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Post by patience on Dec 28, 2012 19:29:11 GMT -6
I LOVE IT! He's going to beat them in their own "Kangaroo Court" with their own testimony! Rock on!
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Post by steve on Dec 29, 2012 10:16:30 GMT -6
PART #0137
"Your visual memory has already been reviewed," the dominant head replied, a bit more harshness returning to an once professorial tone.
"It was viewed for how long?" I asked, "How many years did my visual memory last?"
"Your visual memory was erased," the dominant head answered, "A sign that you were created but then abandoned for reasons not made clear."
"How many years did my visual memory last?" I repeated.
"Put it in a hard cell and be done with it," I heard a voice cry out.
"Your visual memory lasts only a few months," the dominant head sneered, "Starting with when you awakened in the nature preserve where you were found."
"Then I request that you look farther back," I stated, "Eight hundred years back."
"Impossible," the dominant head replied, "Your cellular biology does not support such a hypothesis. Authentic male humans were not known to last more then eighty to one hundred years. We have ample evidence that the female species could not even last thirty years, a majority of them dying at the age of twenty-nine."
"Admittedly," a voice called out, "There is some speculation that females used a different time measurement that also used the same terms, such as 'years.' Their years might have been longer then male years, accounting for how males and females aged similarly but died at significantly different ages."
"Impossible!" A third voice retaliated, "We have documented evidence of aging males in the spice industries being sexually attracted to physically younger females who were employed as mineral prospectors. Most likely a cultural tradition of some variety."
"Enough!" I protested, "If my proposition of you reviewing my visual memory is so easily dismissed, why not show it to me right now?" I asked.
"Without delay," the dominant head stated with absolutely gravity, it's words reverberating as a floating screen appeared beside me.
Like a VHS tape on perpetual rewind, the screen rewound through all of my visual memory. There I was with Oola, driving. There I was, putting on the antique police uniform. Escaping from my cell. Roller skating in the decrepit Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park building. In that creepy goo. In the bedroom with Oola. Being introduced to Oola for the first time. Waking up in that room with all the weird furniture and appliances. Crawling towards the tower. Walking towards the tower. Fending off a feral from inside that building. Exploring the building. Waking up in the gel chamber room.
Darkness, just as the Zekopors had stated.
"Nothing further," the dominant head stated with finality.
"Go back farther," I stated, "Eight hundred years."
"There is nothing left!" The dominant head boomed out, so loud I thought that I felt my teeth rattle.
"Actually," a voice called out, "There is... Something odd..."
And in that moment, you could hear a pin drop.
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Post by kaijafon on Dec 29, 2012 13:38:03 GMT -6
"something odd..."
LOVE IT!!!! thank you!!! I love this story, it is so unique!!!
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Post by steve on Dec 30, 2012 10:18:44 GMT -6
PART #0138
"It is insignificant residual data," the dominant head scoffed, "Movement data of some variety. It appears to be repeated in a loop."
"Not quite," a few voices rang out in uncoordinated protest, a purple, floating holographic head beginning to grow into the foreground, "There also appears to be... Aural data of some type."
Suddenly, I heard swishing sounds and swirling sounds, like the gentle patting of water onto a hollow, metal surface.
"Movement data does not appear to loop itself and..." a voice said, trailing away, concluding with, "That is abnormal."
"The subject was subjected to floating in that metal coffin," another voice declared, "I hypothesize that the movement and aural data correlates to the subject listening to a liquid splashing around inside the metal coffin while inside the metal coffin himself."
"Nonsense!" A few voices cried out, "We have calculated the audio patterns of water hitting the metal surfaces of said metal coffin and it does not correlate to those sounds, even taking into account the addition of the body of the subject being inside the metal coffin at that time."
"We are now calculating other liquid trajectories at this time to find a probable mass density match," voices began calling out, with various names of liquids being stated.
"Coffee? No. Milk? No. Urine? No. Beer? No. Apple juice? No..."
"Silence!" The dominant voice boomed out, a wall of sound so loud that it felt as though a physical object had pushed me back a foot.
"Such discussion is secondary to the nature of the allegation that this human existed before the disaster," the dominant head stated, "An allegation not backed up by current evidence."
"Grape juice? No," a voice spoke after a moment of awkward silence, "Orange juice? No. Salt water? No. Root beer? No..."
"The basement was flooded at one point," I stated as loudly as I could, "It was flooded. There's evidence of that. Did you take that into account?"
Silence.
"Visual evidence confirms evidence of flooding," a few voices called out, adding quickly, "Recalculating..."
"There is no need for further discussion on this hypothesis," the dominant head declared, "No further visual evidenc..."
"We have reached a conclusion," a few uncoordinated voice rang out, "Aural data matches when the metal coffin is encased in water and the liquid inside is of an unknown composition with the following characteristics."
I heard a series of fast beeps in various tones, like a thousand telephone numbers being dialed all at once as quickly as possible.
"What about the stuff inside the gel chambers?" I called out, "Have you examined that yet? There were three chambers filled with the stuff."
"Examining..." The voices stated... "Examining..."
"Examining..."
"Examining..."
Suddenly, silence. No heads were moving or talking or... Or anything. They were just still. No expressions on their faces. After a moment, Oola slowly began to walk over towards me. This time, instead of holding my hand, she gripped my arm.
"I have never seen them like this before," she stated.
Just then, all of the faces began to exhibit expressions of sheer shock, followed by a gasp that shot a wave of fear through me as though I had just seen a ghost suddenly and up close.
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Post by kaijafon on Dec 30, 2012 16:30:36 GMT -6
that would be so freaky and scary! thanks!
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Post by patience on Dec 30, 2012 21:38:09 GMT -6
LOVE this tale! ;D
Can't wait to find out how much they suck up when they learn that our hero is their ONE AND ONLY real live human, so they can fix the planet back like it used to be. They must have a real guilt complex about frying it. So, let's get 'em busy fixing stuff!
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Post by steve on Dec 31, 2012 19:10:07 GMT -6
PART #0139
The floating, transparent screen grew and grew in size.
The video needed no further explanation. There was no audio.
I didn't even feel the tears coming down my cheeks until one splashed inadvertently against one of my hands. For a moment, I thought that it was sweat.
I never thought one could be overcome with emotion. Now I know what it feels like.
My life, in reverse, was playing on the floating transparent screen high above me. The Zekopors, those huge floating, holographic heads, still held their faces in poses of complete shock.
There I was, being placed inside the gel chamber.
There I was, putting on that stupid "space underwear."
There I was, trying to hold myself up in the shower after the most brutal exercise regimen I had ever experienced in my life.
Webbler's.
Performing some stupid psychological test for Scientific Research Analysis Incorporated.
Visiting Rollerskate Parks of America.
Being driven away by the police from the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park.
Working at the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park.
I can't remember sitting down on the ground. I can't remember when I started crying or when I held my head in my hands. Why was I shaking like a leaf? I have no idea. When did Oola let me go? Not a clue.
I remember finally looking up and seeing Oola and all the 're-enactors' positively mesmerized at the screen, a screen showing my memories like a VCR had gone crazy, rewinding and fast-forwarding erratically without rhyme or reason. Sometimes, the screen paused on a single frame. Other times, it would fast-forward or rewind for minutes on end without interruption.
Slowly, I began to collect myself. I wobbled back up into a standing position. I noticed more and more screens beginning to appear, sometimes replacing the floating heads, other times merely pushing them aside. More screens, more video from... Other people? It had to be. It must have been.
I walked over to Oola who was absolutely transfixed on all of the screens. Was it the expression of shock on her face? Fear? Wonder? Excitement? Trepidation? Yes to all of them and yet not quite any of them.
"That's your world," Oola gasped in nearly a whisper, slightly shaking as her eyes darted from one screen to the next.
"No," I stated to her, pointing up to the screens that now crowded out the entire fake sky above, "That's our world. Our beautiful world."
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Post by patience on Dec 31, 2012 19:29:03 GMT -6
Strong stuff there. The Zekopors needed a strong dose like that to beat the arrogance out of them. They finally got the wake-up call they SO DESPERATELY NEEDED!
Humility usually follows when an opinionated dipshit gets enlightened to his own state of utter ignorance. Let's hope that is the case here.
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Post by steve on Jan 1, 2013 8:11:49 GMT -6
PART #0140
Shock eventually gave way to action.
The 're-enactors' were eventually led back to their cages, or areas, or... Wherever they go when they're not pretending to be something that they aren't. I didn't even see them leave.
The screens eventually disappeared. The floating, transparent, holographic heads slowly vanished as well.
The car? The Zekopors took care of that. It's right back to where it originally was, as though it never left. You have to love super-advanced technology.
I took one of those "grey goo" baths. So did Oola. I "ate" for the first time in who-knows-how-long. So did Oola.
Action eventually led to results.
See what I'm wearing? Actual clothes. Real f**king clothes. Blue jeans. Underwear. Long-sleeve shirt. Even a pair of socks and shoes. When you've got thousands of years of advanced technology, replicating antiquated garments is as simple as falling off of a stool. Honestly, this stuff looked and felt like something you just bought from a store. That cop's uniform I was wearing? Happily back in the museum, right where it should be.
I waited for an apology that sort of came but wasn't a full apology. It was three-quarters of an apology. Close enough, I guess. No more cages for myself and Oola. The chant "Zekopor Appear" worked again... Heck, Now they wouldn't leave me alone. They wanted my opinion on everything.
There was no longer any more need for rehearsals or performances in 'The Town.' I don't think they've even turned the lights on in that place since they found my memory.
As much as life improved in the short-term in the immediate aftermath, though, there was one disappointment expressed...
"You've got clown feet," I playfully chastised Oola, quickly pulling the two largest roller skates after yet another aborted attempt to put them onto Oola's feet.
"Humans are so... Tiny," Oola commented, standing up from the bench.
The Archives was positively deserted now... Why study the decaying bones of dinosaurs when you can simply replicate the actual dinosaur itself?
"In more ways then one," I muttered, putting the roller skates back onto the counter.
"Look," I added quickly, "Rollerskating isn't for everyone, you know? I know a lot of people your age... Your realistic age, not your actual age... Who don't rollerskate."
"I do not know why," Oola replied, "It looks like fun once you become proficient at it."
"You know," I asked, "I really need to know - How come you don't use contractions? You know, like 'don't' instead of 'do not' or 'can't' instead of 'can not'?"
"Oh, that is easy," Oola stated, "I will show you."
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 1, 2013 19:25:42 GMT -6
Thanks
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Post by steve on Jan 2, 2013 19:15:09 GMT -6
PART #0141
It was a child's dictionary. The pages of the dictionary were yellowed. The spine of the dictionary made that snapping, creaking sound that really, really old books make.
"I have learned all of the words in that dictionary," Oola proudly stated, "Every single one of them. Go ahead, test me."
I tested her. It was true - She could recite the definition of any particular word verbatim.
"So this is why you don't use words like 'don't'?" I asked, "Because they're not in this dictionary?"
Oola looked around a bit and then pressed closer to me, "I am not allowed to," she uttered to me softly, "It is not proper English."
Straightening back up, Oola said in a proud tone, "I am so fluent in English that I could blend in on Earth with normal humans and no one would notice."
Her face dulling a bit as though realizing a sudden thought, Oola then clarified with less enthusiasm, "Well, if they did not see me."
"Oola," I replied, "You are more normal then a lot of people on Earth."
"I am?" Oola asked with genuine curiosity.
"Yes, you are," I verified, "And that is coming from the only human left from before the disaster."
"Ah, there you are," a holographic head stated, appearing before me, "Our apologizes for interrupting your conversation. We hope that we are not imposing but we require your private attendance for a moment."
"Of course," I replied. This happened all the time ever since they had discovered the rest of my memory.
Once alone, the holographic head continued, "We have some concerning developments to discuss with you."
"About what?" I asked.
"It concerns your placement back upon your reconstructed planet," the holographic head replied.
"What about it?" I asked.
"It is unfortunate to report that we will be unable to place you back on your planet once the reconstruction is complete," the holographic head stated.
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Post by steve on Jan 3, 2013 18:55:03 GMT -6
PART #0142
"What do you mean?" I asked, slightly incredulously, "I have to go back - I'm a part of Earth before... You know, the disaster."
"A duplicate, a clone of you, will go back," the holographic head clarified, "But you, yourself, can not go back. Your knowledge of us will disrupt the natural history of your planet. Even if you attempt to live a normal life, your actions here will only influence your actions there."
What did my face resemble? Shock? Anger? Disappointment? Probably one of those three or some combination thereof. I was speechless for a moment and barely stammered out a response.
"Well," I began, my tone increasingly angry, "Where the H**l am I supposed to go? I'm not going back into those d**n cages..."
"We anticipated your reaction," the holographic head replied, portraying a mournful face, "We understand your concerns and have worked diligently to provide you with appealing alternatives."
More awkward silence. More facial expressions from myself attempting to fully grasp what had just been told to me. The holographic head decided to break the awkward silence first.
"As the last authentic human," the holographic head began, "You are of great tourist value to other alien cultures. There are thousands of sentient species in this universe who would like to meet and interview you. I can only imagine that you are at least curious about the opportunity to visit their worlds as well."
"Aliens?" I asked, more incredulous then angry, "Aliens want to meet me?"
"Comparable news media exists in the universe just as on your own planet," the holographic head stated, "Your story is quite compelling and the uniqueness of your story has been found to have very broad appeal."
"What?" I asked, more cautiously, "Like, interviews?"
"The state of your planet's media makes comparisons difficult," the holographic head explained, "Interviews and news articles as you envision them could be comparable to current news media but there are also several other types of news media products that have little comparison to what you know of."
"Like I'm some sort of celebrity? Some intergalactic celebrity?" I asked.
"Yes!" the holographic head replied with an almost exaggerated enthusiasm, "The definition fits! Your opinions and outlook on topics that you have little if any exposure to is deemed valuable by others. You have a perceived neutrality based upon your inexperience with intergalactic affairs."
Talk about d**ning with faint praise...
"Can I think about it?" I asked, a pleading tone betraying my attempts at appearing calm, "Can I have some time to think this through and, perhaps, give you a... A second opinion? A counter-offer?"
"Time is limited," the holographic head stated, "Construction has already begun."
"Begun...?" I asked, shaking my head in confusion.
"...On your planet," the holographic head replied matter-of-factly, "We have already begun the reconstruction of Earth, circa the year 1984... Just before the disaster."
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Post by kaijafon on Jan 3, 2013 20:38:09 GMT -6
ah 1984, what a year, the year I graduated from high school and began "life" as an adult.... If I could go back to June 4, 1984, oh the things I'd change! LOL! I'd actually love to go back to 1966.... and change a few things... hahahahaha! But then again, I'd not be ME!!!
I don't think I'd mind if a clone took my place and I got to travel to different worlds!!! lol!
thank you!
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Post by hardtrailz on Jan 4, 2013 10:24:10 GMT -6
Simply... great story!
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Post by steve on Jan 4, 2013 19:17:46 GMT -6
PART #0143
I found Oola milling about in the Archives. The Archives seemed positively dead quiet... An entire parade could be conducted in that large, cavernous area and we would have been the only two souls to even notice.
"What did the Zekopors want to talk to you about?" She asked.
"Nothing of any significant consequence," I replied flatly.
"Oola," I quickly asked, "Let me ask you something. Have you... Have you ever wanted to see these buildings up close? See them as they actually were? Not as ruins or relics but as actual buildings?"
"It is Earth," Oola replied simply with a brightening smile, "An entire new civilization that no one... No other civilization even knew about before. Whole new cultures, new stories, new... New traditions. And... And it is home. Every human ever made after the disaster was made for the purpose of recreating actual humans in some small part. Their perceived agility or strength or height... We were created to be closer to them. To be them. And now... Now we know. We know exactly what they are capable of. How strong they are. How smart. How quick."
Oola sat down, hands folded into her lap, the smile dulling into a neutral expression.
"I never thought that I would see the day come when Earth would be recreated," she stated, "And now it is here. So different then any of us ever anticipated. All of our theories turned out to be wrong. Very wrong."
"Hey," I interrupted, "You did the best job you could. It's like a jigsaw puzzle, you know? You only had a few pieces to work with."
"Jigsaw puzzle?" Oola asked.
"A... A picture," I clarified, "You could only see a few small pieces of a much larger picture."
"What future do you think you'll have up here now?" I asked, "Now that they're rebuilding Earth?"
"I do not know," Oola stated, quickly standing up, "I... I am a designer human... I could never go down to actually visit Earth. Never... Never interact with it."
"But if you could," I asked, "Would you?"
"Yes," Oola answered enthusiastically, "I mean... Who would pass up that opportunity? It is an entire world... A new entire world to explore. Aquariums, monuments, landmarks, buildings... You could live an entire lifetime in just one area and never be bored!"
I looked at Oola with a gentle smile and merely replied whimsically, "Yeah... You can."
Snapping back to reality, I quickly added, "I'm, uh, going to take a goo bath before I forget."
"I took mine already," Oola replied, "I will wait for you here."
I left Oola and took the longest walk I had ever taken over to that vat of mysterious and creepy goo. Every step felt heavy and labored. My cheeks sagged. My brow creased.
There's nothing easy about making a difficult decision. Once I got to the goo bath, I called for a Zekopor to appear.
"I've got an offer for you," I said to the holographic floating head.
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Post by kaijafon on Jan 4, 2013 21:29:34 GMT -6
LOL! he got INTO the goo bath and THEN called for the Zekopor! lol! thanks!
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Post by steve on Jan 5, 2013 10:39:43 GMT -6
PART #0144
Have you ever seen those films where they take a picture of a plant, wait a day, take a picture of that plant from the exact same location, wait another day, and keep doing that for about six months? It's called "time lapse photography." I've seen some of those films back in high school. It's sort of freaky because you know it takes forever for those plants to grow but you're watching them grow right in a matter of seconds.
The same thing was happening with Earth. I mean, literally - You'd think it would take forever to reconstruct Earth. To rebuild the roads and the bridges... The electrical infrastructure... Every single house and building and trash can and automobile...
Nope. It was like watching time-lapse photography. Whole buildings and backyard landscapes would just appear. Roads were being laid out like some old lady flipping playing cards down onto a table while playing solitaire. Rivers were being re-dug back to their 1984 positions as though they were little blue snakes wiggling along the ground.
The speed at which the construction was occurring was frightening. It almost felt as though Earth was going to be completely reconstructed within hours instead of just days.
Frightening still was the unprecedented access that the Zekopors had to human memory. From my mind, they were able to somehow magically jump into the minds of everyone else. I had become some sort of "Patient Zero" to them.
Ever wonder what our the Founding Fathers actually sounded like? Now you knew. Ever wanted to witness the Spanish Civil War from every possible eyewitness perspective? Now you could. See the dying last moments of your favorite celebrity? It's all right there. Everything at your fingertips.
The Zekopors couldn't comprehend the concept of privacy - They just didn't understand it. Perhaps I should have known better then to pry into the minds of people but... Well, if you had the chance to look at the War of 1812 as it actually happened, wouldn't you? How about the Russian Revolution or the French Revolution? How about looking at the Ancient City of Rome as it actually was? Want to see how Stonehenge truly was built?
I hated the concept of "either/or." Either learn all of your history's past secrets or enjoy living in your planet's present. I also understood why the Zekopors wanted to put some sort of sanitized clone of me back on Earth, though. Imagine me writing the definitive novel of how JFK was assassinated... Or who the Zodiac Killer actually was or, for that matter, Jack the Ripper... Imagine if I designed a computer circuit thirty years ahead of its time... Or if I merely had sentiments ahead of my time...
In the end, the decision was far simpler then I could give it credit for.
The harder decision was what to tell Oola. I suppose it would only be fair to tell her the decision that I had made. I only hoped that she understood.
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 5, 2013 21:22:45 GMT -6
Thanks
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Post by steve on Jan 6, 2013 14:45:31 GMT -6
PART #0145
"I need to tell you something," Oola said, her face scrunched with indecision.
She needed to tell me something?
It had taken me some time to even find Oola, never mind talking to her.
Artifacts from the museum had already begun to be taken away to... Somewhere. Outer space? Some other dimension? Who knows.
The Archives? Deserted. I had gotten there just as the final 'buildings' (or, rather, the remnants of buildings) were being 'teleported' away. Seriously, I don't have a word for it. The things just vanished. There's some sort of opaque mist that forms around the whole thing and then -poof!- it's gone. The weirdest thing of all is that mist forms into this rectangular shape, as though someone smoking a cigar blows some smoke into a perfectly clear plastic box and the smoke hits all those edges.
The Town was all but dismantled and, for all of it's prior weirdness and inaccuracies, I sort of missed the absence of it. Gone were the six-sided stop signs. The houses were all gone. The mailboxes removed. Even the fake road had been perfectly uprooted through some mysterious method that I'll probably never figure out.
Everywhere I turned, the entire facility had begun to empty out and empty out in a hurry. Even the re-enactors had disappeared. Who would have thought that I would be slightly nostalgic for them.
Therefore, it was with great relief that I had finally found Oola, in all places, back at the bedroom where I had started my search. After all, I had left her there to go talk privately with the Zekopors.
"Look," she began to explain, physically steeling herself for whatever she was about to say, "I have given this a lot of thought, and I..."
"No," I tried to interrupt, "Oola, listen to me, this is very important to you and I..."
"There you are!" I heard the telltale voice of a Zekopor behind me, "We have been looking all over for the both of you!"
We both turned to face the floating, holographic head. Huh.
"We are ready to proceed with the cloning," the Zekopor stated with unbridled satisfaction, "We must proceed quickly so that we may vacate the entire facility. We are one day ahead of schedule. We shall have reconstructed your planet in approximately six days but we need the cloning process to begin sooner to allow for proper placement and testing."
"OK, uhm, wait," I tried to stammer out, looking both back at Oola and towards the floating head, "I just have to tell..."
"Oola," the Zekopor stated, "We need you to come with us for a moment, please."
Oola's face froze for a moment and I saw in her face a mixture of genuine sadness and surprise. Looking towards me, she suddenly gripped me as tightly as possible, bending down to hug me.
Had she hugged me any harder she would've crushed my ribs. I'm not joking.
When she let go, I could tell she was trying to hold back tears and on the verge of failing miserably. She quickly left the room, practically jogging out. What the...? Did she think that...?
I needed to get to the bottom of this. I never got that chance.
"Wait...!" I tried to yell, beginning to walk towards the door.
I felt the world go black and silent.
It was the last time I ever saw a Zekopor ever again.
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Post by steve on Jan 7, 2013 19:32:09 GMT -6
PART #0146
What was my first memory? Floating. Floating in cold oatmeal. Floating in cold oatmeal in total darkness.
How long had I been out? It felt like forever.
I was thirsty. Very thirsty.
*FWEE-SHHHHH-KAAAAA*
I felt the oatmeal, gel, whatever it was begin to recede. Soon, I was going to be free, collect my $100 dollars and never again volunteer for something so crazy and stupid. My mind already began to think about getting back to work and all the other mundane routines that I had developed in my new role as "Night Stock Clerk."
Light. Blurry light.
Blurry humans pulling me up slowly into a sitting position. Burly humans. Burly male humans. They're saying something but it's... muffled. They're not saying it to me but... To each other?
I felt someone take my swimming cap off.
I felt someone take my goggles off.
I blink my eyes what feels like a thousand times before I feel the warm, fuzzy touch of a towel wipe over my face.
I can see again. Clearly.
Hey... Where's my...? Oh. The guy must've taken my nose clip off when he was wiping off my face. No wonder I can breathe freely. The same with the breathing tube that was stuck in my mouth. When did that disappear?
The two men eventually pull me up into a standing position, one wrapping a large white towel over me.
"Congratulations," I heard one of them say, "You're awake. How are you feeling?"
"I... Uhm... Ur," I stammered, looking around, stalling for time to collect myself, "Fine. Fine, I guess."
There's a man with a clipboard. He's looking at me quickly and then scribbling something down just as quickly. Back at me. Back down at the clipboard, scribbling away.
"Are you experiencing any nausea?" The man asks, trying to be both polite but expedient.
"Uhm... No," I reply.
"Do you feel soreness in your knees, elbows, wrists, ankles or shoulders?" The man asks.
I rapidly ball my hands into fists a few times, rotate my wrists & move my other joints.
"Um... No," I reply.
"Are you excessively hungry, thirsty or both?" The man asks.
"I'm thirsty," I reply.
The man looks up at me for an extra moment but then scribbles away at the clipboard, muttering "OK."
"Are you experiencing any headaches or light-headedness?" The man asks.
"No," I reply, now beginning to get my bearings enough to look around the room.
"Can you tell me what day it is today?" The man asks, looking up at me quickly after he asked.
I thought for a moment.
"March 15," I stated, "1984."
The man nodded, scribbling something down on the clipboard.
"Are you experiencing any symptoms not described in the following questions? Any significant sensations that you might be experiencing?" The man asked.
"I've got a tube stuck up my butt," I deadpanned, "Does that count?"
I could hear the two guys who had pulled me out of the gel chamber try hard not to laugh. One failed. The man asking the questions broke into an unprofessional smile before finally giving in and lightly laughing to himself.
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 7, 2013 21:57:04 GMT -6
What? ?? Is it real or is it Memorex? LOL Thanks
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Post by patience on Jan 8, 2013 11:51:31 GMT -6
I can't wait until he goes back to work at the roller rink and this blue haired Amazon comes in.... ;D
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Post by steve on Jan 8, 2013 19:12:24 GMT -6
PART #0147
I was glad to get that "space underwear" off of me. I was especially glad to have no more tubes stuck in places where tubes shouldn't normally go.
I took a shower at the facility, one of the lab assistants standing outside just in case I fell over and died or some other horrible mishap. Nothing happened of the sort; I just took what I thought was an ordinary shower. Maybe they were timing me or something. Who knows.
While I was getting dressed, I took a moment to look at my driver's license for some reason. It didn't expire for another three years. Maybe I had thought that it expired this year. While looking at it, I noticed that my fingernails could probably use some trimming. They weren't "lady length" nails or anything like that but it was better to trim them sooner rather then later.
While walking out of the changing room, something caught my eye or rather, something didn't catch my eye. I realized that I was the only one in the changing room. I don't know why that struck me as weird but it did.
"Say," I asked one of the lab assistants, "You got any nail clippers?"
"Sure thing," the lab assistant replied, "We've got some back in the other room. Follow me."
We went back into the gel chamber room, now completely empty except for us. All of the gel chambers were empty and open, mine being the only one that looked recently used. The gel chambers and their states drew my attention as the lab assistant quickly opened up the center drawer on the office desk inside the room and handed it to me.
"Thanks," I replied, slightly distracted, looking over towards the lab assistant to grab the nail clippers before looking back at the gel chambers.
"Not to be too nosy," I began, clipping my nails into an available wastebasket, "But where are the other two guys? You know, the guys who went through all that exercising alongside me?"
"Oh," the lab assistant replied, motioning over to the last two gel chambers, "The seals on their doors had a slight leak on them so we had to abort their experiment after an hour or so. Tough break for them - They only got fifty bucks."
"Sucks to be them," I stated, finishing up clipping my nails.
"Thanks," I said, handing back the nail clippers.
"No problem," the lab assistant replied, putting the nail clippers back.
The lab assistant walked me back up to the front lobby of the building. There was some minor end-of-the-experiment chit-chat: We might be sending you a questionnaire, thanks for taking part, you've been a good sport, we'll be mailing you a check... Blah blah blah.
We shook hands. He left.
The front lobby. I just stared at it for a moment, looking around. Why? I didn't know. Man, that stupid gel chamber must've really screwed me up. I must've been in some massive deep sleep or something because everything just felt so... Weird. Foreign. Like... I don't know. Like it was familiar but it wasn't. Like it was nostalgic or something.
I shook my head like I was trying to rattle some dice inside of a cup and walked out the front doors of the lobby.
I had to be at Webbler's in a few hours.
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Post by nancy1340 on Jan 9, 2013 0:04:48 GMT -6
Really a fun story. Thanks
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Post by steve on Jan 9, 2013 15:26:18 GMT -6
PART #0148
I didn't want to stock shelves anymore. I didn't want to work anymore. It was the weirdest feeling in the world.
It's a hard feeling to describe... Imagine being at a job for twenty years. You've built up all of this experience. Now transport yourself back to a time when you've only been at that job for three weeks. That's the feeling I had. On one level, I felt free... Like I had just escaped from jail or something. It didn't have the stigma of escaping though... No one was pursuing me, I wasn't looking over my shoulder. On another, you just felt this huge wave of nostalgia, like you weren't supposed to be there, that you were some time traveler from the distant future and that you're nothing but a tourist.
I was fascinated by the cans I was stocking. I was fascinated by the broom I was sweeping the floor with. The carriages I was pushing back into a row. The cardboard boxes that I was cutting up.
What the heck did that stupid chamber do to me? Was I permanently high or something?
The day I went back to work at Webbler's, I knew that place wasn't for me anymore. I was a visitor there. Some guy who had just walked in who they started paying and, through guilt of conscience, decided to work for the money they threw me. I didn't belong there. It wasn't about my co-workers or my boss or anything like that - They were all pretty nice folks. I put in my resignation two days later.
I also stopped working at Scientific Research Analysis. Victor understood.
It was the craziest decision I had ever made but I made it without any reservation - I moved out of the state for the first time in my life. Sold a bunch of stuff I used to hold dear in order to do it. I packed my entire life into a small trailer and drove ten hours as far as I could down the highway. I would've driven across the ocean if such a thing was possible. Driven around the world if it was possible.
A local grocery clerk gave me a tip to speak to a bartender who told me to speak to a local roller skating rink about work. So I did.
What a run-down, beat up place. The rink was small. The rink was slightly uneven. The DJ equipment was all bargain basement crap. The music selection was crap. The video game machines (all three of them) were old and beat up. The restrooms looked like something out of a horror movie. The lighting was next to non-existent. Their selection of roller skates was pathetic.
I loved it. Loved every part of it. Loved the fact that it was locally-owned and not part of the RSA conglomerate that had taken over the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park. As soon as they saw that I could repair roller skates without looking like a chump, I was hired. Part time. My smile couldn't have been wider walking out of that roller skating rink if it tried.
The roller skating rink job, though, was just the start. I had bigger plans.
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