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Post by steve on Nov 12, 2012 19:19:14 GMT -6
PART #0090
How could I sleep in these conditions? Could I sleep?
"Oola," I asked, as I adjusted being inside that weird 'energy' bed, "How come you can talk and those re-enactors can't really talk? What gives?"
"They are legacy breeds," Oola replied, "They are not bred to be intelligent, just to look and act like genuine humans. They are trained to talk but never learned independent speech."
"No offense," I replied, "But do you guys have even one single picture of what a genuine human looks like? I mean... They don't exactly look like genuine humans."
"According to you?" Oola asked, somewhat sleepily as she adjusted herself in her own energy bed.
"You know, I have to ask..." I began to say, "Are you happy here?"
Oola turned over to look at me, "What do you mean?"
"Are you happy here? Are your days filled with adventure and discovery? Are you... Intellectually stimulated? Emotionally satisfied...? Entertained?" I asked.
"I am not dead," Oola replied, a bit sleepily and with a sigh, "I am a mistake. I was not created well. I am fortunate that I have been kept even though I will never compete in any competition."
"No, seriously," I debated, trying to 'sit up' on a bed that seemingly existed and not exist at the same time, "What do you do for fun here? Do you have any friends? Do you watch... Television? Listen to music? Play a sport?"
Oola sighed and sat up in bed, turning towards me.
"Are these more of your implanted memories?" She asked.
"Can you at least give me the benefit of the doubt?" I retorted, "Aren't you the least bit curious that maybe I'm telling the truth about who I am?"
"A genuine human would have died long ago," Oola stated, lying back down in bed, "I do not need the Zokopers to know that. You are a strange legacy breed. Much smaller than normal. Not as hairy. Too talkative. Maybe that is why you were abandoned."
"Tomorrow," I stated, "I am going to prove that I come from Earth before this disaster."
"And how will you do that?" A very sleepy Oola mumbled, the slightest hint of a smirk creeping onto her face, "More wild claims that can not be substantiated?"
"The Zokopers know what they have made and what they haven't, right? So anything sophisticated that they haven't made has to be genuine? Their words," I stated.
"Of course," Oola replied, now completely sunken into her energy bed, her words almost wistful.
"So, all I need to produce is one object that connects me with the past before the disaster to prove that I lived in the past," I reasoned.
"Go to bed," Oola mildly protested in a sleepy groan, "Before the Zokopers use the knock-out tone."
"The what?" I asked.
"They use it for the re-enactors," Oola groggily explained, "To make them automatically fall to sleep."
Tomorrow, I was determined to prove to the Zokopers that I was a genuine human. I adjusted myself and attempted to fall asleep.
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Post by steve on Nov 12, 2012 19:41:43 GMT -6
Hi. I'd like to thank everyone so far who have made comments on the story. I thank you for reading it so far & I hope that you have enjoyed it. Your comments and readership help motivate me towards working on this story.
Here is some useless trivia that you might find useless -
* The "Zokopers," as they are now known, went through a lot of design changes. At one point, they were going to be balls of light energy that changed colors (like a mood ring). They were also going to speak normally but had a lot of elitist snark to them.
* At one point, Oola was going to have an alpha male "designer breed" character that our protagonist was going to have to prove himself against. This was dropped for many reasons, some of which I won't go into at this time.
* The legacy breed "re-enactor" roles were greatly reduced from what they were originally envisioned in earlier drafts. The re-enactors were, at one point, going to be comedic relief back when various versions of the draft were weighted far more heavily on comedy. As the story changed thematically, their presentation changed to match.
Finally, I'd like to dedicate this entire story to a family pet that passed away a while ago. It is never easy to write during times of emotional duress and I considered suspending the story briefly to accommodate that event but decided against it. To paraphrase what a radio personality once told me, "Always make every show your best show because, in the radio business, your last show could always be your last show."
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Post by steve on Nov 13, 2012 19:26:57 GMT -6
PART #0091
How do you shave in this world?
Seriously, that's a 'for-real' question. It wasn't a vanity issue - My "5 o'clock shadow" had gone past midnight and was quickly becoming a "3 AM black-out." How many 'toddlers' do you know who are growing a beard?
Oola, obviously, didn't know. She also didn't know much about beards, either.
"Is something wrong with you?" She asked.
"It's a beard," I replied, "All men grow them. Real men, that is."
"You are not allowed to grow a beard," Oola stated a little too firmly, "Jesus Christ had a beard and he was killed for it."
"Uh-huh," I responded slowly, jaw slightly agape. Ever wonder what it sounds like when the other shoe drops? Continue reading.
"After he was killed, he was resurrected and hid in the North Pole as Santa Claus in the Fortress of Solitude," Oola concluded with far too much scholarly confidence.
Did you get all of that?
After the bizarro-universe history lesson from Oola, I found out through the Zokopers what the equivalent of shaving resembled here in the wacky future. It resembled a pen light and you pressed the lit end up to your face where you didn't want the hair to grow anymore. Neither hot nor cold nor painful to the touch, the device instantly vaporized the hair and left skin undamaged. Go ahead, press it against your teeth. I dare you. Did anything happen? Of course not. Fingernails? Nothing. It only works on hair. Go figure. If I could figure out how this was made, I could be a billionaire back in the real world.
It was a new day and before I could pursue my plan to convince the Zokopers that I was a genuine human (the beard gave them an idea to cast me as Santa Claus in their upcoming rendition of a typical Thanksgiving dinner... Don't ask), I had to go through more rehearsals. More running around. More scripted whining and standing in a corner and pretending to cry. If it looks humiliating, that's because it is but it's also more then a bit frightening. I mean, look who I'm acting with - Giants. Freakin' giants. Each one has to be at least eight feet tall and weigh as much as two soda machines combined.
I'm sad to report that I'm getting quite good at acting like a whiny, bratty toddler. I was told that I was a fairly quick study and I found myself reciting a lot of the lines from memory. Not that the role was very demanding... I'm playing a freakin' toddler. You could write all of my lines on one side of an index card.
Rehearsals ended and the humanoid giants went from reasonable articulated speech back to their mute, ape-like selves as they shuffled out of the 'town.'
As for myself, I took a dip in that creepy goo that, I swear, has a mind of it's own and crawls onto you. OK... I have to confess - I'm getting used to the goo or, at least, the effects that the goo has. I mean, the stuff won't turn you into a superhero overnight but I swear I feel a bit more spry already after only a couple of dips. Give me a year with that stuff and you'll see me rip phone books in half.
After a quick meal, it was time for me to see if my theory was correct.
It was time for me to see if I could convince the Zokopers that I was a real human.
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Post by kaijafon on Nov 13, 2012 21:57:13 GMT -6
all this makes me wonder what things WE have attributed to "whatever" for past civilizations. LOL! thank you
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Post by steve on Nov 14, 2012 19:43:40 GMT -6
PART #0092
I watched the "film" of my memories again inside my bedroom.
I watched waking up in the gel chamber. Splishing around naked in the ankle-deep water. Saw the grotesquely long fingernails.
Who can forget the "toilet paper" torch or the "laboratory sink" fireplace? Not I.
Remember the two dead bodies in those other gel chambers? So crystal clear you can practically smell the decaying and putrid flesh.
I wasn't interested in a lot of the memories, though - I had already lived them. I knew how all that ended.
I was interested in one moment in particular.
I was interested in where I found my clothes... My stuff.
I watched my memories along with one of the holographic heads. Apparently, you can't just call up your memories whenever you want to - The Zokopers have to do that for you and privacy seems to be at a premium in the far-flung future.
My memories were played back with absolute clarity - There I was, searching through the lockers. I found everyone else's stuff except for mine. Then, I found my stuff.
At the time, I was only interested in my clothes. As it turned out, eight centuries is a long time to expect a shirt and pants to remain a shirt and pants before successive centuries rot and deteriorate them into worthless rags. My memories showed that clearly.
However, it was the one moment during that time of discovering that my clothes were worthless that I was trying to search for.
There it was. That moment.
"Stop the tape," I stammered to the Zokoper's holographic head, pointing to the floating, ghostly screen.
The screen paused in crystal clarity. The picture, though, was almost of utter darkness. This moment in time was before I had invented the toilet paper torch.
"Can we brighten this picture?" I asked, turning to the holographic head before I realized to whom I was speaking. I corrected myself with, "Can brighten this we picture?"
"Attempting," the Zokoper softly replied. Like a miracle, the picture began to brighten a little but stopped far short of being fully lit.
"Your eyes," the holographic head admitted, "Can display only much so information. We reveal can not is information that not is to known us."
"That," I pointed, my finger jabbing slightly into the ether-like screen, "That my is wallet. I a have in card wallet my is that called driver's license. That prove will am I genuine a human."
"Fascinating," the holographic head replied, "We recover did not object such an that from building."
"What do you..." I began to say, catching myself, "What you do mean?"
The holographic face brightened slightly, smiling, "When recovered we you, we your examined memories. We route traced your the back to building you the that see. Fascinated the by discovery, we building took the for back examination."
"You did?" I asked bluntly, "You... You the have building? Here?"
"Yes," the holographic head replied, "We the have building... Here the in archives."
Of course. I had yesterday wandered through what had to have been the world's largest indoor area containing nothing but antiquated buildings. The Zokopers had such advanced technology that why wouldn't it have been possible for them to pull out an entire building with ease and transplant it wherever they chose in a matter or days or, for that matter, hours?
I began to run towards the archives.
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Post by steve on Nov 15, 2012 16:52:14 GMT -6
PART #0093
The place was huge, made all the more vast by the fact that it was also poorly lit. In certain spots, the archives looked as though it went on forever like a cheesy movie matte painting.
Part of the weirdness of the archives is the fact that a lot of the buildings are placed in the archives with their basements. It's like uprooting a fence post - The fence post looks taller because you're seeing the whole fence post, not just the part that sticks up above the ground. Front doors to many of the buildings were fifteen to twenty feet in the air.
I was going to need some help.
Oola, fortunately, was nearby to help.
"Oh," she stated, "Your building? That is in the new section. It is going to take us a while to walk over to it from here."
"Can we teleport there?" I asked, not even realizing I had just asked that question with complete seriousness.
"Teleportation is not really used like that," Oola replied, "They explained it to me once. It is kind of complicated."
In this far-flung future, no one thought to place a golf cart inside the world's largest collection of buildings inside the world's largest building. Or a bicycle. I'd have accepted a skateboard or even a...
"Hey," I asked as we began to walk, "Have you guys collected a rollerskating rink amongst all of these buildings?"
"A...?" Oola began to ask slowly, confused.
"A place that has roller skates," I began to explain, perhaps a bit too impatiently, "Shoes with wheels at the bottom of them."
"Oh!" She replied, "I have heard of those. Why do you ask?"
"I figure that a pair of those would really cut down on the time it took to travel there," I explained.
"You can not wear those," Oola stated, "Only criminals wore those as punishment for their crimes."
I thought about it but I wasn't about to debate the point with someone who told me earlier that Santa Claus lived in the Fortress of Solitude.
"We're going to use them for another purpose," I explained, "After all, there are no more criminals. Just us."
I could see the indecision on Oola's face for a moment before she turned back to me.
"Wearing them will not turn me into a criminal?" She asked hesitantly.
"Absolutely not," I replied quickly.
"Oh, OK," Oola answered, "One of them is right over here."
'Right over here' was a relative term. It translated into about fifteen minutes of walking. During that time, I explained to Oola why I was interested in going to the building where I had originated from, the building with the gel chambers.
"A what license?" Oola asked again.
"A driver's license," I repeated.
"Are you telling me that you needed permission to own a set of golf clubs back then?" Oola asked with naive exasperation, "Just how dangerous was that sport?"
"It depends on which direction the ball was flying," I deadpanned, looking through the buildings in an attempt to find the rollerskating rink.
"Say," I asked, "Do you know if these roller skates are going to be in good condition?"
"I do not know," Oola admitted, "But I know that the rollerskating rink is somewhere close by..."
"There it is!" Oola exclaimed, pointing suddenly ahead of us. As she had demonstrated before, her running speed far outmatched my own and she reached the building far ahead of myself.
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Post by steve on Nov 16, 2012 19:18:29 GMT -6
PART #0094
I couldn't believe it. Then again, life was full of crazy coincidences. Why should the far-flung future have been any different?
There it was before me... The Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park. Or, more accurately, 'Rollerskate Party Center.' Dirty. Rundown. Almost ghostly.
All of the other buildings... Their condition was relative. I had no attachment to those buildings, I had no idea how those buildings looked "before."
I had worked six years at The Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park. Even when it had manhandled into becoming the Rollerskate Party Center, it had looked... Clean. Inhabitable.
The front doors had been removed. Most of the roof was missing as well. The building didn't have a cellar so it sat relatively normal with only an abnormally high foot or so to step up into. Oola saw the hesitation in my stance as I looked at the building.
Let's get something straight - The Rollerskate Parks of America company, the people who had taken over my former place of employment... I had no love for them. Those people ran their rollerskate rinks like prisons. If a problem cost ten dollars to solve, they gave you forty cents and not a penny more.
No one, though, deserved this. No building... It was like looking at your favorite pet, except now it was dead and the worst taxidermy job in the world had been performed on it. I felt the slightest tinge of anger sweep over me momentarily.
"Is something wrong?" Oola asked. Her voice shook me back into reality.
"No," I replied, remembering why we were here in the first place, "Let's go in."
"I am not a criminal," Oola repeated softly as I stepped up into the building. Instinctively, I turned back to Oola to offer her a hand up only to realize that, for the first time, we were at eye-level with each other.
"Those are some sharp looking eyes you've got," I blurted out, not even realizing it. They were... Just look at them. I mean... They were like a sharp green color. Not a lime green, not a florescent green... Just a very clear, very sharp green color.
"Oh," Oola replied, pausing, "Um, thanks."
Yeah, I know... Awkward pause. Hey, can you really blame me for saying that? It was the first time I hadn't needed to look up at her to actually look at her, you know?
Oola didn't need help to step up into the building. She was, after all, a foot or so taller then me. What had been a slight challenge to me wasn't even worth mentioning to her. Probably the largest challenge was leaning forward to avoid bumping her head on the doorway. The challenges of height.
The lack of a roof made viewing inside the building easier, as the dim lights from inside the archives shined down on the floor below. The entire building was cast in a series of eerie shadows that, had I not known the nature of the building, would have definitely cast a suspicious pall over it. Instead, it was like stumbling from the bedroom to the bathroom during the night.
"You say no one was tortured here?" Oola asked, looking around, "Are you sure?"
I had to refrain from quipping that only the employees were tortured by looking at their paychecks. I knew that Oola would take that phrase literally, though. It was best to keep to the task at hand.
It was time to find some roller skates.
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Post by kaijafon on Nov 16, 2012 20:47:07 GMT -6
LOL! a place of torture! I remember that LEARNING to skate WAS torture!!! But I seriously cannot remember transitioning from hugging the wall to whipping around corners.....
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Post by steve on Nov 17, 2012 14:27:06 GMT -6
PART #0095
The inside of the building was just light enough not to be pitch black and just dark enough to obscure all the important features needed to identify objects.
That's where six years of day-to-day full-time employment experience kicked in. Someone could shake me awake at 3 AM and I'd be able to open this place up without a hitch. Even in the relative darkness, I knew my way around the place well enough to not knock into everything like I was Helen Keller. Oola wasn't as lucky.
"Just stay there," I told Oola, "I know where the roller skates are."
Despite my expertise in knowing the layout of the building, a flashlight would have been really, really handy.
"Have you ever rollerskated before?" I asked from behind the rollerskate rental counter. DAMN! I didn't even realize I said that until I said it. Some habits don't die hard, they just don't die, period. 'Hey, dumba**,' my conscience snarked at me, 'Why not just ask her for her shoe size while you're at it? Maybe her phone number and tell her when the free instructional course of the day is as well?'
"No," Oola replied, "I have never been punished like that before."
"Oola," I said, walking back towards her, "Rollerskating isn't a form of punishment. It is a skill and people who are good at that skill gain pleasure from performing that activity."
"Then how do you account for parents of small children taking their children to this... This arena and forcing them to perform races on these unstable shoes where they knock into each other at high speeds, falling down on a hard floor and hurting themselves?" Oola demanded with a bit of harshness in her tone.
"Oola," I began to say calmly, "You are confusing roller skating with a sport called 'Roller Derby.' Roller Derby is a sport involving adults on roller skates, the purpose of which is to win a race by knocking over opponents. Roller Derby, like all other sports, is as dangerous as you make it but it is not forced on anyone."
"Were these 'roller derbies' conducted here?" Oola asked cautiously.
"No," I calmly replied, "Roller Derbies are performed on roller skating rinks that are curved upwards at the outer ends of the rink so that the participants can obtain greater amounts of speed. Normal roller skating rinks, like this one, are flat."
"Are these roller derbies related to Derby hats?" Oola asked.
I opened my mouth to reply but thought better of it.
"Let me go check and see if there are any roller skates around," I plainly replied. Maybe just walking to that other building, I began to think, would have been a better idea.
I was surprised to see so many pairs of roller skates in the back of the check-out counter, still in their cubby holes. Some had deteriorated beyond repair but quite a few were sturdy with wheels that turned with surprising ease.
"Just out of curiosity," I called out as I fumbled my way towards grabbing a pair of roller skates in my size, "What size are your feet? Maybe there's..."
I looked behind me to see that Oola had slowly walked her way onto the rollerskating rink, the same way that someone walked through a minefield. It was at that moment that I knew how much I had missed working at the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park. Everything at that moment just felt so... So normal. So ordinary.
I wasn't a night store clerk. I wasn't an actor in some weird, far-flung future re-enactment of the past.
For the briefest of moments, I was an employee of the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park again. And even though I'm extraordinarily ashamed to admit it - It felt awesome.
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Post by kaijafon on Nov 17, 2012 15:53:58 GMT -6
I'm beginning to think Oola on skates would actually slow him down even more than with him just walking. Him on skates and her "walking/running" ...they just might be at the same speed. LOL!
Thank you!
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Post by steve on Nov 18, 2012 9:33:41 GMT -6
PART #0096
The track needed a serious sweeping. If only the shift supervisors could see the place now, their heads would explode. It was worse then when we threw the weekend parties. Heck, it was bad even by Rollerskate Parks of America's standards - And that's telling you something.
In hindsight, I guess that I shouldn't have been surprised that the skates were still fairly solid (right down to the laces which felt as strong as the day they left the factory) - Unlike the basement where the gel chambers were, the skates had been kept in a relatively well-protected environment. I guess that it's sort of like what they say about storing cars out in the Southwest, that the dry environment helps keep the cars from decaying.
Oola was both fascinated and cautious of the skates. She kept a wide berth around me at all times as I tried the skates out for a few loops around the rink. The miscellaneous minute debris on the rink was more of an annoyance then a hazard, making a lot of "krinch-skrinching" sounds as I rolled around.
Like riding a bicycle, baby... Like riding a bicycle.
You know what? I'm not ashamed to say that I had some competent skating skills. I worked at a rollerskating rink for six years so, yeah, I was going to pick up on how you rollerskate without looking like a complete fool.
OK, the debris on the rink did make a few of the faster turns a little hairy but nothing suspenseful. Stopping was adequate so long as I wasn't attempting to break a land speed record.
Yeah, I did showboat a little in front of Oola just as I got off the rink. Hey - She's the one that hasn't worn a shred of clothing since I first saw her (and, trust me, the 14-year old inside of me wasn't minding that part at all). She flaunts her stuff and I get to flaunt mine.
"So," I said, rolling off of the rink and stopping, "Let's see that building I came out of."
"May I...," Oola began to say, "May I try that after we are done with the building?"
"Sure," I stated, "as long as there's a pair of skates that fit you, I don't see why not. Let me check out the size of your feet and I'll see if there are any skates in the back that might fit."
Oola has big feet. I mean, I should've known - Just look at her. She's as tall as a basketball player but doesn't have that artificially-lean build like one. It's like someone scaled-up a normal human being instead of just increasing the height alone.
"Oola," I remarked with a little too much joviality, "You have the biggest feet I have ever seen on a woman."
I quickly looked at her and added, "That's not a bad thing."
And you wonder why there's no ring on these fingers. Now you know.
"I'll check in the back, give me a moment," I stated rolling behind the check-out counter and towards the cubby holes.
Bless the RPA - If they didn't have to change or alter something from when they took over the place, they didn't and that was a great thing as it meant that our cubby hole system of storing roller skates went unchanged.
I grabbed the largest skates there were and rolled back out from behind the check-out counter.
One of the holographic heads was there to greet me.
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Post by nancy1340 on Nov 18, 2012 11:09:58 GMT -6
Rut Row! LOL
Thanks
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Post by patience on Nov 18, 2012 19:34:00 GMT -6
Maybe he can get one of those holographic heads out there on the rink and show him a thing or two.... They'll prob'ly think he is about to torture Oola, though. Got some 'splainin' to do, I'm thinking. How could he work this to force those holographic idjits into understanding that he is truly human? And, somehow, the boy needs to get a better relationship going with this girl. She seems like an all right sort, even if she is a LITTLE different. Okay. It's so obvious I thunked myself in the head. Oola needs to have a real romance.
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Post by steve on Nov 19, 2012 16:05:54 GMT -6
PART #0097
I suppose the silver lining in all of this is that I don't have to act like a toddler anymore.
So, why am I standing in the middle of a very empty, very large room with no clothes on?
Let me explain.
They found my wallet in the building I woke up from. You know, the one with the gel chambers. That one.
They opened up the wallet. They found my driver's license.
OK, so the driver's license wasn't in pristine condition. It was slightly wet. It was somewhat moldy. It wasn't my best smile when the picture was taken (Can anyone ever be completely serious when the photographer is the Department of Motor Vehicles?).
The picture was completely legible. So, too, were my fingerprints on the driver's license and therein lies 'the rub' - How do you explain fingerprints on an object that I've supposedly never touched before? How do you explain an object that they didn't create, that identifies me, with my fingerprints on it?
"Are a you clone?" The Zokopers asked. The holographic head that was actually a presentation of my own head was now a light gray, generic head. Bald, sharp-pointed nose, slightly gaunt face... Not someone who would normally be named "Mr. Friendly."
"I genuine am a human," I replied, slightly tired and more than a little frightened. Other holographic heads popped in and out, mostly of the same gray color but some with darker shades of red and green.
"Created by the Qintoshij, was he," I heard a voice cry out.
"Poor construction," cried another, "Qintoshij never would such create poor a human."
"Hey," I replied, "I heard that." Not like that made a bit of difference. It felt like I was that little kid that parents talk about right in front of them because they think we're too stupid to understand what they're talking about. Tip to parents: We're smarter then you think.
"Destruction be would best," another head suggested, "He contaminated has town the his with presence."
"Don't I get a lawyer or something?" I asked over the chatter of the other voices before sighing and repeating, "Don't get I lawyer or a something?"
"Explain yourself," an ominous, booming voice spoke, silencing all the other voices momentarily.
"I'm a human!" I nearly shouted, "A real human! I'm not a feral, a re-enactor... I'm not a legacy breed... I was born on Earth. I was raised on Earth. I wasn't created or hatched."
Silence. Rather awkward silence at that.
"I worked at the Rock and Rolling Rollerskate Park for six years. Webbler's for about one," I continued, "I took part in an experiment that... I don't know... Caused me to fall asleep for eight hundred years. Now here I am."
More silence. More light gray holographic heads staring at me.
"I don't know why you can't see those memories. Look, if you don't believe me, check out the machinery in the basement of that building. You're some sort of... Advanced aliens, you should be able to make it work again. That'll prove once and for all that I'm a real human... That machine caused me to sleep for eight hundred years," I concluded.
Right, like you could do better?
Unfortunately, I didn't do as well as I had thought.
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Post by steve on Nov 20, 2012 19:06:41 GMT -6
PART #0098
Bad? Meet Worse. Worse? Say goodbye to Bad.
Where am I? Well, I'm still without any clothes. Go ahead, stare all you want. Need a microscope? I know - Ha ha. That joke really killed back when I was thirteen years old.
The floor is ice cold but the temperature is warm enough not to get goose pimples. The walls are some sort of textured gray pattern - It looks like stone, feels like a solid plastic and has a sort of non-slip surface to it that makes it hard to slide your hand across it (not that you'd want to).
I can only guess that I was back in some sort of holding cell of one type or another. The ceiling was high enough for someone really tall and the room was large enough for one of those humanoid re-enactors to lounge around in without bumping their shoulders or head into anything without trying really hard.
Bed? Not one of those weird-ish energy ones but some sort of solid squishy foam type. The object was a rounded rectangular mass, slightly concave in the center. Getting onto the bed wasn't too hard but, like a water bed, getting off of it took some effort. There was a "squishiness" to the center of the bed that hampered any effort of merely rolling or springing off of it.
There was a wall at the front of the room that I could only surmise was some sort of door. The wall was light blue and very transparent. It was definitely solid and you could rap your knuckles on it and hear a "tap tap" sound in return. Who wants to make a bet that this "transparent wall" could take a direct hit from a missile and not get damaged?
Was there a toilet or a shower or... Anything? Not that I could tell. A room. A bed. And that clear blue wall at the front of the room. Even prisoners back in the real world had a toilet.
How the heck did I get here? Who knows. They must have zapped me here the same way they zapped me from that tower I had once walked to into that "town" or whatever... That play set that the Zokopers pretended to be real life.
"Hey," I called out, "Is there anyone out there?"
Silence.
"I'm awake now," I continued, "I don't see why we need to go through all of this."
THUD! One of the side walls shook slightly and I instinctively stepped back from the wall. Something had smacked the wall on the other side of me with significant force. I heard two more lesser thumps and what might have been groaning or growling or... Something.
Then silence.
I tapped the top of my chest three times quickly and said, "Zekopor appear."
Nothing.
Great. What now?
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Post by steve on Nov 21, 2012 19:16:18 GMT -6
PART #0099
What the heck was that thing that just 'walked' in front of my holding cell?
It was huge. Had four arms and two legs. Three eyes. Vaguely humanoid but... How could you tell if it was or not? The light blue transparent wall in front of me obscured the creature's true color... Maybe it was blue?
And it wasn't walking. It looked more like it was being dragged. It had that sort of desperate gait to it, like it was trying to keep it's balance.
In a world of strange humanoid creatures, my ability at being shocked and surprised had diminished. Instead of running to the opposite side of the holding cell, I ran towards the blue transparent wall to get a fleeting glimpse of the large creature walking awkwardly and quickly past.
It was at the last possible moment before the creature vanished from view that I saw an odd feature - Some sort of hazy ring around the creature's thick, muscular neck. A collar of some type? A collar with no leash? In this world, anything was possible.
And then, the creature was gone. And then, all was quiet again.
After a few moments, I tried again to bring up the Zekopors. Again, no holographic heads appeared.
"Is there anyone out there?" I shouted out, "Anyone?"
With no clock, minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days. Idle hands compelled me to lift the foam bed-like object up to see if anything was underneath. Oddly enough, the same concave shape on top also appeared on the bottom. The bed-like object, it turned out, could be flipped over and look like it was right-side up. Interesting.
It was a while before I realized that the blue transparent wall was emitting the faintest amount of white light - Not enough to cause shadows but enough to tell when you blocked the light with the bed.
And the boredom continued.
The bed wasn't heavy enough to perform exercises with it - It was more awkward then heavy to lift and reposition.
And the boredom continued.
After what felt like hours, I suddenly felt something fuzzy and warm around my neck with the sound of a loud mosquito. A red, transparent, 'energy collar' had appeared around my neck. Whatever it was, I couldn't move out of it despite my hands going completely through the collar.
Just then, I noticed that the transparent blue wall had disappeared.
It was now, apparently, my turn.
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Post by kaijafon on Nov 21, 2012 22:53:11 GMT -6
OH NOOOOOOO!!!! now he will see why the "other one" looked like he was dragged! I hope it is not to the "incinerator"!!!!
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Post by steve on Nov 22, 2012 8:58:40 GMT -6
PART #0100
Damn it, this thing was annoying.
The object, entity, energy ring or whatever the heck it was around my neck didn't restrict my breathing but did restrict my movement. Quite frankly, where it went, I went and the human body doesn't cope well when the neck is one place and there isn't the body underneath to support it.
Oh, you think grabbing at it will help? Go ahead, give it a try. Go on. I'm watching. You can't grab it, can you? It's some sort of stupid energy band. Your hand goes right through it but your neck, obviously, can't. Figure that one out.
The other problem is that this energy band thinks that I have the walking pace of a ten-speed bicycle. See that? I'm practically jogging to keep up with this stupid band so I don't wind up choking myself to death.
I 'jogged' past about ten or so cells, each catching the faintest glimpse into each. If I had thought the ferals, the re-enactors and Oola were the oddest deformations there were of a post-disaster Earth, I was rudely mistaken. Were some of these things even humans at all? They couldn't be. They shouldn't be. What was I in? Some intergalactic prison? OK, a few of the creatures I had passed by resembled humanoids but others were just... Not recognizable. At least, not to me. Not in the moment I had to look at each one.
Where was I? I had no idea. Another long, wide & tall hallway, probably meant to accommodate who knows what kind of alien life or weirdo "designer breed" human. Without the distraction of trying to look inside of other cells (what else could I describe them as? They weren't hotel suites), I was able to better move with the energy band and not feel as though I was choking every other moment.
Around another corner, I was compelled to move through some sort of transparent but "wavy" field. You know when you're driving on a hot day and the road ahead of you 'shimmers'? Yeah, like that only the entire view was like that. It was transparent but shimmery. I had no choice but to be pulled through the field by the energy band. The inside of the field didn't smell. It made no sound. There was no temperature or humidity difference.
I was stopped shortly after passing through the field. What could only be described as lasers, arranged in a plane as opposed to a cylindrical beam, passed over me without any sort of effect.
"Can anyone tell me what's going on?" I asked. Nothing. Of course.
After the beams passed over me, I was led back to my cell the way I had arrived. The energy band led me to the center of my cell and then faded. The sudden release of the energy band caused me to collapse to the ground, as I wasn't prepared for the release.
As I got back up off of the ground, I noticed that the transparent blue wall had reappeared.
And just like that, everything was back to normal. Or, at the very least, quiet.
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Post by steve on Nov 23, 2012 18:41:31 GMT -6
PART #0101
Silence. Long periods of silence punctuated by watching the humanoid creatures being dragged back and forth in front of my cell by that red energy neck ring.
I was surprised that I did not feel hungry or thirsty or feel the need to defecate in any way. Perhaps that was what that wavy field that I had been dragged through was for; A type of one-stop shower / toilet / exercise / dinner utility. Or maybe not. Who knew?
I began giving names to the humanoids that were being dragged past my cell.
"Goliath."
"Green guy."
"Great Ape."
"Four eye."
"Spider thing."
None of them seemed to have any curiosity about me. Not even a passing interest. They were all too intent on giving token resistance to the red energy neck ring that yanked them this way and that down the hall.
With little else to do, I occupied myself with the most trivial of activities. I performed push-ups and sit-ups. Bench-pressing the oval "bed" wasn't much of a challenge so I preoccupied myself with throwing the bed up as high as I could. Despite my best efforts I couldn't hit the ceiling with the bed.
I learned, much to my surprise, that the bed was destructible. During my campaign to throw the bed towards the ceiling, I had accidentally torn the bed at one of it's edges. The tear was hardly a sizable gash; Barely noticeable unless one was intent on looking straight at it. What good, though, would tearing the bed apart do for me? Anything?
Sleeping on the bed, in the buff, was an exercise in futility. I may as well have been sleeping on a rock or on the floor. At some point, I fell asleep. At some point, I eventually awoke.
Not a moment after I awoke, the red energy ring appeared around my neck. I watched as the transparent blue wall at the front of my cell dematerialized.
I was ready to be taken on another walk.
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Post by steve on Nov 24, 2012 11:57:57 GMT -6
PART #0102
You get used to being 'collared,' as I've coined the term when the red energy neck ring appears around you.
You get used to it but that doesn't mean you like it.
The ring appears. The transparent blue wall disappears. You walk out of your cell, past a bunch of other cells, through the transparent wavy field, get scanned by the laser thingies and then walk back to your cell. The blue wall re-appears.
Wash. Rinse. Repeat.
By now, days have had to have passed by. How could they not but, then again, who knew for sure? There was no sky to look towards. No clock to look at. No way to really measure any amount of time.
The humanoids ('creatures' might be a more accurate term) weren't dragged in front of my cell in any given order. "Goliath" sometimes appeared after "Grape Ape" and vice versa. "Spider Thing" might appear once in every dozen or so sightings or might appear three times in a row. There was no rhyme or reason as to whom was selected or why. Maybe the lasers detected how hungry or thirsty you were. Maybe the lasers simply identified you. Maybe... Who knows. Who knew how this far-out world operated or why.
The wavy field and the lasers did not retard my beard or hair growth. If time could be measured, it could be measured by the growth of facial hair. Clean-shaven had turned to stubble had turned to the thinnest of beards. Would the lasers pick up on the beard growth? Would they even care?
With little else to do and little hope of a quick resolution to my current incarceration, it was time to see how attentive my new captors were.
It was time to test the limits of my incarceration.
It was time to plan for an escape.
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Post by steve on Nov 25, 2012 12:07:33 GMT -6
PART #0103
Can you imagine having your arm up against your neck the entire day? No? well, I did. All day.
That's what I did - I held my forearm up against my neck from the time that I woke up until the time that the red energy neck band thingy appeared. I had wanted to see if the ring would encircle just the neck or the neck and the forearm.
The result? It encircled both the neck and that part of the forearm. Interesting.
Or how about positioning that oval "bed" to see if the red energy neck band would avoid moving you through it? Answer - The ring is smart enough to avoid obstacles. No matter where I placed the bed, the ring always maneuvered me around the bed.
Could the ring find me if I hid under my bed? This experiment was a tough one to conduct because... Well, that is one mighty cold floor, especially to someone not very keen on being nude all of the time. Unfortunately, the answer to this experiment was... Yes, the red ring can find you no matter how thoroughly you cover yourself up with that bed.
How many days had passed already? Enough so that I now had a full-fledged beard. It wasn't a short beard - It was a beard, plain and simple. My hair had grown long - Not long enough to be mistaken for a woman but definitely shaggy enough for it to start descending down my back.
For a lack of any sort of time standard, I began to use the time interval for when I would be collared as one day. So, from the time I was collared to leave the cell to the time that I was collared the next time that I left my cell was one day. Much like using the interval for when the Earth made one full trip around the Sun.
Now, this next part is gross - At least, it's gross to me. Just remember that I had nothing to write with at the time. No pens, no pencils... Nothing that left a permanent mark. Maybe, if you're eating lunch or dinner or whatever, you might want to finish up and then fully digest before reading this next part. I'm just warning you.
OK, so, I wanted to see if there was any sort of pattern to when the other "inmates" (Hey, that's how I felt so I simply figured that's who we were) were being dragged in front of my cell. Before, I had just used a simple "Who's next being dragged in front of my cell?" count. Now, though, I was going to see if I could spot a pattern with the other inmates using my own time interval of being collared as a frame of reference.
So, how did I measure all of this activity with nothing to write with? Easy.
I used snot.
Told you that you should have finished eating first.
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Post by steve on Nov 26, 2012 19:15:09 GMT -6
PART #0104
There was a pattern to when we were being taken from our cells after all.
You're still hung up on the fact that I was using my own snot to figure this out, aren't you? Well, trust me - If I had the use of a pen or pencil instead, I would've kept my snot exactly where Mother Nature intended it. Desperate times, though, called for desperate measures.
I used the back wall as a sort of timeline, with the back corner starting with me being dragged out of my cell by that red energy collar. After I was returned, I would simply make note of all of the creatures (humanoids, whatever you want to call them) that would pass my cell. Different creatures got a certain pattern of snot formation. For instance, "Goliath" was two small snot balls in a line. "Four eyes" was four snot balls (Hey, it was easy to remember).
Staying awake wasn't exactly easy - That wavy field that they force you to walk through helps keep you from starving but it doesn't help keep you awake. How long did I stay awake consecutively? Who knows. Without a clock or other time device, it was all relative. It was probably close to two days, though. It felt like two days.
Finally, though, I was beginning to see a pattern emerge. Certain creatures were being dragged from their cells at regular intervals in relation to other creatures. The randomness I thought I had seen earlier was actually just part of a larger pattern when enough time had elapsed for observation. It was like looking at a few words of one sentence, then seeing the entire paragraph that those words were in.
With a pattern, I could begin planning on when I could escape. How long would I have before being collared? No longer did the sessions of having the red energy band appear seem random - As soon as I saw a certain sequence of creatures pass by my cell, I knew that I would be next.
What could I possible do, though, with that type of knowledge? Then I realized that there was one more experiment left to conduct...
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Post by kaijafon on Nov 26, 2012 22:42:28 GMT -6
AWESOME!!! Even if it is a tad bit gross!!! I'd probably do the same. Especially since one can't really "see" spit after it dries....
can't wait to see what his "last" experiment is!!! Thanks!!!!
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Post by patience on Nov 27, 2012 18:38:03 GMT -6
I am really anxious to see where this goes! I'm thinking that Oola may have something to do with getting him out of there.
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Post by steve on Nov 27, 2012 19:26:53 GMT -6
PART #0105
Another day. Another dragging.
I watched the others get dragged past my cell, one by one. Even though we were different - Some were tall, some short, some could barely call themselves "humanoid" (Never mind calling themselves "human"), I could tell which ones had their spirit broken or not.
I watched as some were walked while others were dragged. I watched as some looked new to being collared and some walked effortlessly with it on.
I watched as some would be dragged past my cell, eyes (or whatever passed as eyes) pleading to me as though I could somehow help them. I watched as some walked past my cell as though everything else around them were completely invisible.
This wasn't how people were supposed to live. This wasn't how people were supposed to be treated. No one deserved this type of treatment. No one.
As I watched each one get dragged past my cell, I pulled that oval concave slab that was supposed to be my bed over towards the transparent blue wall. I wanted that bed right next to me when I became collared.
Then the last being before it was my turn got dragged past my cell. I tensed up, making sure that I had firm grip on the bed.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Finally, I could feel the ring form around my neck. I gripped the bed tightly as I quickly dragged it across the plane where the transparent blue wall disappeared. What would happen? Would the wall slice the bed in half? Would the wall form around the bed? Would an alien appear out of nowhere to kick the bed back to allow the wall to form unabated? Would the wall simply not form at all?
The ring was unforgiving and I only had a moment to adjust the bed before being forced to comply with the ring's movements with getting me to walk on that designated route that I had walked before. I couldn't look behind me to see if anything had happened to the bed. I would have to wait until my walk was complete before I had learned if my experiment had been a success.
And if it had been successful... It might just be my means of escape.
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