge, but as soon as they were out of cover the bright-eyed machine would spit fire on them.
Caesar stood up.
The girl's mommy was running at his cage, looking to see where her girl was, but she was not there.
Caesar looked around desperately. She had to be safe.
The people didn't know how to use their guns, and the renegades kept coming.
Caesar grabbed the bars of his cage.
An explosion shook Caesar's train car as small bombs were launched over the river.
Then with a mighty surge, Caesar ripped out the bars of his cage. One by one he tore them out, and the last two he smashed with his fist to bend out of the way. Then he took up a long bar of steel in each hand, and charged out.
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
Criminal Q Part 13
Ambrose rolled his eyes in the dark, "Sure, whatever you say. We'll be out of here as soon as I can manage."
Nic raised his eyebrow and combed finger combed his confused locks in concern, "We?"
Ambrose turned and smiled cruelly, "Don't think you can get away from all the Unionists. We aren't as 'fluffy' as some seem to believe."
That night, at about six minutes after nine o'clock, Nic was awakened by his cell door being opened. It was usually locked at night. Two huge men in navy blue uniforms stood at the door. Usually the guards wore grey. Their eyes were like tiny flecks of light.
They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. Nic knew what to do.
He got up, hopping back into his jumpsuit, his hands doing the motions of buttoning it shut as he zipped it instead. The two led him upstairs past sleeping prisoners and awake ones. Those that witnessed the sight were ever after in perpetual wonder that anyone was ever taken from the prison. John and Dowe had managed to get a cell other than their own for the night. No one really cared what they did, so they watched as Q passed by. He had been handcuffed to make things appear different. They guessed that tomorrow it would be said that he had been executed.
A chopper waited, floating on the choppy waters over the wall. It began to fly, hovering past the watchtowers, then dropped down a ladder for Nic. The scientist climbed the first few rungs when the ladder began to be pulled up from inside and the helicopter took off. Nic made a final wave of farewell to the two guards that had already disappeared from the yard, and to the watchtower.
Nic climbed into the small room meant for passengers, and found himself sitting opposite Ambrose.
Ambrose sneered, "The trouble with scientists is that they move to slowly. I got you out of that prison with only a few hours notice."
Nic didn't even honor him with eye-contact. He asked, "Have you ever heard of a breakthrough?"
As Ambrose narrowed his gaze Nic kicked the commander in the shins. "Sometimes we move fast enough," he said.
Ambrose simply sat in silence for a few minutes. As soon as the scientist was installed in the lab Ambrose new he would lose all power over him. Might as well make the flight enjoyable then. Ambrose began again, "Once we are over land again, you should make sure to look down at all the cities you threatened to erase with your terrorism."
"Yes, and you should survey all the people you really have enslaved. We can both measure our accomplishments at once."
Ambrose was tired, but his mind was still sharp. "What is it about that whole freedom notion that catches you so much? Freedom for us is built on the backs of captives. What kind of freedom are you after?"
Nic answered softly through pursed lips, "Freedom from death would be best, but for the present I will settle for freedom from the agents of slavery."
Nic raised his eyebrow and combed finger combed his confused locks in concern, "We?"
Ambrose turned and smiled cruelly, "Don't think you can get away from all the Unionists. We aren't as 'fluffy' as some seem to believe."
That night, at about six minutes after nine o'clock, Nic was awakened by his cell door being opened. It was usually locked at night. Two huge men in navy blue uniforms stood at the door. Usually the guards wore grey. Their eyes were like tiny flecks of light.
They didn't say anything. They didn't need to. Nic knew what to do.
He got up, hopping back into his jumpsuit, his hands doing the motions of buttoning it shut as he zipped it instead. The two led him upstairs past sleeping prisoners and awake ones. Those that witnessed the sight were ever after in perpetual wonder that anyone was ever taken from the prison. John and Dowe had managed to get a cell other than their own for the night. No one really cared what they did, so they watched as Q passed by. He had been handcuffed to make things appear different. They guessed that tomorrow it would be said that he had been executed.
A chopper waited, floating on the choppy waters over the wall. It began to fly, hovering past the watchtowers, then dropped down a ladder for Nic. The scientist climbed the first few rungs when the ladder began to be pulled up from inside and the helicopter took off. Nic made a final wave of farewell to the two guards that had already disappeared from the yard, and to the watchtower.
Nic climbed into the small room meant for passengers, and found himself sitting opposite Ambrose.
Ambrose sneered, "The trouble with scientists is that they move to slowly. I got you out of that prison with only a few hours notice."
Nic didn't even honor him with eye-contact. He asked, "Have you ever heard of a breakthrough?"
As Ambrose narrowed his gaze Nic kicked the commander in the shins. "Sometimes we move fast enough," he said.
Ambrose simply sat in silence for a few minutes. As soon as the scientist was installed in the lab Ambrose new he would lose all power over him. Might as well make the flight enjoyable then. Ambrose began again, "Once we are over land again, you should make sure to look down at all the cities you threatened to erase with your terrorism."
"Yes, and you should survey all the people you really have enslaved. We can both measure our accomplishments at once."
Ambrose was tired, but his mind was still sharp. "What is it about that whole freedom notion that catches you so much? Freedom for us is built on the backs of captives. What kind of freedom are you after?"
Nic answered softly through pursed lips, "Freedom from death would be best, but for the present I will settle for freedom from the agents of slavery."
Philli Part 1
Graduation day. I was finally being booted out of the school I had never wanted to go to anyway. That morning I had put on my favorite skirt and my usual sweater. The day wasn't special if you were Unaccepted. Mostly it just meant another nice long lecture from my teacher. But today I would enjoy it. I would relish in the defeat that monstrous school suffered.
Ever since I had got back in Camp not another one of us had left. All three of us "backward unproductive" ones who had "never seen the glory of the United." A few new kids were coming up through the ranks, and even fewer of them would make it all the way out, but we had.
I always wondered why they still sent such a huge bus through camp to pick up three kids. Probably to remind us how big the Outside was and how tiny we were. They'd moved the concrete walls every chance they got, too. Patience was wearing thin in the United, but of course, we could hardly expect any from the atheists.
I don't know why we even went to the classroom that day. My teacher didn't teach us anything we hadn't heard before. All day he went on about this and that about the United, and what glorious lives we would have if we just signed the file today and went out and got jobs with the great education we had received at the expense of the benevolent...
I didn't really care about the rest. I just tried not to look at him. His voice almost sounded funny if you didn't pay attention to what he was saying.
Then there was the graduation ceremony. The three of us stood there with the goofy hats on and they moved the tassel over. They didn't do this in any of the Outside graduations anymore. They just did it here to help us remember how old-fashioned we were. In case we could forget.
The bus took us home for the last time. No more to do with that synagogue of Satan. They usually gave kids a few months before after graduation before they were assigned a job somewhere in the outside, though of course they were always forced to live in the Camp.
I was glad for that. I liked Street 17, in its own way. Everybody I knew lived here.
On the way home I took out my ancient reader, which groaned any time it was turned on. My dinosaur of a machine was grumpy every day. There hadn't been any new arrivals of late, so I hadn't been making copies for a long time. I didn't mind that, since it meant less snooping from the new commander. He was a lot more in to his job than the last one. I would have preferred to be making lots of new copies for lots of new inmates. But that wasn't how things were to be.
After about six seconds the welcome screen of my archaic laptop device was gone. The United had stopped giving new ones to the Unaccepted. Apparently their economy wasn't so strong that they could support us forever.
There had even been rumors of a grim final solution for the "religion problem." We hadn't died out fast enough for the United.
Ever since I had got back in Camp not another one of us had left. All three of us "backward unproductive" ones who had "never seen the glory of the United." A few new kids were coming up through the ranks, and even fewer of them would make it all the way out, but we had.
I always wondered why they still sent such a huge bus through camp to pick up three kids. Probably to remind us how big the Outside was and how tiny we were. They'd moved the concrete walls every chance they got, too. Patience was wearing thin in the United, but of course, we could hardly expect any from the atheists.
I don't know why we even went to the classroom that day. My teacher didn't teach us anything we hadn't heard before. All day he went on about this and that about the United, and what glorious lives we would have if we just signed the file today and went out and got jobs with the great education we had received at the expense of the benevolent...
I didn't really care about the rest. I just tried not to look at him. His voice almost sounded funny if you didn't pay attention to what he was saying.
Then there was the graduation ceremony. The three of us stood there with the goofy hats on and they moved the tassel over. They didn't do this in any of the Outside graduations anymore. They just did it here to help us remember how old-fashioned we were. In case we could forget.
The bus took us home for the last time. No more to do with that synagogue of Satan. They usually gave kids a few months before after graduation before they were assigned a job somewhere in the outside, though of course they were always forced to live in the Camp.
I was glad for that. I liked Street 17, in its own way. Everybody I knew lived here.
On the way home I took out my ancient reader, which groaned any time it was turned on. My dinosaur of a machine was grumpy every day. There hadn't been any new arrivals of late, so I hadn't been making copies for a long time. I didn't mind that, since it meant less snooping from the new commander. He was a lot more in to his job than the last one. I would have preferred to be making lots of new copies for lots of new inmates. But that wasn't how things were to be.
After about six seconds the welcome screen of my archaic laptop device was gone. The United had stopped giving new ones to the Unaccepted. Apparently their economy wasn't so strong that they could support us forever.
There had even been rumors of a grim final solution for the "religion problem." We hadn't died out fast enough for the United.
Crook Q Part 12
John
answered more reasonably, though still below Nic's standards, "Great.
We will sneak you out somehow and then get you someplace where you can
concoct that ultra-weapon for us sometime. How's that sound?"
Nic squinted in disgust, "A little to vague. Aside from that, there is one other catch. I will have to accomplish this mission by acting as a double-agent. As you know, Ambrose has been seeking me out as well, and the only way that I can get access to a full laboratory is if I join his side, only in appearance, mind you. I will appear to work for him, but once the research is done I will steal it and bring it to you by whatever method we can arrange."
Dowe looked suspicious, "Sounds complicated."
Nic was not glad for any discussion of his facade of loyalty, "Sounds like our only opportunity. What do you say?"
John answered, "Fine, do it however you like. You're the one doing the sciency stuff anyway. Just make sure the United doesn't end up in control of Yellow River or whatever it was they called that ultra-weapon..."
Nic pursed his lip, "Red Rain, you fools, Red Rain," though the middle part was only audible to himself.
Dowe responded, "See, I told you it had nothing to do with the geography of China!"
John replied to him, "Oh why don't you go turn something into rubber?"
Nic turned and walked away, his jumpsuit still somehow giving the impression of a lab coat. His golden brown hair had begun to get some growth in it in a shape other than the Q the barbers had given him. They'd probably nab him and redo the hair any minute.
Ambrose could not be found anywhere on the surface, so Nic returned to his cell. Not too much to his surprise, he found the retired commander awaiting him in the dark of one of the stair wells. "Hello, Doctor Q. Make any life-changing decisions lately?"
Nic despised the conceited tone in the commander's voice, but he was not in a position to mock him as when he had ruled his colony. "Yes. I will join you on a few conditions."
Ambrose answered smoothly, "I have been instructed as to what you may demand. Tell me what you want, and I have authority to make it a deal if it is within those terms."
Nic answered, "I will work in one of the North American labs, and I will work on my own. I do not want any of the Unionists involved. They can't think originally enough. Second, I will need full access to any information that survived the accident on my base."
Ambrose laughed aloud, "You mean the plot hatched by some Christian girl to undo 'the most prominent base in the galaxy?'" Ambrose thought this was so funny he finished it off with a punch to Nic's stomach. Nic fell back and glared at the commander, clenching the railing so hard his knuckles went white. Ambrose smiled down and added, "Sorry. You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that during our long conversations during which you pressured me into smuggling you Unaccepted scientists. Most embarrassing part of my career, really."
Nic snapped, "Except the part that all you ever amounted to was the commander of a no-name concentration camp for the most pacifist people on the planet, and couldn't even manage to keep them from transmitting Bibles to ever corner of the earth?"
Ambrose kicked the doctor up a stair or two, then grabbed for the non-existent collar of Nic's jumpsuit. Nic caught that arm and twisted it around. "About my conditions?"
Ambrose stood stock still, "Yes, about those."
"First, working in North America away from Unionists. Second, full access to any information about or from my base. Third, when it is all done, I want to be placed in command of a new research facility away from earth, self-sufficient, and to never be contacted by the United again."
Ambrose smiled sickeningly, "Why the last one? So you can plot to wipe out life on earth all over again?"
Nic twisted viciously the arm he still had a grip on; Ambrose fell over trying to keep it straight as Nic let go. "Once I am there and have my team, I won't need to have any capacity for space travel. That should prevent me from being any threat to you. I just want to go and forget you and your petty disputes."
Ambrose muttered, "Sure, sounds fine."
Nic added, "There is one more matter of concern."
Ambrose barked, "What?"
Nic smiled sickeningly, "My hair. I want a good barber to take care of it and my moustache."
Ambrose rolled his eyes in the dark, "Sure, whatever you say. We'll be out of here as soon as I can manage."
Nic raised his eyebrow and combed finger combed his confused locks in concern, "We?"
Ambrose turned and smiled cruelly, "Don't think you can get away from all the Unionists. We aren't as 'fluffy' as some seem to believe."
Nic squinted in disgust, "A little to vague. Aside from that, there is one other catch. I will have to accomplish this mission by acting as a double-agent. As you know, Ambrose has been seeking me out as well, and the only way that I can get access to a full laboratory is if I join his side, only in appearance, mind you. I will appear to work for him, but once the research is done I will steal it and bring it to you by whatever method we can arrange."
Dowe looked suspicious, "Sounds complicated."
Nic was not glad for any discussion of his facade of loyalty, "Sounds like our only opportunity. What do you say?"
John answered, "Fine, do it however you like. You're the one doing the sciency stuff anyway. Just make sure the United doesn't end up in control of Yellow River or whatever it was they called that ultra-weapon..."
Nic pursed his lip, "Red Rain, you fools, Red Rain," though the middle part was only audible to himself.
Dowe responded, "See, I told you it had nothing to do with the geography of China!"
John replied to him, "Oh why don't you go turn something into rubber?"
Nic turned and walked away, his jumpsuit still somehow giving the impression of a lab coat. His golden brown hair had begun to get some growth in it in a shape other than the Q the barbers had given him. They'd probably nab him and redo the hair any minute.
Ambrose could not be found anywhere on the surface, so Nic returned to his cell. Not too much to his surprise, he found the retired commander awaiting him in the dark of one of the stair wells. "Hello, Doctor Q. Make any life-changing decisions lately?"
Nic despised the conceited tone in the commander's voice, but he was not in a position to mock him as when he had ruled his colony. "Yes. I will join you on a few conditions."
Ambrose answered smoothly, "I have been instructed as to what you may demand. Tell me what you want, and I have authority to make it a deal if it is within those terms."
Nic answered, "I will work in one of the North American labs, and I will work on my own. I do not want any of the Unionists involved. They can't think originally enough. Second, I will need full access to any information that survived the accident on my base."
Ambrose laughed aloud, "You mean the plot hatched by some Christian girl to undo 'the most prominent base in the galaxy?'" Ambrose thought this was so funny he finished it off with a punch to Nic's stomach. Nic fell back and glared at the commander, clenching the railing so hard his knuckles went white. Ambrose smiled down and added, "Sorry. You have no idea how badly I wanted to do that during our long conversations during which you pressured me into smuggling you Unaccepted scientists. Most embarrassing part of my career, really."
Nic snapped, "Except the part that all you ever amounted to was the commander of a no-name concentration camp for the most pacifist people on the planet, and couldn't even manage to keep them from transmitting Bibles to ever corner of the earth?"
Ambrose kicked the doctor up a stair or two, then grabbed for the non-existent collar of Nic's jumpsuit. Nic caught that arm and twisted it around. "About my conditions?"
Ambrose stood stock still, "Yes, about those."
"First, working in North America away from Unionists. Second, full access to any information about or from my base. Third, when it is all done, I want to be placed in command of a new research facility away from earth, self-sufficient, and to never be contacted by the United again."
Ambrose smiled sickeningly, "Why the last one? So you can plot to wipe out life on earth all over again?"
Nic twisted viciously the arm he still had a grip on; Ambrose fell over trying to keep it straight as Nic let go. "Once I am there and have my team, I won't need to have any capacity for space travel. That should prevent me from being any threat to you. I just want to go and forget you and your petty disputes."
Ambrose muttered, "Sure, sounds fine."
Nic added, "There is one more matter of concern."
Ambrose barked, "What?"
Nic smiled sickeningly, "My hair. I want a good barber to take care of it and my moustache."
Ambrose rolled his eyes in the dark, "Sure, whatever you say. We'll be out of here as soon as I can manage."
Nic raised his eyebrow and combed finger combed his confused locks in concern, "We?"
Ambrose turned and smiled cruelly, "Don't think you can get away from all the Unionists. We aren't as 'fluffy' as some seem to believe."
Caesar the Troll Part 17
I wonder if any of you are beginning to catch the deepest theme I wrote for this work...
Caesar landed on his half-melted back with the girl in his arms half a mile away, watching some rock still fly over him, and the ground before him still collapsing into a massive crater. The two lay still for a few seconds as the last of the ash, dust, fire, steel and stone flew by, and with one long note, the song was done.
As soon as the last note died the girl began to sob, the fear of the last few minutes catching up with her. The sky was black all around, the earth still shaking. All around the concussion of the explosion was tearing down buildings from top to bottom as they fell under their own weight.
Caesar picked the girl up off of his heaving chest, his tears belying the pain that he did not express vocally. By reason of his incredibly thick skin, no bones were broken, and he was still able to move. He got down on all fours and looked at the girl, motioning with his head that she should get aboard.
Still sobbing and heaving she climbed up and wrapped her legs around his neck, her feet just barely meeting under his chin. She hugged her arms around his forehead, just barely completing the circumference.
The king crawled across his domain, now forever marred with a massive crater, and all the stones had been moved. He did not have the strength to stand or run or leap or bound, and so trudged on his hands and knees for hours under the shade of the ashes and dust that made the sky perfectly black at noon and after. For three hours he crawled so before the theater came in view, as finally light began to push through the dust cloud. He turned around and made for his home junk pile. He could not keep his precious subject safe forever, that they now knew. He needed something that would keep her safe against all enemies.
He left the girl at the top of the pile, half concealed in the ruins. Still to tired to climb, he allowed himself to fall the whole distance to the bottom of the shaft, then crawled his way down the tunnels. He for one moment considered pushing the bars together again for light, but then remembered that there would be no light even if he did. Onward he crawled.
There, in his bedroom chamber, he reached deeper than he had in many years into the nook that once held his bomb. He drew out a black book that fit nearly in the palm of his hand. He hadn't been able to turn pages with any success for many long ages, but he had carved what he could remember of the book onto the wall. He had defended his cause today.
Caesar climbed out the top his shaft using only one hand, the other clutching the one thing that could keep her safe forever. He gave it to her, then showed her to climb on again. She climbed up for his head, and together they rode towards home.
Home had grown much nearer to the Caesar's tunnels in the past few days. The people had grown past the bridge that the king had laid and built many buildings and streets on the other side, pushing the rocks whither soever they liked.
Caesar set the girl back down on the ground, and they walked toward the growing home. They passed a few nondescript grey buildings, built of a stone only humans could make that was smooth and hard. Caesar and the girl walked toward the river.
As they approached the bridge they were surprised. Men from every side leaped out, carrying the shiny guns. Caesar moaned and fell to his knees before they had even begun shooting. The girl cried out in protests but to no avail as she was quickly caught up by her daddy running through the scene. The others kept a constant beam of hot light on Caesar, who only lay still and twitching under their shots.
Caesar landed on his half-melted back with the girl in his arms half a mile away, watching some rock still fly over him, and the ground before him still collapsing into a massive crater. The two lay still for a few seconds as the last of the ash, dust, fire, steel and stone flew by, and with one long note, the song was done.
As soon as the last note died the girl began to sob, the fear of the last few minutes catching up with her. The sky was black all around, the earth still shaking. All around the concussion of the explosion was tearing down buildings from top to bottom as they fell under their own weight.
Caesar picked the girl up off of his heaving chest, his tears belying the pain that he did not express vocally. By reason of his incredibly thick skin, no bones were broken, and he was still able to move. He got down on all fours and looked at the girl, motioning with his head that she should get aboard.
Still sobbing and heaving she climbed up and wrapped her legs around his neck, her feet just barely meeting under his chin. She hugged her arms around his forehead, just barely completing the circumference.
The king crawled across his domain, now forever marred with a massive crater, and all the stones had been moved. He did not have the strength to stand or run or leap or bound, and so trudged on his hands and knees for hours under the shade of the ashes and dust that made the sky perfectly black at noon and after. For three hours he crawled so before the theater came in view, as finally light began to push through the dust cloud. He turned around and made for his home junk pile. He could not keep his precious subject safe forever, that they now knew. He needed something that would keep her safe against all enemies.
He left the girl at the top of the pile, half concealed in the ruins. Still to tired to climb, he allowed himself to fall the whole distance to the bottom of the shaft, then crawled his way down the tunnels. He for one moment considered pushing the bars together again for light, but then remembered that there would be no light even if he did. Onward he crawled.
There, in his bedroom chamber, he reached deeper than he had in many years into the nook that once held his bomb. He drew out a black book that fit nearly in the palm of his hand. He hadn't been able to turn pages with any success for many long ages, but he had carved what he could remember of the book onto the wall. He had defended his cause today.
Caesar climbed out the top his shaft using only one hand, the other clutching the one thing that could keep her safe forever. He gave it to her, then showed her to climb on again. She climbed up for his head, and together they rode towards home.
Home had grown much nearer to the Caesar's tunnels in the past few days. The people had grown past the bridge that the king had laid and built many buildings and streets on the other side, pushing the rocks whither soever they liked.
Caesar set the girl back down on the ground, and they walked toward the growing home. They passed a few nondescript grey buildings, built of a stone only humans could make that was smooth and hard. Caesar and the girl walked toward the river.
As they approached the bridge they were surprised. Men from every side leaped out, carrying the shiny guns. Caesar moaned and fell to his knees before they had even begun shooting. The girl cried out in protests but to no avail as she was quickly caught up by her daddy running through the scene. The others kept a constant beam of hot light on Caesar, who only lay still and twitching under their shots.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Crook Q Part 11
Just realized that I had forgotten to make a Red Rain post today... so we will see how I do at 11:12 PM writing. I just did 2300 odd words or so in my novel, so I was starting to retire my writing mind but you know, I will just bring it back long enough for Red Rain. We'll also see how I do with the Sherlock Holmes credit song going through my awesome headphones. My apologies about the rather short length here, but since more will be out tomorrow anyway I figured you would survive.
Problem: Two sides wanted him and his Red Rain. Both sides reside within the government of the United.
Solution: Sign with both
Nick approached Tower again, but Tower seemed to ignore his presence. Nic barked up, "Tower! We need to talk out some details."
Tower didn't seem to move, but a little piece of paper dropped from his viewpoint somehow. Nic opened it and read, "They watch. Talk to John and Dowe."
The last thing Nic wanted was to talk to those two again, but apparently if his deal was to happen he would have to. He wanted the deal done and out of the way so that he could stop feeling apprehensive at the awkward simplicity of his duplicitous success.
He found the two, as usual, sitting in the sun in the yard. They waved and greeted him openly. For fear that they would say something to loud, Nic approached rapidly. He opened the proceedings, "Look, gentleman, I have decided to throw in my lot with you. If you will get me out of the prison then I will get you whatever weapon you want that I can make."
Dowe asked, "Can you make one that turns things into rubber?"
Nic closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the question. John answered more reasonably, though still below Nic's standards, "Great. We will sneak you out somehow and then get you someplace where you can concoct that ultra-weapon for us sometime. How's that sound?"
Nic squinted in disgust, "A little to vague. Aside from that, there is one other catch..."
Problem: Two sides wanted him and his Red Rain. Both sides reside within the government of the United.
Solution: Sign with both
Nick approached Tower again, but Tower seemed to ignore his presence. Nic barked up, "Tower! We need to talk out some details."
Tower didn't seem to move, but a little piece of paper dropped from his viewpoint somehow. Nic opened it and read, "They watch. Talk to John and Dowe."
The last thing Nic wanted was to talk to those two again, but apparently if his deal was to happen he would have to. He wanted the deal done and out of the way so that he could stop feeling apprehensive at the awkward simplicity of his duplicitous success.
He found the two, as usual, sitting in the sun in the yard. They waved and greeted him openly. For fear that they would say something to loud, Nic approached rapidly. He opened the proceedings, "Look, gentleman, I have decided to throw in my lot with you. If you will get me out of the prison then I will get you whatever weapon you want that I can make."
Dowe asked, "Can you make one that turns things into rubber?"
Nic closed his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the question. John answered more reasonably, though still below Nic's standards, "Great. We will sneak you out somehow and then get you someplace where you can concoct that ultra-weapon for us sometime. How's that sound?"
Nic squinted in disgust, "A little to vague. Aside from that, there is one other catch..."
Caesar the Troll Part 16
For you Caesar fans, this is your warning that you are already a vote behind Red Rain. I know from my blog stats that Red Rain is more popular by pageviews, so it will take some doing to get a week of straight Caesar. I'll admit that Caesar is my more precious work to my mind, because of some its autobiographical elements, but I may yet learn to work that into the new tale of Criminal Q.
Caution: Do not read this post unless you are fully caught up through Part 15.
Caesar quickly launched the others, all with equally lethal results.
A lull in the song.
Renegade gunmen began streaming out of the tunnels and hidden rooms, armed with fully powered guns. Caesar charged about for a quarter of a minute, trying to avoid the heaviest knots of gunners, but their numbers only increased.
Then he spotted her. She was tied to an old pillar at the edge of the arena. They hadn't hurt her, apparently, hoping to make a good ransom deal for the wayward child. She sat in stunned silence as her king bludgeoned her captains to death with a steel beam which bent with use, and as he endured shots from thirty-nine guns at once. She watched as smoke gushed off of Caesar's melting skin, and then she caught the song.
The song was reaching near the two minute mark when she joined in, as she continued to watch as even Caesar's granite shield began vaporizing under the intense barrage. Caesar stood in the center of the arena, smiting anyone that dared come near with his I-beam, running about in circles and claiming the lives of his slower opponents, yet they had finally grown wise to his tactic, and stayed out of range.
One minute and fifty seconds in Caesar changed his tactic. He launched the I-beam through the air and smashed half-a-dozen gunmen against the far wall with the thrust. Then Caesar drew forth his greatest weapon, and his most prized possession. Snapping the cords of glowing tiny fruits he held his now second favorite thing in the world above his head, thinking nothing of the shots that scourged his skin with flame.
One minute and fifty-four seconds in Caesar began to laugh at his opponents, jeering at them as he sensed their demise. They thought he was crazy as ever, and laughed as well, seeing their shots begin to take toll. The laugh of ignorance.
One minute and fifty-nine seconds, Caesar began to sing the scales. Taking his precious bomb above his head he slammed it into the ground, the nose-cone impact starting it's timer. All the laughter ceased, and time itself froze for two seconds. Caesar turned and ran for his subject, singing the climax of his song. The renegades were running away from the middle of the arena as well, but Caesar out paced them and cast them aside with a single swing of his smoking arms. When he reached her, he curled up over her body as he hit the grandest note of the song, two minutes and four seconds.
The blast went off, carrying on a wave of light a cloud of dust from the middle of the ancient, colossal arena, followed by a torrent of flame. The sound of it drowned out the triumphant notes of the king, and the concussion blew over the stones. The very walls pressed together and exploded outward, careening through the air, bouncing off of ancient rubble and crushing heaps of trash. The last remnant of the pre-war skyscraper was snapped off by a flying stone arch, and it's last chunks of steel fell over the ruins. Caesar landed on his half-melted back with the girl in his arms half a mile away, watching some rock still fly over him, and the ground before him still collapsing into a masive crater. The two lay still for a few seconds as the last of the ash, dust, fire, steel and stone flew by, and with one long note, the song was done.
Caution: Do not read this post unless you are fully caught up through Part 15.
Caesar quickly launched the others, all with equally lethal results.
A lull in the song.
Renegade gunmen began streaming out of the tunnels and hidden rooms, armed with fully powered guns. Caesar charged about for a quarter of a minute, trying to avoid the heaviest knots of gunners, but their numbers only increased.
Then he spotted her. She was tied to an old pillar at the edge of the arena. They hadn't hurt her, apparently, hoping to make a good ransom deal for the wayward child. She sat in stunned silence as her king bludgeoned her captains to death with a steel beam which bent with use, and as he endured shots from thirty-nine guns at once. She watched as smoke gushed off of Caesar's melting skin, and then she caught the song.
The song was reaching near the two minute mark when she joined in, as she continued to watch as even Caesar's granite shield began vaporizing under the intense barrage. Caesar stood in the center of the arena, smiting anyone that dared come near with his I-beam, running about in circles and claiming the lives of his slower opponents, yet they had finally grown wise to his tactic, and stayed out of range.
One minute and fifty seconds in Caesar changed his tactic. He launched the I-beam through the air and smashed half-a-dozen gunmen against the far wall with the thrust. Then Caesar drew forth his greatest weapon, and his most prized possession. Snapping the cords of glowing tiny fruits he held his now second favorite thing in the world above his head, thinking nothing of the shots that scourged his skin with flame.
One minute and fifty-four seconds in Caesar began to laugh at his opponents, jeering at them as he sensed their demise. They thought he was crazy as ever, and laughed as well, seeing their shots begin to take toll. The laugh of ignorance.
One minute and fifty-nine seconds, Caesar began to sing the scales. Taking his precious bomb above his head he slammed it into the ground, the nose-cone impact starting it's timer. All the laughter ceased, and time itself froze for two seconds. Caesar turned and ran for his subject, singing the climax of his song. The renegades were running away from the middle of the arena as well, but Caesar out paced them and cast them aside with a single swing of his smoking arms. When he reached her, he curled up over her body as he hit the grandest note of the song, two minutes and four seconds.
The blast went off, carrying on a wave of light a cloud of dust from the middle of the ancient, colossal arena, followed by a torrent of flame. The sound of it drowned out the triumphant notes of the king, and the concussion blew over the stones. The very walls pressed together and exploded outward, careening through the air, bouncing off of ancient rubble and crushing heaps of trash. The last remnant of the pre-war skyscraper was snapped off by a flying stone arch, and it's last chunks of steel fell over the ruins. Caesar landed on his half-melted back with the girl in his arms half a mile away, watching some rock still fly over him, and the ground before him still collapsing into a masive crater. The two lay still for a few seconds as the last of the ash, dust, fire, steel and stone flew by, and with one long note, the song was done.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
The Voice of the People
Announcing, the first official round of "The Voice of the People." This is one way I try to connect with the readers a little more. You will see my latest poll (I am so fond of those things) has only two options. You can ask for more Caesar the Troll or more Red Rain Fanfiction. You cannot choose both, and you are asked not to choose neither. Whichever side wins that poll will enjoy a week of posts purely dedicated to that subject from July 4th - 9th at the usual two-a-day rate, unless family concerns override me. So if you want a particular one of those, the way to get it is to vote early and often, and maybe have some of your friends who might enjoy this sort of story (I am sure there are some HWers out there who still haven't found this place) vote to help you out. If you think that this sort of quasi-contest isn't that cool, I left you an option to say that, too. All input goes much appreciated!
Crook Q Part 10
This one isn't quite as long as some others, but it does relay another important aspect of the plot. For those of you who are starving for some character-development, have no fear. This work is going to be a longish one, so once the early exposition is out and the main body of the plot begins rolling, I will do my best to begin developing these characters' minds a little more, though it will be interesting trying to imitate the characterization style of The Great Hansen to End All Hansens.
Tower paused, looking sideways at Nic's expression, "freedom."
Nic was tired of the whole business.
The former scientist, ever true to his career, knew that it took two substances for a reaction. "In return for what?"
Tower leaned put his binoculars back on and began surveying the far wall. He muttered, nearly only mouthing the word to his captive, "Weapons, Nic. Like Red Rain, for starts."
Nic nearly went manic. He turned and walked away, not knowing where he was going, since apparently he couldn't even find peace in his cell. Tower called after him, "Think about it, Q. Ask yourself what vision of the future you would prefer, and follow that dream."
***
Nic sat still in his cell. No one had bothered him for three days, and he hadn't seen the sun either. His dream of a free colony on Mars was ruined because the United had found out about Red Rain, and now it had turned back on him again. Even life in prison was dangerous. He knew that if he didn't court favor with one of the factions he'd be doomed. Either side would kill him before they would let the other faction get him.
Then at last Nic realized the knowledge that gave him the edge. Ambrose's fascists did not know that he was being courted by anarchists. They figured they had all the pieces neatly aligned. At least, hopefully they were that stupid. A young Christian girl had forced Nic to realize that the pieces were never quite as ordered as he hoped.
Q returned to the surface, paler skin than ever before and a thickening mustache. Now he just wanted to find that stuck-up ex-captain and strike a deal. Anything that would get him away from Rott. But Tower was easier to find.
He would make that deal first, then.
Problem: Two sides wanted him and his Red Rain. Both sides reside within the government of the United.
Solution: Sign with both.
Tower paused, looking sideways at Nic's expression, "freedom."
Nic was tired of the whole business.
The former scientist, ever true to his career, knew that it took two substances for a reaction. "In return for what?"
Tower leaned put his binoculars back on and began surveying the far wall. He muttered, nearly only mouthing the word to his captive, "Weapons, Nic. Like Red Rain, for starts."
Nic nearly went manic. He turned and walked away, not knowing where he was going, since apparently he couldn't even find peace in his cell. Tower called after him, "Think about it, Q. Ask yourself what vision of the future you would prefer, and follow that dream."
***
Nic sat still in his cell. No one had bothered him for three days, and he hadn't seen the sun either. His dream of a free colony on Mars was ruined because the United had found out about Red Rain, and now it had turned back on him again. Even life in prison was dangerous. He knew that if he didn't court favor with one of the factions he'd be doomed. Either side would kill him before they would let the other faction get him.
Then at last Nic realized the knowledge that gave him the edge. Ambrose's fascists did not know that he was being courted by anarchists. They figured they had all the pieces neatly aligned. At least, hopefully they were that stupid. A young Christian girl had forced Nic to realize that the pieces were never quite as ordered as he hoped.
Q returned to the surface, paler skin than ever before and a thickening mustache. Now he just wanted to find that stuck-up ex-captain and strike a deal. Anything that would get him away from Rott. But Tower was easier to find.
He would make that deal first, then.
Problem: Two sides wanted him and his Red Rain. Both sides reside within the government of the United.
Solution: Sign with both.
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