Showing posts with label 2. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2. Show all posts

Monday, June 20, 2022

Ceaseless Dark - Chapter 2

Original Artist: Shawn Poh | https://www.artstation.com/artwork/qdOQL

===
 
The problem, simply, is larger than many people
tend to realize. Space, and space travel, requires all
of the relevant resources to be carried with at all
times; or, at least, some measure of acquiring the
necessary resources. Ask your average layperson and
they will give you the big four: food, water, air, and
fuel. But existence requires more than that.
 
Any tool you will ever have, or the ability to fabricate that
tool, must be brought with you. You must bring clothes,
medicines, recreation...literally anything and everything
you would need to function both mentally and physically;
all of that must be shoved into a cramped, vehicle
with you as you shuttle through the dark. 
 
Imagine being forced to live in an apartment for 
years on end. Every door, window, every crack to the
outside would be sealed and you would have to live in
there without anything but telecommunications to the
outside. No physical, outside assistance of any kind.
 
What would you need to bring with you to survive 
for all of that time? 
 
- Captain Tatiana Botezatu, The Nagato 
 
 
Chapter 2
 
  
    The entire door gave way with a muted thunk that wasn't so much heard as it was felt through the reverberations of the environmental suit. However, thanks to the microgravity, the door didn't fall, but rather just began to drift lazily backwards away from them.
    "After you, little lady." Dunagan said with a wave of his hand.
    "Well, if lady's first, by all means." Colby shot back with a wave of her own hand.
    "Well now, don't mind if I do." he responded with a mock flip of imagined hair.
    The big man pushed off gently from where he rested near the door, floating into the hallway beyond, followed shortly thereafter by Colby. 
    The hall was pretty much what they were used to with these sorts of ships. Cramped with only enough space for the two of them to be side by side, drifting maybe a foot or two off the deck. Sleek, metallic paneling, thick, solid metal doors, big, bulky electronic doorpads and monitors, hardened polyglass lighting across the roof and floor, and clearly marked walkways, doors, and location designations in bright off-white paint that, without the century of exposure to the elements, would have glown in the dark with natural bio-luminescence.
    Everything was sturdy, built to last, and meant to survive and help the passengers survive deep space. No frills. No decoration. Just functionality and rugged durability.
    All about them, things drifted quietly in the dark. Random objects that found no rest due to the microgravity. A pen spinning in a constant, lazy circle. An old tablet that drifted near one corner of the hall. Someone's discarded hat, a UMC private's hat based on the designation on it, hovers just between them as they move. The dented remains of a steel coffee tumbler slowly bounces off one wall.
    "Spooky place." Merrick crackled out over the radio.
    "Eh, it ain't the worst place we've been too." Colby said with a non-committal shrug that the pilot on the other side couldn't see.
    "Still... gives me the creeps." she shot back.
    "And that's why you don't dive." Jameson's voice came through over the static of the radio.
    "Nah. Don't say that, boss." Dunagan replied with a smirk Colby could make out even through his darkened visor. "Give the little girl a chance. Next time, I'll fly and she can go with Colbs."
    "No fuckin' way." Merrick answered quickly.
    Half way down the hall, Dunagan and Colby stopped in front of the next door. Near identical to the one they just cut through, this door was labeled as 'EQUIPMENT STORAGE'. Glancing back the way they came, Colby could just make out 'ALPHA LAB' next to the sizeable hole in the metal that they'd passed through.
    "What? Don't think I'd make a good pilot?" Dunagan chided.
    "Dunagan, I don't think you could fly us a hundred kilometers through open space with the ship on autopilot."
    "Technically, that wouldn't be flying." Huli seemed almost to whisper through the static of the connection.
    "Look, all I need is a fancy hat and to sit in the squishy chair. No muss, no fuss." Dunagan blustered with a gentle wave of one hand. "Best damn pilot y'all have ever seen."
    Colby glanced down the hall to the flotsam floating about. After spotting her target, she hopped along the wall for a moment and snatched the old private's hat before returning and tapping the old piece of headwear against the chest of Dunagan's environmental suit.
    "There ya go, big guy." Colby said. "All your's."
    "Ah!" he almost squeaked with joy, a sound you wouldn't expect out of the wall of muscle that was the big man. "A fancy hat!"
    "And I'm sure we'll find you a squishy chair somewhere in here if we look hard enough." Colby returned as she pulled the plasma torch once again from her belt.
    "But is it Merrick's squishy chair?" he asked.
    "No, I guess not."
    "Well then I don't want that one. I want Merrick's."
    "It's my squishy chair, Dunagan." Merrick hissed out playfully. "All mine. You'll never get it."
    The blue-white flame ignited on the plasma torch, spurting and flickering with little flashes of white and gold trailing off its edges as Colby brought the tool up to the outside edges of the door. Instantly, the metal there began turning to a soft, molten putty beneath the torch's heat.
    "But see, I got the hat, Merrick. And you'll be on a dive with Colbs. There will be no one to stop me!"
    "Buhh." Colby could hear Merrick practically shudder through the radio connection. "No thanks. And, even if I did go on one of those deathwalks with Colby, someone could stop you."
    "No one could!" Dunagan repeated.
    "Huli could."
    "Here I thought you'd say Pascall." Colby commented, her focus on her work in front of her.
    "N-no. She's right. I'd just lock out your access to the command consoles." Huli said, her voice distant as she seemed to be thinking about it. "And probably my door after that. No, definitely after that. But, worst comes to worst, yea, I'd call Pascall."
    "They've got ya beat, Dun." Colby observed.
    "What am I being called for?" Pascall's thick baratone scratched out through the microphone.
    "It's nothing, Pascall." Merrick replied. "Just threatening Dun."
    "Dunagan?" Pascall asked, just the slightest hint of threat in his tone.
    "Alright, alright." Dunagan said, holding up his hands in defeat, though only Colby could see it. "I'll be good. But I'm keeping the hat!" he quickly added.
    "Love ya, Dun." Merrick chided.
    "Yea, yea. Say that all you want but you cheated bringing Pascall into this."
    "What can I say? I'm just a fan of the man with the high power sedatives."
    There were a few scattered chuckles throughout the radio feed, though, unsurprisingly, not from the doctor himself. Pascall was almost certainly more focused on some other project more interesting to him unless something drastic happened and the team had need of his services.
    "Got it!" Colby said as she finished cutting through the metal around the door.
    She stepped aside and, gingerly, Dunagan drew the slab of metal that was the door back out into the hall with them and set it to drift away down the hall to join the rest of the detritus. It was always easier to bring the doors to them versus trying to shove them into potentially small spaces like an unknown room. In this instance, it was definitely the right choice.
    Beyond, they found themselves in what seemed to be some sort of large, walk-in freezer. The walls were a thick, textured metal and several large vents could be seen overtop of three heavy-looking, industrial shelving units packed to the brim with assorted items.
    It's probably colder now then it ever was when the power was on. Colby mused.
    "What've got, guys? Can't quite make it out." Jameson asked through the static.
    Dunagan and Colby both drifted carefully into the room and started going through the stuff on the shelves. Plenty of it was basic lab equipment. Beakers, vials, metallic and plastic hand tools of every, shape, size, and level of precision. Cleaning supplies for every state of matter be it solid, liquid, or gas. Nothing more than they might find on in their own ship's haul.
    "Nothing interesting here." Colby announced.
    "Sucks to suck." Dunagan commented, causing her to glance over his shoulder, though the only thing she could make out were some sort of darkened polyglass jars.
    "Got something?" she asked.
    "Hey, Jameson." Dunagan asked, ignoring Colby's question. "What's the rule about pets on board, again?"
    "Only Sir Fredrickson the Third is allowed on board and only because he is fluffy and delightful." the captain replied in his normal, strict monotone despite the ludicrousness of the statement.
    "So if I told you I found something slimy and disgusting?" Dunagan asked while proffering up the jar he was holding to Colby, who took it gingerly.
    "I'd say you should probably clean your sheets." Merrick offered.
    Colby stared down at the jar in her hands, trying to understand what she was looking at. The jar seemed almost perfectly sealed, as though it were never meant to be opened somehow, though, how whatever was inside actually got inside was beyond her. Smooth polyglass in a perfect cylinder, maybe some 30 centimeters tall and 13 centimeters wide. No openings, tabs, or any obvious means of getting into it short of sawing the thing open.
    Whatever was inside the jar was a lot harder to make out, however.
    The majority of the inside was stained a deep ombre green with scattered batches of brown, black, and deep violet purple. Those patches that she could see through, Colby could make out some sort of thick mold or growth coating the inside of the cylinder that appeared almost furry or fuzzy in appearance. Tiny tendrils of some sort of plant or something grew out from the fuzz and drifted listlessly about like it was in a fluid.
    Colby gently shook the cylinder in her hand and, confirming, saw things drift about thickly as though in a soup. She couldn't make out any liquid actually sloshing, and concluded that it must be vacuumed sealed.
    Then, as she watched, something small and with far too manly limbs moved swiftly from one of the patches of mold to another. Disappearing just as quickly as it appeared.
    "Guhhh." Colby exclaimed.
    "Wow." Huli proclaimed. "I think something's moving in that, Colby."
    "Definitely is." she confirmed.
    "And we got more!" Dunagan declared excitedly before motioning to the several shelves of similar containers, probably at least two dozen in total.
    "The hell is this thing?" Colby asked as she held it up closer to look, once again seeing something small and slimy dart from mold patch to mold patch.
    "Whatever it is somehow hasn't frozen in deep space and still has shit living in it, so that's good enough for me." Jameson declared matter of factly.
    "These things are gonna sell for a pretty penny." Dunagan declared happily and Colby felt her own excitement growing.
    "Let's get them back to the ship." Colby said, brief thoughts of what something like this could be worth flashing through her mind.
    "Negative." Jameson said. "I'll mark it and you can pick them up on your return sweep."
    "But Boss..." Dunagan began.
    "What if something happens to them?" Colby finished.
    "If a century in space hasn't done it yet then I hardly think another thirty minutes or so is going to matter. Besides, you're going to follow quarantine procedure and put those things in DeCon tanks. This isn't the family station wagon."
    Colby and Dunagan stared at each other through their visors, looking at the jar in his hand and the ones on the shelving, but it seemed like the matter was already settled on the other end.
    "What is a station wagon?" Merrick asked.
    "Th-they were a type of old fossil fuel vehicle." Huli answered.
    "Huh. Weird."
    "Boss..." Colby began again.
    "No. Now hurry up. You're burning air." Jameson said flatly, shutting down any further discussion with that simple fact.
    She stared at the jar, a bubble of worry starting to creep into her stomach.
    "Come on." Dunagan said with a gentle pat on her shoulder as he took the jar, placing it back on the shelf where he found it. "We'll grab em on the way out."
    Colby stared after the jar for a few seconds longer, watching as something dark and slimy flitted from once side of it to the other, appearing only long enough to disappear into the mold on the opposing end and wondered at how anything could be living in there and not be frozen solid.
    "Yea. I guess you're right." she said before finally looking at her diving partner. "Let's go."

===

Thursday, November 7, 2019

The Tales of Raythia: Trojan Horse | Chapter 2: "Judgement"

Eight Point Star Design Found on Etsy:
https://www.etsy.com/in-en/listing/672655970/eight-pointed-star-sacred-geometry
The Tales of Raythia
Trojan Horse
Chapter 2  -  Judgement


    Amelia swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat and the breakfast that was threatening to come up right behind it, down.
    Despite the absolute terror she felt at that moment, no one looking at her would be able to tell. Her amber eyes were steady, locked directly ahead of her. Her golden hair, straight, cut short, and tied close to her skull, was immaculate, without a single strand out of place. Her lips were a thin line, her jaw hard set, and her posture perfect. Arms rigid but ready, back straight but flexible, knees locked but trained to respond at her slightest thought.
    No, if you looked at her, she was a statuesque model of everything she had been trained to be.
    And people were looking at her.
    Eight other sets of eyes, each a matching hue of golden amber identical to hers, stared back at her: each a hard, trained gaze with many more decades experience then hers’. More decades then she could hope to achieve in her lifetime.
    Old men in a profession that killed young.
    The Eight Points of the Council of the Sun.
    The hand-appointed of the Goddess Solair.
    Each sat at their designated seat around the Council table, their bodies just as hard and ruthlessly trained and ready as her own. Despite their age, Amelia knew that she would not stand a chance in a one-on-one with any one of them and, with that passing thought, she once again had to swallow down breakfast.
    No face gave away any emotion. No thoughts could be made out from any of their stoic faces.
    “Recite the Doctrine of the Radiant.” Paladin Golina, the closest to her, commanded in his gravelly voice.
    The simple instruction brought a sudden stillness to her thoughts. A calmness that quelled her fear from the moment before.
    The words slipped out one by one, clear and crisp as easily as breathing.
    “A paladin is a tool to be used by the Golden Lady and by Man-Kind alone. Their sword is the blade to cut down foes and wheat alike. Their pommel is a hammer to crush evil and grind grain equally. Their shield a fortress to protect the innocent from evil and darkness no matter where it is found.”
    “A paladin is to serve until such time as they are released by death or the Golden Lady herself. Their work is for all and forever, a dedication of the one life they are granted in honor of all those who might lose such lives they have been gifted without one to stand against evil for them.”
    “A paladin may stand alone on the battlefield but never alone in life for all Man-Kind is but one blood. No bloodline is special and though all are unique, all are the same. The man to a paladin is their brother and the woman their sister and all are family lest they are a foe.”
    “A paladin does not seek judgement, but they do uphold it. Those that have wrought themselves an enemy of life, of the Golden Lady, and of Man-Kind are a foe to be dealt with. To be corrected, to be culled, and to be brought to the light under the sun.”
    “A paladin shall only use violence in defense of oneself or in defense of another and only so if peace or diplomacy is impossible or such acts would be corrupted by a foe to a twisted version of their original intent.”
    “A paladin understands that no foe is too great to be defeated and no weakness too small to be exploited. They know that everyone and everything will be brought to their end and so they must never fear the mighty while never believing themselves to be such.”
    “A paladin knows that a disarmed foe is not a harmless one for a snake without fangs still has venom and it needs only cunning to use it. However, when one is helpless, stripped of their mental, physical, and all other capabilities to defend or to harm, they are to be treated with absolute dignity and honor.”
    “A paladin without honor is paladin no more. All life is precious; a gift to be cherished and loved until that day which Hamet take us. Death is not a punishment but the end of a journey and should never be inflicted lest it be the permanent end of an otherwise dangerous foe. A dead man does not learn the error of their ways and it is only through life that a foe may be a friend and honor restored.”
    “A paladin stands before the Rising Sun as a symbol of peace, power, and righteousness. They hold themselves above all others not in glory, but in aid; a servant on their knees at the edge of a cliff pulling those below them up and standing before the gathering darkness to beckon the Sun and defend all who might fall back down without them.”
    “A paladin carries the Light of the Rising Sun within them wherever they go. Darkness may infiltrate the hearts of men, but the paladin is the light at the end of the tunnel, even if they merely hold the torch needed to find their way out of the gloom. No soul is forgotten, and every life is a blessing to be cherished and bolstered.”
    “I stand before you and the Golden Lady in reverence and solace and do hereby swear it that I, a paladin, will uphold these laws until Hamet take me from this life and beyond.”
    Every word that left Amelia’s mouth was clear.
    Crisp.
    Perfect.
    She had to wonder at times what she had done more of through her life: swinging her sword or reciting the Doctrine. Put to the test, she had to think that the numbers might be pretty close overall. She said it out loud and to herself dozens of times a day, everyday and had been doing so ever since she had learned it at the start of her training.
    A lullaby turned promise and a promise turned prayer that had been drilled into her since she was a babe.
    Paladin Golina glanced back over his shoulder towards Paladin Stillwater. They exchanged an unknowable look though this time Amelia felt less uneasy, her nerves calmed by the promises she had made to her Goddess and to Man-Kind. They were here to judge her right to be granted the mantle of Paladin but, if for some reason they elected not to, Amelia would simply continue her training and present herself again on the next Day of the Rising Sun.
    It would be a disappointment, but one she could and had dealt with before.
    No matter what happened, she knew where her heart laid, and an organization of men mattered little in the face of who she was as a person. No decision would burden her because, in her mind, nay, in her soul, she was a paladin already.
    She would fight for Golden Lady.
    She would fight for Man-Kind.
    She would lay her own life on the line to be the hammer and the blade for all others who stood under Solair’s radiance.
    Her title didn’t matter.
    Paladin Golina and Paladin Stillwater’s gaze turned to the other side of the table, this time both towards Paladin Jecoux who gave a very small nod.
    “You speak well, Sister.” Paladin Golina declared, looking back towards Amelia. “And you Know the Doctrine.”
    Strange choice of words. Every initiate knows it.
    “Thank you, Brother.” Amelia said.
    “You have called upon the Council before for Paladin-hood on the Day of the Rising Sun, have you not?”
    “I have.”
    “And you were denied.”
    “I was.”
    “How many times?”
    A wince of annoyance flashed in her mind. They all knew the answer. It’s not like they weren’t all there for it.
    “Seven.” She responded simply, giving away no sign of the momentary emotion.
    “And you continue to try.”
    “I continue to serve. It is my only desire.”
    “Hmm.” Paladin Golina hummed with a soft nod.
    The unease started to bubble up again from her belly. They’d done this before, and this was normally where they kicked her out. Recite the Doctrine and get the Hells out. Get back to drilling in the yards.
    “How long have you been training now, Sister?”
    “Twenty-six years. Since I was three, Brother.”
    “Yes, of-course. And how long will you continue to try?”
    Damnit all to the Hells.
    “Until I bear Solair’s mantle or Hamet take me, Brother.”
    “And what will you do until then?”
    “I will train. I will learn. And I will be a teacher and a servant to all, acting on and honoring the Doctrine no matter my title.”
    Paladin Golina held Amelia’s gaze for a long time. She was ready to be dismissed; ready to be excused. But it wasn’t coming. Granted, it was a slightly longer conversation then normal, but…
    And then he turned his back on her.
    One by one, Paladins Golina, Stillwater, Jecoux, Kimo, Redbark, Feign, Ianara, and Lasset all turned away from her and faced their place at the Council Table.
    Amelia had no idea what to say or do. They had never done something like this before. Normally they just told her to try again and come back next time around. This was new.
    So, in light of the unusual circumstances, she didn’t do anything.
    The Paladins each extended their hands out to their sides, just barely touching fingertips with their neighbors on either side, and forming a circle of gloved, metal gauntlets around the Council table. Their heads bowed and eyes closed, they begin to speak in perfect unison.
    “Oh, Radiant One!” they declared in a single, booming voice. “Rising Sun of the Heavens and Eternal Flame. We ask for your judgement. Look upon us and rejoice. Look upon us and sing. Look upon one who will be your Hero and your Champion. A Paladin of the People. Look upon her and let her be judged. To Know you. And you, to Know her! Know what is in her heart and let her be judged!”
    With each word, the sounds in the room seemed to echo and intensify. They seemed to bounce off the walls and each word began to feel like a punch to the gut. By the end, the force of each syllable felt like a hammer in her chest and she could only clench her jaw to keep from crying out in pain. Then it all stopped, and the room fell deathly still.
    Around her, the candles and torches winked out.
    No. she thought. They’re still burning. They’re just…not giving off as much light…?
    Wisps of flame seemed to sizzle, almost imperceptibly, away from the flickering, dulled candles and torches towards the center of the room. It gathered at the center of the table and began to form into a minute, flaming sphere. A tiny ball of fire that gave off for more light than anything that size should have been capable.
    Was this some sort of spell? Magic? But why?
    Amelia stared at the little dancing sphere as it started to grow both in size and intensity. The room growing hotter and sweat running down her chest and legs beneath the steel armor. None of the other paladins were looking at it and she wondered if she shouldn’t be either, but she couldn’t help it.
    It reminded her of the sun.
    An unconscious smile slipped across her lips as she stared at it.
    Why would she fear the sun?
    Why should she fear Solair?
    The heat was no longer too hot.
    The light was no longer too bright.
    The radiance of the little sphere was not too much for her because she knew that it would never harm her. The radiance she felt and the love she felt was that of her Goddess and both of them knew she would carry her Doctrine for the rest of her life in Solair’s name. She would love and be loved by the Golden Lady and she would be a beacon of light for all to rally behind.
    She wasn’t going to be a Paladin.
    She already was one.
    As quickly as it had come, the sphere vanished, and the room suddenly felt colder and darker for it. It was nothing compared to the love of her Goddess. The light that she cast.
    And, to her surprise, Paladin Golina was suddenly in front of her, cradling her cheek with an ungloved hand and a knowing look in his eyes.
    “It is alright, Sister.”
    A choked sob escaped her throat that she hadn’t known was there and she realized her cheeks were wet, stricken with more tears than she’d cried since she was a child. The tears still ran freely and, reaching up take Paladin Golina’s hand, she found she shook too hard to do so.
    “That was…” she barely managed.
    “It was. Just for a moment. And she has smiled upon you.”
    Paladin Golina took her hand, gently as the grizzled man could, and placed it against her own breastplate. There, emblazoned where it had not been before in glittering gold and red rubies, was the eight-point star.
    The symbol of Solair.
    The symbol of a Paladin of the Rising Sun.
    Any resolve Amelia still had was broken in that moment. She clung to Paladin Golina as a child might, collapsing to her knees but for the older man’s strength holding her up, sobbing uncontrollably.
    The tears would not stop coming.
    And there was joy in her heart.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Little Island Tales - Part 2


    Much to no one's surprise, Diego had yet to tire himself out by the time the pair crossed over the threshold of the village and into the comforting light of the crackling braziers.
    "Come onnnn, Ka'lani. You gotta tell me." he whined more to annoy her than anything else now.
    She, on the other hand, remained stoic short of a smirk that said it all.
    I don't have to tell you anything. the sly smile whispered to anyone paying attention.
    "Tell you what?" asked someone from nearby.
    Glancing over, he and Ka'lani saw Tula, Diego's mother sitting under the eves of a nearby hut.
    It was Koula's hut. The village elder, a shaman and medicine woman by trade, had lived there for as long as Diego could remember and was a good friend of his mother and practically a grandmother to him. She'd made it out of strong driftwood years before he'd been born, perhaps timber from a lost ship or something like that. And while it was relatively small the hut had never fallen to the waters of a storm or the winds of a hurricane.
    Still, it was one of the closest huts to the village fire-line and that single fact always made him shiver. Particularly on a moonless night like tonight.
    "Mom! Ka'lani won't tell me who she's making the flute for." Diego said loudly only to realize his complaint made him sound half his age.
    "Maybe she doesn't want to tell you, Diego. She certainly doesn't have to." Tula said, putting down the bundle of dried herbs that she had been tying together with bits of string.
    "Thank you, Tula." Ka'lani said graciously; the first she had spoken since the beach.
    "Of course, Ka'lani." Tula returned as she stepped down from the hut's meager patio and into the white sands.
    Diego glowered at his lifelong friend, but held no real contempt. He was just annoyed to be left out of the conversation.
    "What's with that sour face, Diego?" Remarked his mother as she ruffled his hair. "Maybe Ka'lani is making the flute for me. You know I've always meant to learn."
    "Maybe." Ka'lani said with a knowing smile.
    Diego just pouted harder.
    "Ka'lani." Tula said, her voice more stoic now. "Your mother is looking for you, dear. I think you're supposed to help her set up for the ceremony?"
    "Oh!" Ka'lani exclaimed in realization. "Thank you!"
    Clutching the flute in her hand, she started to take off running towards the center of the village when she only then remembered her manners. She skidded to a stop, turned, and bowed deeply towards Diego's mother, one fist balled and cupped by the other.
    "May the sun never set." Ka'lani said as she had a million times before.
    "And the light shine eternal." Tula responded in turn. "Now off with you."
    Tula waved her off and Ka'lani was gone, running through the sand towards the center of the village.
    Diego and his mother watched her go for a long moment before Tula turned to her son, leaned down, and kissed him on the head.
    "Hello, Nani." she said softly.
    "Hello, Mom." he responded and gave her a hug. "What are you doing at Grammy Koula's house?"
    "I was helping her bundle herbs for the smudge sticks, Nani."
    As if to confirm her story, Diego leaned forward and sniffed his mothers hands. He theatrically gagged after he did.
    "Blah! You smell like sage and garlic!"
    "White sage." she corrected him with a girlish laugh. "Among other things."
    "Guh!" he exclaimed again and shuddered.
    "I'd think you'd be used to the smell by now."
    "I guess." Diego said with a glance towards the center of the village where he could see some people starting to gather. "Doesn't mean I have to like it."
    His mother narrowed her eyes and leaned down with a playful, yet suspicious face.
    "Does that mean something that I need to worry about?"
    Diego backed up, a smile crossing his face despite the 'threatening' stance his mother was taking.
    "No!" he shouted, barely containing a laugh of his own.
    "Is my own son..."  Tula suddenly dove for one of the bound bundles of herbs and jabbed it in Diego's direction. "An aka-akua?!"
    Diego, through fits of giggles, let out a practiced hissssssssssssss and fell face first into the sand, spasming in fake death throws.
    He could only contain himself for a moment before he started giggling at the silliness of the moment. The giggling quickly turned to full scale laughing when his mother dove on him and began tickling him relentlessly.
    "No!" Diego shouted through laughter. "Please!"
    "Maybe I need to....EXORCISE YOU!" Tula shouted and promptly blew a massive raspberry on his belly.
    "Mom! No!"
    Punctuating their play, a deathly, echoing screech filled the darkness outside the village. It rose up over the mountains, drowned out the waves, and seemed to wash away all sound from the burning braziers and the people in the village as everyone turned to stare out into the darkness of the island.
    A moment passed.
    Nothing.
    Another moment.
    Nothing.
    Just as quickly as it had come, the monstrous sound was gone. It didn't even leave echoes off the walls of the canyon.
    "...do you think...?" Diego began, all color and laughter drained from him.
    "Oh shush." Tula quickly stopped him before he could begin. "It's just that time. You should know that be now. Why don't you go see if they need any help setting up. It's nothing."
    Diego glanced up nervously at his mother and then out into the darkness past the fire-line. Tula nudged him before he could become to enraptured by it.
    "Come on." she said, slipping the dried herbs under his belt loop and picking him up off the sand. "Go."
    "Ok, Mom." Diego responded with a weak smile and a quick hug before taking off towards the direction of the village center.
    With his back turned, he couldn't see his mother begin to scatter the dried herbs along the fire-line before returning to her work on Koula's patio. He did, however, notice a few of the village warriors looking a bit more terse and begin checking their weapons as he ran by towards the Pyre.

Tuesday, September 19, 2017

Uncanny Valley - Part 2


    The security room was smaller than he would have liked, but he entered all the same.
    He could barely stretch out his arms without hitting some set of buttons, blinking servers, glowing monitors, or half a dozen other technical apparatuses that he really didn't understand
    Maybe the room was actually larger, but as it stood, he couldn't imagine more than a single person fitting in the tight space semi-comfortably. 
   A single office chair, high backed and squishy with extra padding, sat directly in the center of the high space. Its well worn leather and small tears here and there showed a subtle impression where many hours of someone's life had whittled away watching the monitors in this room.
    He shook off the the thought and sat down.
    He had to admit: it was a pretty nice chair.
    Behind him, the security door slid to a close with a soft whoosh and the click of a lock.
    Glancing around, he looked from screen to screen, trying to figure out what exactly he was supposed to even do with this equipment. He knew what he was looking at. Keyboard. Computer. Monitor. Server. Biometrics scanner. Video camera. Speakers. But he didn't completely remember how to work them or, much less, what he was supposed to do.
    Who the hell was that woman?
    Even if he remembered how to use the equipment before him, he had no idea who he was trying to contact.
    It all made his head hurt.
    "kkkZZZT!"
    The speakers chirped loudly, coming to life in the eerie silence of dust and whirring machines and making him jump.
    "Hello? Are you there? Can you hear me? GodIhopeIgottherightchannel...Please. Please be the right channel. Hello???"
    The young woman sounded nearly as panicked as the first time he heard her. Once again, she seemed as though she were half talking to him and half to herself. Or perhaps someone else?
    "Hello?" he responded, looking expectantly from monitor to monitor for some kind of sign that he was doing something.
    None of them seemed to react. With the exception of a black screen flashing a white cursor in the bottom left corner, all of the other screens had "EREWHON: Butler v.1.32" plastered across them and that was it.
    "Ok. Ok...Breathe. It's alright." The woman continued on although the man wasn't sure if she was talking to him or herself. "It looks like you should be in the security room. At least, I can see a silent alarm going off in there. So it's either you...or...one of them."
    Her shaking voice betrayed her swelling when she said the word "them".
    "Look. If you can hear me, there should be a mic in there. Say something."
    "Something." he responded before smiling to himself.
    He knew it was ridiculous for some reason, but it felt satisfying to respond like that.
    All the same, the woman waited without hearing. Until...
    "Alright, nothing. So here's what I'm going to try. Look at the monitors. You should see me typing on one of them."
    In tandem, one of the monitors blinked to life; changing from the fabulous EREWHON splash screen to some sort of text box. It displayed an ever growing string of nonsense that resembled "SADGASHGASDJGKSFGDIFBBAG" like someone was just banging on a keyboard.
    "Can you see it?" the woman asked frantically.
    "Yea, I can see it." he responded with growing exasperation. "I can see it."
    Hesitantly, he reached out and grabbed the keyboard. His memory seemed to be returning more and more with each passing moment; perhaps as his brain thawed, he wondered to himself. Tapping one of the keys, a patented "A" appeared within the text box below the woman's line of gibberish.
    "OHMYGOD!" she screamed so loud that he grabbed his ears. "YES! YESSS!"
    The man clutched his aching head for a moment before reaching back out for the keyboard. To his surprise, the words flowed naturally from his fingers and actually was easier than speaking.

    "Jesus Christ, woman."

    This elicited another frantic scream of joy and he could swear he could hear her jumping up and down and banging things wherever she was.
    "Yes! Yesyesyesyesyes!" she cheered again. "Ok. Ok. Here we go. Can you hear me?"
    As she spoke, she typed.

    "Can you hear me?"
    "Not technically, but yes." he shot back.

    "YES!"

    He could hear her cheering again over the loud speaker.

    "Ok. I'm gonna turn off the loud speaker for now. We can talk through here."
    "Ok." he agreed and heard an audible click followed by silence. 
    After a long moment, he typed again. 
    "Hello?" he asked. 
    "Sorry, Mr. Nadohs. Was just getting everything turned off."
    "Mr. Nadohs?"
    "This is Karlo Nadohs, isn't it?"
    "I don't know."
    "Why don't you know?" 

    The words were simple and logical, but he couldn't help but feel as if they were a touch incredulous.

    "I just don't." he shot back.
    
    Another extended moment passed in silence as Karlo stared at the blinking text screen. He was about to ask if she was still there when she began typing again.

    "It must be the cryo freeze." she said.
    "Cryo freeze?"
    "Yea. You were cryogenically frozen for the trip. All of the miners were. You don't remember?"

    Karlo stared down at his hands as if they would somehow provide him a response to the hundred questions that just entered his mind. All that stared back were soft, pink pudgy things with a hint of callous.

    "I just said I don't."
    "I suppose you did." the woman agreed before quickly adding. "Sorry."
    "No problem. Can you tell me what the fuck is going on though?"

    Another pertinent question. Another long gap of silence.

    "No. I don't think I can." slowly scrawled across the screen followed a moment later by. "But I'll try."
    "Ok. Let's start with this. Who are you?"
    "Oh! Sorry. My name is Dr. Mara Lethe. Nice to meet you. :)"