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Post by kaijafon on Oct 2, 2012 7:41:05 GMT -6
I know it's only been ONE week....but it sure feels like ONE YEAR!!!! lol! just want you to know, you (and not just your story) is missed!!! I hope all is going well with ya!
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Post by steve on Oct 8, 2012 12:46:09 GMT -6
PART #0058
A lot has happened since I took that test with the floating screen, as you can clearly tell. Here, take a look for yourself.
Yeah, it looks weird. I'll grant you that.
What are you looking at, you ask? A town. A... 'sorta' town, I guess you could call it. The buildings all look correct but... Not really. The doors are too large. The rooms are too large. It's as though all of the buildings (the habitable ones, at least) were made for... Well, made for those people walking around.
And who are all those people walking around? Yeah, I guess you could call them 'humans.' They have two legs, two arms, they look normal enough from a distance but... Well, look at them. They look slightly different, don't they? Their skin looks thicker. They walk upright but it's not "their first language," so to speak. And they're huge. Each one of these guys (and I'm talking about the ladies, too) could either be in basketball or football... Or both.
And just try talking to most of these "people." Try. Go on, I dare you. Trust me, you'll be bowled over the moment they open their mouth... In more ways than one.
I had a hard time out in the wilderness. I could barely feed myself. Barely clothe myself. Barely defend myself against the "ferals," as they call them. But at least I was free.
And who are "they?"
And where is this?
They call it, "Earth." The town of Earth. I'm not joking. Read the signpost the moment you enter the 'town.'
Oh, I forgot to mention my 'roommate.' Here she comes now.
Try hard not to stare at her day-glo orange skin, her electric blue long hair, the fact that she's easily a foot taller than me and her four... Uhm... How can I be polite about this? Let's just say that if she ever had quadruplets, everyone would have their own drinking fountain... A rather large drinking fountain, at that.
And she's the most normal one here. Figure that one out.
Crud. Did you hear those tones? It's time to eat. I've got to go. Yeah, I know - I have to fill you in on what you've missed... Not like you're going to believe it. I still don't, either.
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Post by kaijafon on Oct 8, 2012 16:51:43 GMT -6
YAY!!!!! MOAR!!!!! thank you!!!! thank you!!!!
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Post by steve on Oct 9, 2012 18:40:54 GMT -6
PART #0059
There's a lot I need to explain to you. Maybe I introduced you to the scene a bit too quickly. To say that living in this 'town' with these 'people' in these 'buildings' and with this 'roommate' is a departure from everyday reality would be the understatement to end all understatements.
We were last left in a strange room with a floating 'television screen' of sorts that was able to discern where I touched the screen to answer a very simple puzzle.
Well, that was only the first of many puzzles. Many, many puzzles. Puzzles that eventually became legitimately tougher.
To put your mind at ease, I did get a few puzzles wrong but not in the way of logic. I know my basic math, colors and things like that. However, at no time were there any verbal instructions to these puzzles at all. Instead, it was all in these pictographic symbols... You know, arrows and other symbols meant to convey words but in a symbol. So, sometimes, I would have to learn what the symbols were trying to tell me before I understood what to do. After I learned that aspect of the puzzle, the puzzle itself was fairly easy.
When you got a puzzle wrong, it was like you smelled a skunk fart for a second. It was weird: The screen wobbled slightly, you heard this "BOUNG!" sound and smelled this awful skunk scent for about a second or two. The skunk scent wasn't overpowering but it was definitely nauseating. I wouldn't want to smell it all the time, I can tell you that much.
I was really surprised to see numbers - You know, the numbers that you or I know of as numbers, as part of the puzzles. The puzzles introduced them gradually - There would be a single circle next to the number 1, there would be two circles next to the number 2. They would then show you a single circle and display the numbers 1 and 2, forcing you to select one of the two numbers. Simple.
From colors to symbols to numbers... The puzzles went on and on. They eventually introduced letters as well but it got sort of weird because they kept mixing up the uppercase and lowercase letters. I'm not joking - they would, for instance, spell "cat" as "cAT" or "caT." OK. Also, some of the words would be mispronounced: the "-ood" in "good" was pronounced like "mood." "Door" (spelled as "dOoR") was pronounced like "doer." "toASt" was "To-ah-st."
Just as suddenly as the screen had appeared at the start of all of this, the screen suddenly vanished after I had completed a puzzle by putting a piece of "tOasT" next to a "TOAsTEr" as opposed to a "WASher," a "drYINgER" or a "DIShy WashINGton" (I'm not making that last one up, I swear to you).
This next part freaked me out and you can laugh all you want but when you suddenly see this large, holographic version of your face appear before you and speak weirdly in your own voice... Yeah, it was weird.
"What your is name?" It (or should I write "I"?) asked.
"What?" I replied.
"Hello, What?" It replied, mimicking my "What?" precisely.
I'll spare you the remainder of the "Who's on First" routine but we eventually got my name straightened out.
If only the rest of the conversation had gone as smoothly...
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Post by nancy1340 on Oct 9, 2012 20:08:46 GMT -6
Very glad your are able to continue this story. Thank you.
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Post by kaijafon on Oct 9, 2012 20:12:59 GMT -6
thank you!! I appreciate the newest additions! Love the "What" bit!
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Post by steve on Oct 10, 2012 18:27:06 GMT -6
PART #0060
To transcribe the conversation that I had with a large, holographic rendition of my own head would be an exercise in futility. To even summarize the conversation would probably be asking too much from anyone save, perhaps, a sadomasochistic stenographer.
After all, sentences such as "How our did enter you reservation?" are hard enough to write never mind understand and respond to. Oh, and try to talk normal to them. Do it - I dare you. Just try it once. Here's what you'd get:
"I not do understand."
"You confusing are me."
"Please your restate answer."
Do you know how difficult it is to think normally and then have to 'jumble' up your sentences to their 'normal'? And I'm not even relaying the fact that most of the words are pronounced incorrectly. "I not do understand" is really spoken like "Ih note doe undoorstahnd." I'm not talking accents like where a Southener drops the "g" in words like "talking" (to sound like "talkin'") or a New Englander glossing over the "r" in words like "park" (to sound like "pahk"). These were just straight out mispronunciations.
And I thought the puzzles were tough.
I eventually figured out, through many multiple tries, during our conversation that I had been inside a "reservation" for "ferals." Apparently, they found it odd that a feral would be capable of touching the tower which.. I'm guessing here... Is some sort of fence post and that weird, horrible sensation that I had been feeling while walking towards the tower was purposeful discouragement to not stray too close to it.
I asked them where I was.
"You in are of town the Earth."
Got that?
OK, fine. Who the heck are you people?
"We for of Zekopors the are town the Earth." Don't hold me to that "Zekopors" spelling - It's just my guess.
Do you know what year it is?
"I not do understand."
This is why transcribing the conversation is something I would really prefer to avoid.
Our conversation went like this until it said something like, "We find will until you can you a new keep we Zekopor."
Right.
That's when the world went black for me again.
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Post by steve on Oct 11, 2012 18:43:30 GMT -6
PART #0061
Do you know how disconcerting it is to suddenly jump from one location to another? Couldn't they simply have given me directions instead? I could've probably used the exercise.
So where was I? In another room, naturally. It was somewhat fancier. It still held the oversized dimensions of the previous "bedroom" that I was in. The room looked like it accommodated two people - It was identical down the length of the room as to where the beds and the... Other objects were. What was weird was that the other side of the room looked... Occupied. Used. Lived in.
The "bed" was this white, shimmery field that slightly tingled when I touched it. You actually 'sank' into it but not completely, as though you were compacting all of these tiny white specks down to create a more dense field beneath you.
The walls had this weird psychedelic pattern on them that slowly shifted, like some sort of abstract painting that slowly changed gradually over time. Touching the wall with my finger paused this changing but only for as long as I was touching it.
The giant head suddenly appeared again before me.
"This room be your the time for will being."
"Who else...," I began to say, pointing to the other side of the room, before realizing I had to jumble my sentences, "Who lives else besides here me?"
"Oola," the giant head replied, "She designer is but human speaks a fluently."
Putting me in a room with a female... thing? A female human? Like one of those ferals I had encountered earlier while walking towards that tower?
"What Oola look does like?" I asked slowly, not for dramatic license but because thinking of what you wanted to say, knowing that saying it normally would make no sense to them and then having to jumble up the sentence and then say that sentence took a lot of brain power.
"It not does matter," the giant head replied, "She attracted not be to will you."
Huh.
"Does know she I that this am in room?" I asked.
"She been has told your of arrival," the giant head replied.
Great. Nothing like a cold introduction to make a good first impression.
That introduction came far sooner then I had expected.
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Post by nancy1340 on Oct 11, 2012 23:15:24 GMT -6
A very fun story. Thank you.
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Post by steve on Oct 12, 2012 18:42:34 GMT -6
PART #0062
There she was in the doorway.
Was that a costume she was wearing? It couldn't really be...
The large holographic head changed from looking like my head to some different head that both myself and the... Whomever she was, could see and hear.
"Oola," the head stated, "meet new your roommate."
OK, you know, I'll admit it - I stared, alright? It's not everyday that a naked woman just walks through a doorway. A woman who happens to be orange-colored and really tall (or at least taller than me by at least a foot) and have long blue hair and... uhm... multi-endowed? I mean, I know the term "four-eyes" but what do you call it when you've got four...
"Hi," I said, forcing myself to remain calm while looking at her face, "My is name..."
Oola glanced down at me (both literally and figuratively) for a moment, her face neutral. She then walked quickly past me towards her bed.
"Oola," the head stated firmly, Oola practically snapping around as though pulled by some invisible rope tied to her, "Present to yourself him."
Oola looked at me for another moment, her expression softening slightly. Her voice was soft.
"It meet a is pleasure to you," Oola slowly and softly replied.
"It meet a is pleasure to you," I spoke, continuing to force myself to look only at her face.
Man, if only the guys could see me now... Half of them would be high-fiving me and the other half would be telling me to run and to run fast.
"Oola around show will the town you later," the head stated, "After re-enactor your rehearsal. We go must now."
"My...?" I began to ask but the world fell black once more.
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Post by steve on Oct 13, 2012 8:41:09 GMT -6
PART #0063
Take a look at yourself for a moment. You can keep your clothes on if you want.
You look pretty normal, right? OK, so some of you are probably overweight and a few others might need to put on a few pounds but, for the most part, you look fairly straight forward, right?
Now imagine if you had really long arms. I mean, long in comparison to the rest of your body. Or really long legs. If you think you have big feet, make them 10 sizes bigger... And wider. Is your head large for your body? Now imagine if it was almost twice the size... Or half the size.
And I'm not even mentioning 'other' body parts best left for a medical journal.
So where was I teleported to this time? To the 'town' to meet the 're-enactors.'
Yeah, I know - You've got questions. I still have questions and I was there when it happened.
Imagine being teleported into a room with about fifteen people about two to three feet taller then you, easily two hundred pounds heavier then you... And the smell...
Look, I've seen people who were freakishly tall or freakishly short but... There was something really off about these people. It was like standing next to a large statue of a parody of a person rather then a realistic depiction of a person.
The people were all wearing 'clothes' and I use that term loosely. The best way that I can describe it is if you've ever seen those dorky T-shirts that have a drawing of a tuxedo on them. It's hard to describe - It's just a T-shirt but the drawing on the front makes it look, from far away, like they're wearing a tuxedo jacket. Sure, from far away and with only a momentary glance, you think to yourself, "That guy's wearing a tuxedo," but when you look closer, you realize that it's just a T-shirt with the drawing of a tuxedo on it.
Well, these guys were wearing all versions of those 'tuxedoes on a T-shirt' type clothes. There's a guy wearing a long sleeve shirt made to look like a police uniform. There's a 'firefighter.' That's a mail carrier. She's (I'm pretty sure it's a she) wearing a nurse's outfit as depicted from 1950's television shows.
All of these people were just milling about, slightly slouched over, their legs slightly bent at the knees with their arms dangling outwards. Were they mimicking the type of stance a monkey takes when trying to stand upright on the ground? It was hard to say but the comparison was more valid than not.
Did I mention the plainly obvious wigs yet? Hey, everyone has that balding uncle or father or neighbor that takes roadkill from the side of the road, glues it on top of their head and calls it a toupee or a wig. I mean, look - If it matters that much to you, then go get it covered. I'm not one to judge. I'm just saying that if you need a carpet, splurge a little and get a good one. That's all.
However, ALL of these people were wearing one and they looked HORRIBLE. Not only that but they were mismatched to their profession and to their gender. For instance, how many female nurses wear their hair in a pompadour? When have you seen a pompadour, period? How many male police officers wear a bowl cut? Kids have bowl cuts, not grown adults. And I don't know about you, but I've never seen a judge wear a mullet before.
The worst, though, was yet to come. Just like they were all wearing 'costumes,' I supposedly needed one, too. Guess what I had to wear? Take a guess.
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Post by steve on Oct 14, 2012 12:29:30 GMT -6
PART #0064
Is it really that hard to figure out what 'role' I would be playing? Here, let me make it painfully obvious: I'm shorter and smaller than everyone here by a significant degree.
That's right - I'm a child in this bizarro universe production.
Not just a child... I'm a toddler. A f**king toddler.
Oh, but wait, it gets better - Guess what I'm wearing to portray myself as a toddler? No, no, take your time on this one. I want you to savor all of the mentally awkward possibilities.
Give up? Sit down for this one and swallow first - A "onesie."
Oh, shut up and stop laughing. You wouldn't be laughing if you were the one handed the f**king costume. The look on my face must have been priceless once I had figured out what the design on the 'clothes' meant. Perhaps the only dignity in all of this (and I use that term oh-so-loosely) is the fact that, like all the other costumes, this one is just a pattern printed on a generic shirt and pants - It's not an actual onesie in the sense that it's one piece of clothing, nor does it have actual buttons or a zipper in front.
To be fair, the 're-enactors' didn't really react badly to me. Maybe I was just nervous being near taller, heavier humanoids after my first run-ins with the contemporary residents (the 'ferals' as they are known) involved a lot of violence. However, their silence was deafening - Not just to myself but to each other.
OK, how often does this happen to you? A bunch of people who supposedly work together all the time walk into a room and say nothing. Not a word, not a peep. Sure, there may be a cough or a sniffle but no words spoken. None whatsoever.
The clothes fit like all the clothes I had worn so far fit - That same plastic-y, paper-y feel. The magical belt buckle that instantly tightens.
So, I'm a 're-enactor,' I'm a 'toddler...' Can you imagine what lines of dialog they're going to give me?
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Post by kaijafon on Oct 14, 2012 19:27:29 GMT -6
LOL! hilarious! I was not expecting that at all! I wonder how long he lasts until he revolts!!! thank you! so! MUCH!!!
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Post by steve on Oct 15, 2012 15:10:32 GMT -6
PART #0065
Now I know why actors read the script before they agree to act in a movie.
What? You think that these 're-enactors' simply walk around all day ad-libbing? Of course not.
The 'town' is no more real than the town in that train set that one of your family friends has down in their basement - You know, the one where you're guilt-tripped going down and seeing & then saying something like, "Wow, that took a lot of effort" while you listen to them rattle on about all the thousands of hours it has taken to make it look both period-accurate and bat-s**t insanely anal at the same time.
Go ahead, look into one of those 'buildings.' That's not wallpaper on the walls even though it looks like it - It's just printing. Even the 'peeling' is a print. Think any of these buildings are wired for electricity? Of course not. Go over to that light switch and pull it off the wall. Go ahead, do it. Now flip the switch. It still worked, didn't it? Creepy. In fact, the 'lightbulbs' don't even need to be screwed into a socket in order for them to work. Here, let me show you. See? I can carry around this stupid lightbulb all day long and wherever the switch is, the lightbulb will still turn on and off when someone flips the switch.
This whole place is wacky. Check out the grass. Check it out. Looks like some space-age equivalent of astro-turf, the stuff they use in the football stadiums. The road? That's not asphalt - It's just some sort of hard, flat surface painted to look like a road. Has anyone even driven on this thing? Do they have actual automobiles here?
I'm getting off topic, though. Back to the script... Literally.
First off, there's no paper script. There's just a floating screen in front of you that only you can see. You look directly at the screen and you see the words scroll from top to bottom, just like a teleprompter. The edges of the teleprompter light up to indicate where the floating screen will go next - You know, up, down, left, right or some combination thereof. Forward and backward is given to in the form of font size - Too small? Walk forward. Too large? Step back.
Rehearsal involved a walk through the actual town.
OK, look - I don't want to write down what I actually had to say. It's too humiliating. Folks, imagine every stereotype of a toddler and then imagine a really, really bad screenwriter writing about that toddler. There you go.
There were things like, "Mommy, to I want a ride bike!" and "I like not do green beans!" I ran around aimlessly on the front lawn of a house for who knows how many minutes.
Then, though, I saw something in the script that turned my blood cold.
"Zokoper," I called out, "I a have question!"
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Post by steve on Oct 16, 2012 18:49:09 GMT -6
PART #0066
Throw me back to the f**king ferals... I was not going to get spanked.
"Small naughty are and children evil," my large, holographic head told me, "They be constantly must disciplined."
I had to remain calm and focused.
"There are..." I began to say, forgetting to jumble my sentences, "There other are to ways a discipline child."
"I not do understand," the holographic head replied, "There only is spanking."
"How you do that know are there other no ways?" I asked.
"We the are Zokopers," the large, holographic head replied with some reverence, "We about human all know history."
Now I was more nervous then calm.
"I love would hear to the about of history humans," I slowly replied, smiling broadly for effect.
"Did always they like look this?" I added, pointing towards one of the 're-enactors,' one of the 8-foot tall humanoids that was dressed like a chef straight off of a food can label.
"Ahhh," the holographic head replied, looking briefly at the re-enactor I had pointed towards and then back at myself, "We the finest have legacy only breeds human here. You the history entire see can the humanity museum here at in our town."
Uh-huh. Did you get all of that?
OK, I wasn't going get these guys on my side through historical accuracy. I tried a different approach.
"Your work re-enactors hard," I admitted, "Why make not job their simpler?"
"What you do mean?" the holographic head replied.
"The of act takes spanking to so long practice," I stated, "But myself having in stand corner a pretend and cry to much is simpler. Let show me you."
I proceeded to walk to a corner, face it, drop my head down and cry for a few minutes.
I could hear behind me the holographic head gasp, causing me to turn around. I turned around to the head looking absolutely ecstatic.
"That so is novel!" The head exclaimed, "I that write the into script will at the once!"
Suddenly, I heard a series of tones. The re-enactors perked up briefly, then began to shuffle away in an unified direction. In short order, I was all alone. A moment later, the holographic head informed me that rehearsal had ended for awhile.
I had a reprieve from the weirdness... For now.
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Post by kaijafon on Oct 16, 2012 21:38:19 GMT -6
bravo for quick thinking! spanking indeed! lol! thank you!
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Post by steve on Oct 17, 2012 18:25:51 GMT -6
PART #0067
Have you ever run a long distance before? You know, 5 miles or more? I have. I'm not a jogger or anything like that but everyone's jogging nowadays and it never hurts to at least show up. Heck, I've even gotten a few phone numbers out of it but I suppose that's for an entirely different discussion.
Anyway, the point is that, at a certain point, your body adapts to the hardship of jogging. It gets into a rhythm. Even though you're jogging and it's tough and it'd do anything to stop, there's a sort of comfort in the constant struggle. You're not thinking about anything else other then where to place that next step. Is there a hill ahead? A curve? Are there cars on the road? A bicyclist?
You get so wrapped up in jogging that, when you finally do stop running, it feels weird. The world rushes back to you. All of a sudden, you're thinking about grocery shopping and paying bills, vacuuming the living room, maybe getting together with your friends...
That's what happened to me when all the re-enactors left that rehearsal thing that we were doing. All of a sudden, I was alone. It was... Quiet. I was standing on a fake lawn, in front of a fake house in a fake town... On Earth? Was that even a real sky above me? In a world of floating screens and holographic heads that appear out of nowhere, anything was possible.
I had friends before. I had parents. Extended family. Neighbors. I had an apartment. I had... I had stuff! My stuff! Furniture, cooking utensils, a stereo, clothes, books... All of it gone. Gone forever. Where the heck was I? Who the heck were these... These "Zokopers" or whatever the heck they call themselves and just what were those humanoid...
Literally, I was lost. I was in a "town" but I had been teleported from my "room" and then we all traipsed out here to the town for a rehearsal and now... Where the heck was my room in relation to the town? Anywhere? Nowhere? For all I knew, I had been teleported hundreds of miles from place to place.
I found myself choking up a bit. It's a bad feeling, that feeling of loneliness, that feeling of... Abandonment. Every development just seemed to reinforce the obvious notion that there was no longer any 'home.' This, for now, was home. This weird, artificial reproduction of what resembled a town.
"I that figured were you here," I heard Oola say. I turned around and saw her walk towards me, still wrapped in only her birthday suit.
"They you teleport always new you too guys much," she stated, "Never chance a give you learn the to layout."
She smirked at me for a moment, placing a hand on her hip.
"Nice costume," she stated plainly.
"I yours like better," I retorted, "You it wear well."
She flinched for a moment, a flash of surprise streaking across her face before being replaced with a sneer.
"Look, feral," she growled angrily, "Know your place or I will squash you like the useless legacy breed that you are!"
"Wait, what?" I reacted, taking a few steps back in response (OK, guys, cut me some slack - She's a foot taller than me and who knows how much punch that frame of hers could pack), "When did you learn to talk like that?"
Now it was her turn to act surprised and take a few steps back.
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Post by steve on Oct 18, 2012 16:38:37 GMT -6
PART #0068
"What kind of feral are you?" Oola asked, slowly backing away from me like I had the bubonic plague or something. The expression on her face, the tone of the question and the fact that she was still backing up pissed me off more then anything else.
"I'm not a feral," I snorted back, "Whatever the H**l that's supposed to mean."
"So what breed are you?!" Oola asked, "And what were you doing in a nature preserve? Were you dumped?!"
"What...?" I began to sputter, my anger slowly consuming whatever civility I had left, "What am I? What the f**k are you?! Who the f**k are...!!!"
"Hey! Hey!!" Oola began to interrupt, waving her arms, "The Zokopers monitor emotions. They'll appear if you get too angry."
I paused for a moment and, sure enough, I saw the large holographic head only seconds later. Oola must have seen hers, as I saw her look away and began to acknowledge something off to her left that I couldn't see.
"You be to appear angry," the holographic head stated, the head slowly pulsating from red to my normal skin color, "Why you are angry?"
"I...," I began to say, noticing that Oola had not yet spoken, "I trying was new out my for dialog character. I to want sure make play I role the well."
The holographic face leaned closer to me for a moment, still pulsating red but the redness grew softer.
"The been already has script written," the Zokoper stated firmly, "Just can because you not speak does you mean to allowed are write. You smart are a for feral, but are you a not Zokoper."
"I any for apologize misunderstandings," I stated, "I only will lines say the in script."
The holographic head leaned back, the pulsating gone and a smile forming.
"Very well," the holographic head replied, "Carry on." It disappeared instantly and without sound.
I looked over at Oola, who looked back at me.
"Are you alone?" I asked.
"Yes," she replied.
"OK," I said, "Lesson learned. Thanks."
"You are welcome," she replied.
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Post by kaijafon on Oct 18, 2012 17:15:40 GMT -6
I'm starting to think that Oola is a "kept woman" like our friend is a "kept man"
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Post by steve on Oct 19, 2012 14:54:35 GMT -6
PART #0069
The film was meant for the 're-enactors,' those humanoids that dressed up as cops, doctors, mail carriers and fire fighters but really looked more like shaved Yeti that wore really bad wigs.
I hadn't seen the film yet - The Zokopers probably assumed I had already seen it in one form or another, given the fact that I was smart enough to speak and read.
Ask yourself if an actor pretending to be a doctor could really perform surgery in real life. Ask yourself if an actor pretending to be an assassin could really plan and pull off a daring assassination. Ask yourself if an actor pretending to be a police officer could really disarm a hostage standoff that gets more desperate with each passing moment.
Of course not. They're actors - They read a script, they perform some research to get a feel for the role, they hit their marks on the floor, say their lines and then go back to their trailer to snort lines of drugs or bang a groupie (or, most likely, both at the same time).
It was the same with the 're-enactors' - They could speak the lines but didn't have a clue what they actually meant. Go ahead, try it: Read a novel in a foreign language you don't know. Sure, you can pronounce the words and, with some practice, can even make it sound fairly good. Do you understand what the heck you're reciting though? Of course not.
Do actors keep their movie clothes on after the cameras stop rolling? Of course not. Neither did the re-enactors. They had discarded their clothes shortly after the rehearsal had ended. Oola and I walked past their "holding area," where I saw every last one of them as naked as a jaybird. Trust me, folks, you're lucky that I didn't have a camera with me at the time.
There were a lot of pictures and scenes in the film, all of which only contained sound effects or non-language human sounds. It reminded me of a futuristic version of those stained glass windows on churches depicting various scenes from the Bible. Oola provided actual, verbal commentary.
So, what was I watching? I was watching a historical film. A film as to what happened on March 15, 1984.
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Post by steve on Oct 20, 2012 12:17:08 GMT -6
PART #0070
An alien ray hit the Earth. Most of the animals died. Practically all of the humans died. The few humans who didn't die became mental midgets as a result of the ray.
The aliens didn't mean for their ray to hit the Earth. As a result, they took the responsibility of rehabilitating the Earth as best they could.
That's the synopsis of the film that I watched with Oola. The film is meant for "us," the humans. There were no words, just pictures and recreated scenes along with some musical accompaniment. Oola tried to fill in some gaps with her own commentary.
There was a museum as well. Choice artifacts of humanity's past. I walked through it with Oola. A tattered police uniform. The remnants of a washing machine. A rake. A restored automobile. A non-working clock.
"I walk through this place every now and then," Oola commented, "Earth must have been a pretty weird place."
What do you say to that? The truth? Could I afford to just blurt out, "Hey, Oola, I'm an actual human, you know?"
"Oh," Oola stated, "The torture chamber section. This is always fascinating."
Torture chamber? I suppose. A treadmill. Some weight machines. Exercise tights. Hand weights.
"I have to ask, Oola," I began to say, "How come everyone here walks around naked?"
Oola looked back at me, replying, "Naked? Why would I want to wear a costume all day long?" OK, maybe I shouldn't have been wearing clothes painted to look like a child's onesie while I asked that. "Re-enactors wear costumes," Oola continued, "And they only wear them because they're trained to wear them."
"That reminds me," Oola said, "Who bred you, anyway? I mean, I understand the whole legacy angle..."
"Whoa," I interrupted, "What's 'legacy'? What does that mean?"
"Legacy?" She replied, "Look at you - You were bred to look like what the Zokopers think humans looked like."
"And then that would make you...?" I began to ask, only to have my sentence completed by Oola.
"I'm a designer breed," Oola stated matter-of-factly, "No restrictions as you can probably tell."
"Um, yeah," I meekly replied.
"Why are you here, then?" I asked, "If this place is meant for legacy breeds and you're a designer breed..."
"Let's go," she abruptly stated, beginning to walk off quickly.
'Smooth move,' I reminded myself, 'You still have the touch.'
She was a foot taller than myself. I briefly struggled to keep up as we moved on through the museum.
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Post by crf78112 on Oct 20, 2012 20:30:34 GMT -6
addicting
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Post by steve on Oct 21, 2012 10:58:15 GMT -6
PART #0071
Oola suddenly stopped walking while we were in the museum, so suddenly that I almost walked past her.
"OK, look," she admitted tersely, "I have no idea why I am here in this re-enactment, OK? I mean, I know why but it is very embarrassing to talk about."
"This entire facility," I replied, "It's called a 're-enactment'?"
Oola sighed in frustration, than stated, "Look at me. Do you notice anything different?"
Awkward silent moment.
"Anything that the other designer breeds have that I do not?" Oola added.
Another awkward silent moment. Oh, really? And how would you have handled this moment?
"Why don't you explain to me," I began to say slowly, "How you would like your body to look?"
"I was supposed to have six breasts, not four!" She blurted out in complete frustration before trying (and failing miserably) to calm down. Hey, look - She said it, not me. Take it up with her.
"And this is bad because...?" I began to ask, hoping that she would complete the sentence. Thankfully, she did.
"What do you think?! There is no competition category for a four-breasted designer breed, only two, three and six!" She tersely stated matter-of-factly.
"Right," I meekly replied, now trying very hard to stare only at her face, "And this competition is called...?"
Now it was her turn to stare at me awkwardly for a moment before speaking.
"You do not know about the Zokoper Human Competition?" She asked, her facial expression slowly changing from quizzical to disgusted.
"Educate me," I replied, "This competition seems to be really important to you."
"To me?" She asked, almost rhetorically, "To... To everyone! To us! Even to the Zokopers!"
Her tone quieted down somewhat as she continued, "All of the breeders have to submit humans to the competition, it is required. You are not bred for the competition?"
So many questions without answers. So many answers to questions I really didn't need to know. If there was a silver lining in any of this, it was the fact that it was distracting me from the cold, cruel reality that the Earth I had lived on had been devastated and the Earth I was now living in was very, very different.
"I wasn't bred," I began to say slowly, "I was born."
She looked at me indifferently, "I do not understand. Do you know who your breeder is?"
"I didn't have a breeder," I said, "I had a set of parents. I was born just like all the other humans that were born before me."
She stared at me blankly for a moment. She wasn't understanding.
"I wasn't bred by a Zokoper. I was born before the Zokopers came to Earth... Before the ray or laser or whatever it was hit Earth," I stated.
Oola was quiet for a minute, then said, "I have to go."
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Post by steve on Oct 22, 2012 18:32:38 GMT -6
PART #0072
Oola can run. Don't believe me? She's about a foot taller than me and probably more fit as well. She's running, I'm hauling. I'm a few paces shy of going into an all out sprint.
"Hey!" I called out, "Wait up! Wait up!"
I'll admit it - If she hadn't slowed down and stopped when she did, I would've lost her. Oh, yeah... Like there aren't women who can't whip your butt at running? Try watching a little sporting event called 'the Olympics' at some point in your life. You'd be amazed.
"You can not tell the Zokopers what you have told me," she quietly but forcefully stated to me, "They will brain wipe you immediately!"
"Hey, hey," I replied, "Why did you run off like that? What's brain wiping?"
"You did not tell me what you told me in the museum," she continued, "You will never repeat that to anyone ever again."
"Can you," I began to say, still trying to catch my breath, "Can you just tell me why you ran?"
Just like that, I saw the holographic head in front of me. Oh, great.
"You very running were fast," the head commented, "Why you chasing were her?"
I looked over at Oola. It didn't appear that she was being distracted by her own holographic head.
"I to wanted how see Oola could fast run," I replied, finally able to catch my breath, "She very run can fast."
"Ahhhh," the holographic head stated, changing into a more neutral shape and looking at the both of us. I noticed that Oola could now see it.
"Exercise to limited is the training room," the head stated, then looking over at Oola and firmly adding, "Oola known have should that."
"It a fair was race," Oola commented, "It not was to cause anyone meant harm."
The holographic head sighed deeply, slightly shaking it's head back and forth for a moment before saying, "Oola, show where please him room exercise the is. The you two of there play can you if want. The is re-enactment not playground a exercise or room. These valuable are reproductions."
"Yes, Zokoper," Oola meekly replied.
"Thank you," I stated.
The holographic head smiled and disappeared.
We were both silent for a moment, then Oola said, "The exercise room is over this way. Come on."
We both began walking together towards the exercise room. I couldn't help myself.
"You can run fast," I commented, looking over at her, "Can all of you guys run like that?"
"Wait until we get to the exercise room," she merely stated.
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Post by steve on Oct 23, 2012 18:47:16 GMT -6
PART #0073
I've probably gotten ahead of myself. It happens.
I've introduced a lot of places so far - The "re-enactment town," the museum, my bedroom with Oola, the rehearsal room... Where the heck are they all in relation to each other, right? Right.
Well, let me set you straight or, at least, as straight as I can make it.
First, I don't think we're outside. Look up at the "sky" in the re-enactment town and it's pretty convincing - Blue skies, clouds, it can get overcast... It all looks fairly real, right down to the slight breeze you feel.
Nope. All fake. All fake according to Oola. We're indoors, the whole thing - The town, the museum... Everything.
The "town" is at the center of this place, with everything else encircling it - The museum, the dormitories for those legacy breed humanoid thingies, all of it.
I write all of this because, I guess, the "town" is treated like that really elaborate train set that your neighbor sets up in their basement and you look at every now and then just to be polite. Look, don't touch and, if possible, don't breathe on it, either. That's why I got talked to by the floating head, because just as there's no horseplay around the pool, there's no horseplay in the "town" either.
So, this exercise room... I bet you're thinking barbells, a few exercise machines, some tunes... You know, a weight room. Of course not. Hey, has anything been normal since I've gotten here?
That's me staring at some solid grayish goop. Think of a rectangular bathtub filled with a thick, gray goop filled right to the rim. Wow.
"That's how you exercise?" I asked, looking at the rectangular bathtub filled with gray goo.
"All you do is climb into it, fully immerse yourself until it turns clear. That is it," she stated, adding, "I go in once a day."
"Naked?" I asked, "Like a bath?"
"What is a bath?" She asked.
I was going to elaborate but decided against it.
"Nevermind," I replied.
"Here," she said, "Let me show you."
Like I've written before, everything here is designed for people who are at least six and a half feet tall and, most likely, taller. What's a little big for Oola is more then oversized for myself. Oola climbed into the tub and the goo just sort of began to cling to her before she went completely under, almost as though she had been 'swallowed' by the goo.
After a moment, I began seeing a lighter gray silhouette emerge in the shape of Oola. The silhouette grew more orange in nature until I could see the general contours of her figure. The entire pool never became clear, just the immediate area around Oola. Finally, she lifted herself back up to a standing position, not a single drop of gray goo on her. Just as quickly as she had entered the tub, she got out of it.
"See?" She stated, turning towards me to witness the slightly puzzled, somewhat troubled look on my face, "Nothing to it. Now you try it."
Uh-huh.
"Oh," she added, "You should take your costume off first, though."
Naturally.
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