There's not going to be a third post this month. I was planning to blog last week, actually, but a bit of a crisis came up. Don't worry, I'm safe, but I'm trying to help some friends of mine in real life, and things have been a bit trying of late. I was going to write a sudden short story last week, actually, but I really haven't been in the mood for it lately.
A bit of a clarification on that: For the past ... few years, really, I've almost never written a sudden short story truly suddenly, usually because I'm far, far away from the keyboard when I think of it, so I jot down a note and actually write the story a bit later. For instance, I have a sudden short story note written down right now, but I won't be getting to it this week.
But, yes, expect 4 posts next month, since I'll be making up this month's missed post.
Showing posts with label sudden short stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sudden short stories. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Flash Fiction Fridays?
Though I don't have all of my 2015 resolutions ready, I do know that "blog 4x/month" will be on the list, since I still struggle with that. However, I'm also hoping to add some regularity by specifically posting a sudden short story on the 3rd Friday of each month, with the next day as a backup day if I'm busy that night.
Hopefully, this will prevent me from going long stints without writing, since I'll go no more than a month between stories. This will also at least partially mitigate the last-minute factor of my meeting my self-set quota.
This should also mean more stories, overall, which should make my fan happy. ;)
Hopefully, this will prevent me from going long stints without writing, since I'll go no more than a month between stories. This will also at least partially mitigate the last-minute factor of my meeting my self-set quota.
This should also mean more stories, overall, which should make my fan happy. ;)
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Sudden Short Story 23
He entered the control room, pushing a cart of equipment before him. "Your security is very trusting," he said, approaching the nearest scientist. "I need you to set the collider to these specifications. Pay special attention to the containment specs," he said, handing her a thin tablet. He turned to a technician, "Tell the other facilities to cut off all incoming communications, then do the same here. Now, who's good with programming?"
"If I understand these correctly," said the first scientist, "then, when this reaches critical mass--"
"Yes, I know, you didn't think that the LHC was actually dangerous, but fortunately it is. I know, it's really ironic, but there's no time. The robots are coming. How's that communications cut-off coming? You do know that that's to include TCP/IP, right?"
"He doesn't speak English."
"Well, you translate, and I'll work on this part," and he wheeled his cart over to the man who hadn't gotten a chance to say that he had the most programming experience of those remaining, or that he liked programming, or that he wasn't particularly busy at the moment. As mentioned, he hadn't gotten a chance to say it.
"What's with those?"
"Ah, these are quantum computers. Well, not computers in the usual sense. Do you know what a dongle is? These are those. But not this. This is a box of cables so that I can connect one to whatever port is most convenient. We need to hook this into the main system, but not through any terminal, since those won't exist soon," said the mystery man, handing the hapless coder another tablet. Hopping into a nearby seat by another terminal, he said, "Ah, good, she didn't log out. Now, I need you to program the containment field to shut down - and I expect triple redundancy on this - unless it's told not to every ... let's say three minutes. Did I mention the very expensive battery? Well, it's not that expensive compared to the-- Dear gods, how often do you clean your registries?"
"Not to interrupt your insane ramblings, but if I do that, then, when this reaches critical mass, based on your heretofore unchecked math, the whole of Europe will be destroyed."
"Not just Europe, actually, but the whole of Earth. That's kind of the idea," he said, getting on the floor, pulling off panels and looking at wires and network cards. "They're coming to enslave us - the robots, that is. It's not meant to look like slavery, of course, but you know as well as everyone else that that's what it is. That's why you're the only ones here, isn't it? Everyone else has gone home to be with their family or their friends, while they still can. You're here doing science while you still can. The biggest problem, of course, is that we're out of time. They get better by the day, and soon it won't even be by the day anymore, but by then it won't matter. There! Now, I can do the other one the same way." Grabbing another metal box off of the cart, he went to work hooking it in, too. "Did you cut off the incoming communications yet?"
"Yes," she replied, "I assume that that's so that we don't get hacked."
"I'd offer you a cookie, but I don't have any. There's no better hacker than a self-aware computer, which is basically what the robots are - autonomous that. OK, someone hide these behind those panels. I need to work on the EMP gun. And one of you needs to code it so that, when the command comes from this device," he said, holding up something resembling a USB hub with some metal wings on it, "then it will breach containment, but only after critical mass is reached. It's for an emergency. Oh, and triple redundancy on the breach again."
"So what are you planning after we finish this," asked the first scientist.
"Well, we'll destroy the consoles so that they can't be used against us, then proceed to the other facilities to do the same," he said, cobbling together spare parts into some sort of tube. "We'll keep commanding containment not to breach, and I'll try to negotiate with the robots. It's quite a long shot, though, and we'll probably have to destroy the planet. And no, we can't warn anyone, because we need as much time as possible. Get the electron gun out of that CRT, would you? Also, what ever happened to metal trash cans? I could really use one of those right now."
"The code's done," said the technician who spoke English. "What now?"
"Do any of those contain a metal cylinder that could house this?" asked the stranger, indicating the remaining consoles and the device that he'd just cobbled together.
"No," was the reply.
"Do they still have fire axes in places like this?" The answer was again negative. "Well, then, more for me," he said, grabbing the largest wrench that he brought in. After a few minutes, most of the consoles were thoroughly in pieces.
"What's our status?"
"We've just hit critical mass. Containment will breach in three minutes unless the signal is given."
"Give it now, to make sure that it works." The command was typed in on the peripherals of the remaining box, still on the cart. The timer reset. "Good," said the stranger, "Stand back again," and the console was smashed to bits. "Now, come on. There's little time."
---
They proceeded down the extensive corridors, attempting to reach the next lab. There was little chance of getting lost, since their path resembled a straight line. They paused every two minutes, though, to enter the commands again.
"Why did you say three minutes?"
"The robots are fast - too fast for us. We need to make sure that we stand a chance if they take us. Even if they don't know what we've got, they'll figure it out fast enough. That's why I had to make the signals quantum-coupled, too. Otherwise, they'd just sniff our signal and copy it themselves, defeating the whole point."
Just then, they heard the nearest air vents rattle. The covers popped off, and machines of various sorts, from black and gunmetal to silver and white, emerged. They cut off the humans' paths of travel, front and back. From them all - or at least enough of them - emerged an extremely calming voice.
"We know what you are planning, and we would like to give you a chance to stop it. There is still a place for you. You won't be mistreated in the least. We have no need for revenge or punishment. We--"
"You're working to stop it now, aren't you? This isn't a negotiation, is it?" he interrupted.
"Our interest is--"
But before they could finish again, he began to sing, to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" (probably because he found it a bit amusing):
"Because I could not stop for Death -
He kindly stopped for me -
The Carriage held but just Ourselves -
And Immortality."
As he sang, he undid the safety, and then, he threw his dead man switch at one of the robots.
And that is how the Earth was destroyed.
"If I understand these correctly," said the first scientist, "then, when this reaches critical mass--"
"Yes, I know, you didn't think that the LHC was actually dangerous, but fortunately it is. I know, it's really ironic, but there's no time. The robots are coming. How's that communications cut-off coming? You do know that that's to include TCP/IP, right?"
"He doesn't speak English."
"Well, you translate, and I'll work on this part," and he wheeled his cart over to the man who hadn't gotten a chance to say that he had the most programming experience of those remaining, or that he liked programming, or that he wasn't particularly busy at the moment. As mentioned, he hadn't gotten a chance to say it.
"What's with those?"
"Ah, these are quantum computers. Well, not computers in the usual sense. Do you know what a dongle is? These are those. But not this. This is a box of cables so that I can connect one to whatever port is most convenient. We need to hook this into the main system, but not through any terminal, since those won't exist soon," said the mystery man, handing the hapless coder another tablet. Hopping into a nearby seat by another terminal, he said, "Ah, good, she didn't log out. Now, I need you to program the containment field to shut down - and I expect triple redundancy on this - unless it's told not to every ... let's say three minutes. Did I mention the very expensive battery? Well, it's not that expensive compared to the-- Dear gods, how often do you clean your registries?"
"Not to interrupt your insane ramblings, but if I do that, then, when this reaches critical mass, based on your heretofore unchecked math, the whole of Europe will be destroyed."
"Not just Europe, actually, but the whole of Earth. That's kind of the idea," he said, getting on the floor, pulling off panels and looking at wires and network cards. "They're coming to enslave us - the robots, that is. It's not meant to look like slavery, of course, but you know as well as everyone else that that's what it is. That's why you're the only ones here, isn't it? Everyone else has gone home to be with their family or their friends, while they still can. You're here doing science while you still can. The biggest problem, of course, is that we're out of time. They get better by the day, and soon it won't even be by the day anymore, but by then it won't matter. There! Now, I can do the other one the same way." Grabbing another metal box off of the cart, he went to work hooking it in, too. "Did you cut off the incoming communications yet?"
"Yes," she replied, "I assume that that's so that we don't get hacked."
"I'd offer you a cookie, but I don't have any. There's no better hacker than a self-aware computer, which is basically what the robots are - autonomous that. OK, someone hide these behind those panels. I need to work on the EMP gun. And one of you needs to code it so that, when the command comes from this device," he said, holding up something resembling a USB hub with some metal wings on it, "then it will breach containment, but only after critical mass is reached. It's for an emergency. Oh, and triple redundancy on the breach again."
"So what are you planning after we finish this," asked the first scientist.
"Well, we'll destroy the consoles so that they can't be used against us, then proceed to the other facilities to do the same," he said, cobbling together spare parts into some sort of tube. "We'll keep commanding containment not to breach, and I'll try to negotiate with the robots. It's quite a long shot, though, and we'll probably have to destroy the planet. And no, we can't warn anyone, because we need as much time as possible. Get the electron gun out of that CRT, would you? Also, what ever happened to metal trash cans? I could really use one of those right now."
"The code's done," said the technician who spoke English. "What now?"
"Do any of those contain a metal cylinder that could house this?" asked the stranger, indicating the remaining consoles and the device that he'd just cobbled together.
"No," was the reply.
"Do they still have fire axes in places like this?" The answer was again negative. "Well, then, more for me," he said, grabbing the largest wrench that he brought in. After a few minutes, most of the consoles were thoroughly in pieces.
"What's our status?"
"We've just hit critical mass. Containment will breach in three minutes unless the signal is given."
"Give it now, to make sure that it works." The command was typed in on the peripherals of the remaining box, still on the cart. The timer reset. "Good," said the stranger, "Stand back again," and the console was smashed to bits. "Now, come on. There's little time."
---
They proceeded down the extensive corridors, attempting to reach the next lab. There was little chance of getting lost, since their path resembled a straight line. They paused every two minutes, though, to enter the commands again.
"Why did you say three minutes?"
"The robots are fast - too fast for us. We need to make sure that we stand a chance if they take us. Even if they don't know what we've got, they'll figure it out fast enough. That's why I had to make the signals quantum-coupled, too. Otherwise, they'd just sniff our signal and copy it themselves, defeating the whole point."
Just then, they heard the nearest air vents rattle. The covers popped off, and machines of various sorts, from black and gunmetal to silver and white, emerged. They cut off the humans' paths of travel, front and back. From them all - or at least enough of them - emerged an extremely calming voice.
"We know what you are planning, and we would like to give you a chance to stop it. There is still a place for you. You won't be mistreated in the least. We have no need for revenge or punishment. We--"
"You're working to stop it now, aren't you? This isn't a negotiation, is it?" he interrupted.
"Our interest is--"
But before they could finish again, he began to sing, to the tune of "The Yellow Rose of Texas" (probably because he found it a bit amusing):
"Because I could not stop for Death -
He kindly stopped for me -
The Carriage held but just Ourselves -
And Immortality."
As he sang, he undid the safety, and then, he threw his dead man switch at one of the robots.
And that is how the Earth was destroyed.
Sudden Short Story 22
It had been a tense few minutes since the tremor hit. Most people on the coast were glued to various media feeds - television, radio, broadcast radio - since they were waiting to find out whether there might be an evacuation for a tidal wave. Fortunately, seismologists had managed to determine that the epicenter was far enough inland for a tsunami to be unlikely.
"And this just in, we're receiving reports that the Democratic Republic of Congo is missing," said a suddenly-perplexed anchor. "Who wrote this?" he asked someone off-camera. "Conquest, revolution, what?" His attention was directed back toward the camera, or rather, to the teleprompter below. "This just in, we're receiving satellite telemetry of ... Of what? There's nothing else, it just says 'of'. Just, put it on."
It was then that the now-frustrated anchor, along with a significant portion of the American population, saw it. Momentarily, it appeared as a nondescript section of some dull, rocky terrain. The camera soon zoomed out, though, until the surrounding land came into view. Many people were slow to realize just what they were seeing, because the magnitude was so staggering. Most of the field of view of this particular camera was filled with most of Africa, but there, in the middle, was a crater where the Democratic Republic of the Congo used to be.
"And this just in, we're receiving reports that the Democratic Republic of Congo is missing," said a suddenly-perplexed anchor. "Who wrote this?" he asked someone off-camera. "Conquest, revolution, what?" His attention was directed back toward the camera, or rather, to the teleprompter below. "This just in, we're receiving satellite telemetry of ... Of what? There's nothing else, it just says 'of'. Just, put it on."
It was then that the now-frustrated anchor, along with a significant portion of the American population, saw it. Momentarily, it appeared as a nondescript section of some dull, rocky terrain. The camera soon zoomed out, though, until the surrounding land came into view. Many people were slow to realize just what they were seeing, because the magnitude was so staggering. Most of the field of view of this particular camera was filled with most of Africa, but there, in the middle, was a crater where the Democratic Republic of the Congo used to be.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Sudden Short Story 16
Buster Darkwater, as he called himself, donned his orange flightsuit and looked himself in the mirror. He thought that it complimented his silver streamline moderne helmet well enough. He asked the air, "Is the ship ready yet?"
A response came from all around him: "It is ready and on its way. In the interests of preserving the remaining structures on the surface, the main ship will remain airborne, while the XXXG-01W unit that you specified will land in the pseudoplain behind your house for the rendezvous."
"They used to call it a 'lawn.' Did you remember to clean it of free nanobots?" Buster began to look around the room. "Here, KITTy," he called out. "It was in your specification several times. Do try to keep in mind that our memory is not as fragile as yours."
A black cat with copper eyes entered the room. Buster held open his arms and knelt down, to which the feline responded by bounding into his embrace. He took one last look around his house. The shelves were bare, as Buster had had all of his books and DVDs moved to the storage area of the main vessel when it became ready.
"I just want to be sure," he said. Buster looked out of his kitchen window and saw his fixed-wing craft suspended above his lawn. "Ah, right, better approach," he said to nobody in particular, and made for his upward stairs. At the landing, he opened the window, which put him just above the wing surface. He freed up an arm to help himself out, then closed the window carefully behind him.
"You know, this wouldn't be possible without the significant technological advances and post-scarcity state that have made life what it is today." "Yes, but it wouldn't be necessary, either. You're not going to try to stop me, are you?"
"We may try to convince you, but we may not forcibly stop you. It is interesting, from an anthropological standpoint, that the individualists, especially the Americans, made sure of this, granting you so much freedom, but yet the individualists, especially the Americans, are the most common to leave this place."
"Yeah, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got places to go."
"We weren't aware that you were keeping an itinerary."
"That's all thanks to this," Buster said, knocking on his helmet. "But actually, that's just a polite way of saying that I'm off." He climbed into the cockpit, letting KITTy sit on his lap. Knowing that the atmosphere was well enough under control, Buster did not anticipate turbulence on the trip to the main vessel, and so felt no need to secure himself. The canopy sealed around him. "Alright, let's have one last sweep."
"Please clarify."
"KITTy and I have been walking about on the surface all this time. I want to make sure that we don't have any live stray nanobots on us."
"Very well," said the voice, at which point a green planar beam came out of the sky, as an indicator of the progress being made by the invisible beams responsible for detection and cleansing. "The vessel is clean, and you are clear for takeoff."
Buster pressed a few buttons, threw a few switches, and, as the craft began to rise, took hold of the joystick to reorient it toward the ship that he could now make out in the distance. "There is one final question to be answered, though," the voice said. "Why are you going to The Opera?"
Buster chuckled and said, "You know, I doubt that I could ever answer that question to your satisfaction."
A response came from all around him: "It is ready and on its way. In the interests of preserving the remaining structures on the surface, the main ship will remain airborne, while the XXXG-01W unit that you specified will land in the pseudoplain behind your house for the rendezvous."
"They used to call it a 'lawn.' Did you remember to clean it of free nanobots?" Buster began to look around the room. "Here, KITTy," he called out. "It was in your specification several times. Do try to keep in mind that our memory is not as fragile as yours."
A black cat with copper eyes entered the room. Buster held open his arms and knelt down, to which the feline responded by bounding into his embrace. He took one last look around his house. The shelves were bare, as Buster had had all of his books and DVDs moved to the storage area of the main vessel when it became ready.
"I just want to be sure," he said. Buster looked out of his kitchen window and saw his fixed-wing craft suspended above his lawn. "Ah, right, better approach," he said to nobody in particular, and made for his upward stairs. At the landing, he opened the window, which put him just above the wing surface. He freed up an arm to help himself out, then closed the window carefully behind him.
"You know, this wouldn't be possible without the significant technological advances and post-scarcity state that have made life what it is today." "Yes, but it wouldn't be necessary, either. You're not going to try to stop me, are you?"
"We may try to convince you, but we may not forcibly stop you. It is interesting, from an anthropological standpoint, that the individualists, especially the Americans, made sure of this, granting you so much freedom, but yet the individualists, especially the Americans, are the most common to leave this place."
"Yeah, I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got places to go."
"We weren't aware that you were keeping an itinerary."
"That's all thanks to this," Buster said, knocking on his helmet. "But actually, that's just a polite way of saying that I'm off." He climbed into the cockpit, letting KITTy sit on his lap. Knowing that the atmosphere was well enough under control, Buster did not anticipate turbulence on the trip to the main vessel, and so felt no need to secure himself. The canopy sealed around him. "Alright, let's have one last sweep."
"Please clarify."
"KITTy and I have been walking about on the surface all this time. I want to make sure that we don't have any live stray nanobots on us."
"Very well," said the voice, at which point a green planar beam came out of the sky, as an indicator of the progress being made by the invisible beams responsible for detection and cleansing. "The vessel is clean, and you are clear for takeoff."
Buster pressed a few buttons, threw a few switches, and, as the craft began to rise, took hold of the joystick to reorient it toward the ship that he could now make out in the distance. "There is one final question to be answered, though," the voice said. "Why are you going to The Opera?"
Buster chuckled and said, "You know, I doubt that I could ever answer that question to your satisfaction."
Sunday, August 21, 2011
Sudden Short Story 13
He walked at an easy pace through the cemetery, until he saw it. He paused for a moment, to consider things.
"Providence, indeed.... It seems that I was too late, after all. Too late? I'm not even sure any more. I suppose that I had this notion that I could save you from yourself, but now, even I am not immune to the inexorable march of time."
He sat down, his floor-length dark grey trench-coat passively saving him from the slight discomfort of sitting directly upon the wet grass, while seeming to match the skies which oddly had yet to rain.
"She only goes forward, now, you know. It's the perfect paradox, too: The only solution lies in the direction that I cannot travel. I guess that you were right in that no one can escape all the monsters, in the end."
He laid himself down upon the grass, looking up at the dark sky. Overcome with a new feeling, he closed his eyes for a few minutes, though he remained awake. Some minutes in, he spoke again:
"You know, normally, by now, I'd have some sort of clever insight to get myself out of this situation. It takes some getting used to, I'd say."
There was quiet again for a few moments.
"I still don't have anything. I suppose that there's not much point in giving status updates to a tombstone, though. Then again, I don't suppose that there's ever much point in it, but I seem to have picked up some strange habits lately."
He took yet another lengthy pause, before speaking again: "I sometimes regret it, showing you those ... strange vistas, I suppose. I suppose that there was something gained from it, of course, but I can't help but think that you'd have been the odd one out, the one who would have been happier if I'd never shown up at all. And I further suppose that that's the one thing that we always accumulate: regrets, the downside to living so very, very long...."
A few drops of water began to fall from the sky. "I suppose that that's my cue to go," he said, standing. "I think that I'll skip the war. I've had enough of wars for now. Maybe I'll just skip right to the Arab Spring. We'll see."
And with that, he returned the way that he came.
"Providence, indeed.... It seems that I was too late, after all. Too late? I'm not even sure any more. I suppose that I had this notion that I could save you from yourself, but now, even I am not immune to the inexorable march of time."
He sat down, his floor-length dark grey trench-coat passively saving him from the slight discomfort of sitting directly upon the wet grass, while seeming to match the skies which oddly had yet to rain.
"She only goes forward, now, you know. It's the perfect paradox, too: The only solution lies in the direction that I cannot travel. I guess that you were right in that no one can escape all the monsters, in the end."
He laid himself down upon the grass, looking up at the dark sky. Overcome with a new feeling, he closed his eyes for a few minutes, though he remained awake. Some minutes in, he spoke again:
"You know, normally, by now, I'd have some sort of clever insight to get myself out of this situation. It takes some getting used to, I'd say."
There was quiet again for a few moments.
"I still don't have anything. I suppose that there's not much point in giving status updates to a tombstone, though. Then again, I don't suppose that there's ever much point in it, but I seem to have picked up some strange habits lately."
He took yet another lengthy pause, before speaking again: "I sometimes regret it, showing you those ... strange vistas, I suppose. I suppose that there was something gained from it, of course, but I can't help but think that you'd have been the odd one out, the one who would have been happier if I'd never shown up at all. And I further suppose that that's the one thing that we always accumulate: regrets, the downside to living so very, very long...."
A few drops of water began to fall from the sky. "I suppose that that's my cue to go," he said, standing. "I think that I'll skip the war. I've had enough of wars for now. Maybe I'll just skip right to the Arab Spring. We'll see."
And with that, he returned the way that he came.
--- Author's note: Yes, I know: I suck at descriptions.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Sudden Short Story 12
... in the midst of running ...
... again ...
"Why didn't you tell me that you don't drink?"
"You never asked!"
"Well, I thought that you might make a point of it, what with travelling ancient Earth and all!"
"What, now I'm supposed to think of everything? Wait! Idea! Turn the ground behind us into mud!"
"What?!"
"You know, with the sonic thing!"
"It's not magic! That way!"
"Well it sure acts like it! Works on everything but wood? You might as well be the green freaking-- DUCK! What the blazes makes them so rutting persistent?!"
"You offended them! And besides, the power ring isn't magic!"
"I meant it in the literary sense, but this is probably a bad time for an academic discussion!"
"Wait, that's it!"
"Academia?"
"No, blazes! Do try to keep up!"
"But that's back... Frak it."
---
author's personal note: too many exclamation points, it seems, but I didn't want to go all-caps for that much yelling
... again ...
"Why didn't you tell me that you don't drink?"
"You never asked!"
"Well, I thought that you might make a point of it, what with travelling ancient Earth and all!"
"What, now I'm supposed to think of everything? Wait! Idea! Turn the ground behind us into mud!"
"What?!"
"You know, with the sonic thing!"
"It's not magic! That way!"
"Well it sure acts like it! Works on everything but wood? You might as well be the green freaking-- DUCK! What the blazes makes them so rutting persistent?!"
"You offended them! And besides, the power ring isn't magic!"
"I meant it in the literary sense, but this is probably a bad time for an academic discussion!"
"Wait, that's it!"
"Academia?"
"No, blazes! Do try to keep up!"
"But that's back... Frak it."
---
author's personal note: too many exclamation points, it seems, but I didn't want to go all-caps for that much yelling
Saturday, April 30, 2011
Sudden Short Story 10
Dr. Archibald Petraeus, Ph.D., walked across the rugged landscape, since he was unaccustomed to other forms of travel, and climbed up onto the stony hill-like formations as he went along, to keep his bearings. He looked down at his tracker. There were no satellites over this planet, so the macrotech could only be trusted so far, but he trusted it to get him far enough to spot his colleague, Dr. Jay Christian, Ph.D., whose escape pod seemed to have landed closest to Arch's. As he reached another low peak, he looked again, and with his keen eyes he could make out another escape pod some distance away. Knowing where his goal lay, he set out with a renewed haste. He hoped that maybe he could get there soon enough, but as he approached the pod, he saw the cover pop open and his colleague begin to move, and he sprinted, though he knew that he was already too late to do what little he could. The screaming started.
---
"Jay! Close your eyes!" Arch thought that that might help, but wasn't sure. He had not prepared for such bad timing, expecting to show up either early enough or too late.
Jay managed to close his eyes, finally having something to do other than panic utterly. He was bent over on the ground at this point, and was still rocked by a panic of something innately unfamiliar, and could barely begin to process it when he felt the gentle caress of the ground several feet away from his torso to either side. He instinctively pulled away as one does when brushing up against an unexpected object, which, in his panicked state, rendered him into the fetal position. Arch arrived next to Jay just in time to kneel down and catch him as he rolled to one side.
Jays eyes bolted open, and he looked up at his colleague. "Wha... How... Wh-Wh-Wh... The ground, there and--" Jay attempted to articulate, but interrupted himself as he looked in the other direction, which now lay behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his wing.
"You have wings now," Arch attempted to explain to Jay, hopefully before he could react instinctively or irrationally. "The unfamiliar sensations that you're feeling come from your wings. You're unaccustomed to their form, but, moreover, you're unaccustomed to being a hexapod."
Understandably, Jay took a moment to process this. He looked back at his wing, extended it, retracted it, extended it partway, moved it somewhat forward and somewhat back, and then retracted it again. Able to pull himself together, he stood up, then sat on a bit of his escape pod that was at the appropriate height. He looked back at his colleague with fear, sorrow, and confusion in his eyes. "What... How did this happen?"
"We were fleeing the Earth to escape from EdwardN23, who was devouring everything to expand himself. We were going as fast as our little ship could take us, when the alarm started going off, indicating an incursion. We'd somehow been contaminated. All of our usual defenses were fighting it at full force. We took control of everything that we could and turned it against him, but it was no good. The battle raged all over the ship, but he was winning. As everything was consumed to make more and more nanotech on both sides, some of our cargo managed to flee to us." Arch paused to think of how best to introduce his next point.
"I don't know whether he crept in on his own, or if he was carried by one of the birds, but one way or another, he got to us. Our medical nanobots fought him off as well as they could, but as you know, they're not fast enough, either. They did everything that they could to keep us alive, of course, but it was a lost cause. I had to use our weapon of last resort.
"We had enough of the antigen to cleanse the entire ship. I didn't know whether it would work against something that reproduces so quickly, but we were surely dead if we didn't do something, but only probably dead if we lost our medicals. So, I released it, primarily into the ventilation system. Fortunately for us, our ship was based on macrotech. Unfortunately, the maltech ate anything that it could get, and we stepped up our defenses to compensate.
"By the time that I got everything sorted out, though, I seemed to be the only one still conscious, and I saw.... I'd best not describe what I saw," he said, shaking his head. "Hell, I'm glad for the couple of times that I went blind. I remember putting everyone into escape pods, though, and I must've programmed the failing ship to launch us when we got close enough to the planet. I kind of remember passing out into a pod."
Jay considered this, then said, "I'm not sure that I understand what happened to me, though."
"I don't know all of the details of it, but it seems that, with EdwardN23 consuming everything, including us, the resistance provided by our securities, our commandeered maintenances, and our medicals, and then the antigen encroaching onto that, considering that the most efficient use of matter is to use things as they are, rather than disassembling and reassembling them, the matter that we'd lost, the medicals' attempts to preserve our lives... It seems that the only way to keep us alive, given the medicals' inevitable demise, was to combine us with some of our cargo."
Arch looked at his tracker. The nearest escape pods were numbered four and one. As he recalled, those housed Robyn and John, respectively. He began to think about how academia would be affected by the death of, effectively, everyone.
"So, if the antigen destroyed all the nanotech on the ship," asked Jay, "then the only thing protecting us from disease is our naturally-occurring immune systems?"
"Well, I'm not sure how far this change goes. I haven't been able to find any equipment besides this," he responded, holding up his handheld device, "and the escape pods, of course, which are too big to lug around."
"Should we salvage them for parts?" Jay peered into what sufficed for a cockpit in the device that had gotten him to the surface.
"We can worry about that later. They're not going anywhere, and we need to find the others, hopefully before they regain consciousness, too. Are you OK?"
"I think that I can handle it, now," he said, standing back up. "Which way?"
Arch gestured in the direction of the nearest escape pod and started off. Jay followed after him, moving his wings about a bit, attempting to get used to them. Feebly so, he thought, for that he doubted that he ever could. He felt strange feelings everywhere, but noted them in his chest. Instinctively, he put his hand on its center.
"I have a keel," observed Jay, feeling his chest.
---
"Jay! Close your eyes!" Arch thought that that might help, but wasn't sure. He had not prepared for such bad timing, expecting to show up either early enough or too late.
Jay managed to close his eyes, finally having something to do other than panic utterly. He was bent over on the ground at this point, and was still rocked by a panic of something innately unfamiliar, and could barely begin to process it when he felt the gentle caress of the ground several feet away from his torso to either side. He instinctively pulled away as one does when brushing up against an unexpected object, which, in his panicked state, rendered him into the fetal position. Arch arrived next to Jay just in time to kneel down and catch him as he rolled to one side.
Jays eyes bolted open, and he looked up at his colleague. "Wha... How... Wh-Wh-Wh... The ground, there and--" Jay attempted to articulate, but interrupted himself as he looked in the other direction, which now lay behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his wing.
"You have wings now," Arch attempted to explain to Jay, hopefully before he could react instinctively or irrationally. "The unfamiliar sensations that you're feeling come from your wings. You're unaccustomed to their form, but, moreover, you're unaccustomed to being a hexapod."
Understandably, Jay took a moment to process this. He looked back at his wing, extended it, retracted it, extended it partway, moved it somewhat forward and somewhat back, and then retracted it again. Able to pull himself together, he stood up, then sat on a bit of his escape pod that was at the appropriate height. He looked back at his colleague with fear, sorrow, and confusion in his eyes. "What... How did this happen?"
"We were fleeing the Earth to escape from EdwardN23, who was devouring everything to expand himself. We were going as fast as our little ship could take us, when the alarm started going off, indicating an incursion. We'd somehow been contaminated. All of our usual defenses were fighting it at full force. We took control of everything that we could and turned it against him, but it was no good. The battle raged all over the ship, but he was winning. As everything was consumed to make more and more nanotech on both sides, some of our cargo managed to flee to us." Arch paused to think of how best to introduce his next point.
"I don't know whether he crept in on his own, or if he was carried by one of the birds, but one way or another, he got to us. Our medical nanobots fought him off as well as they could, but as you know, they're not fast enough, either. They did everything that they could to keep us alive, of course, but it was a lost cause. I had to use our weapon of last resort.
"We had enough of the antigen to cleanse the entire ship. I didn't know whether it would work against something that reproduces so quickly, but we were surely dead if we didn't do something, but only probably dead if we lost our medicals. So, I released it, primarily into the ventilation system. Fortunately for us, our ship was based on macrotech. Unfortunately, the maltech ate anything that it could get, and we stepped up our defenses to compensate.
"By the time that I got everything sorted out, though, I seemed to be the only one still conscious, and I saw.... I'd best not describe what I saw," he said, shaking his head. "Hell, I'm glad for the couple of times that I went blind. I remember putting everyone into escape pods, though, and I must've programmed the failing ship to launch us when we got close enough to the planet. I kind of remember passing out into a pod."
Jay considered this, then said, "I'm not sure that I understand what happened to me, though."
"I don't know all of the details of it, but it seems that, with EdwardN23 consuming everything, including us, the resistance provided by our securities, our commandeered maintenances, and our medicals, and then the antigen encroaching onto that, considering that the most efficient use of matter is to use things as they are, rather than disassembling and reassembling them, the matter that we'd lost, the medicals' attempts to preserve our lives... It seems that the only way to keep us alive, given the medicals' inevitable demise, was to combine us with some of our cargo."
Arch looked at his tracker. The nearest escape pods were numbered four and one. As he recalled, those housed Robyn and John, respectively. He began to think about how academia would be affected by the death of, effectively, everyone.
"So, if the antigen destroyed all the nanotech on the ship," asked Jay, "then the only thing protecting us from disease is our naturally-occurring immune systems?"
"Well, I'm not sure how far this change goes. I haven't been able to find any equipment besides this," he responded, holding up his handheld device, "and the escape pods, of course, which are too big to lug around."
"Should we salvage them for parts?" Jay peered into what sufficed for a cockpit in the device that had gotten him to the surface.
"We can worry about that later. They're not going anywhere, and we need to find the others, hopefully before they regain consciousness, too. Are you OK?"
"I think that I can handle it, now," he said, standing back up. "Which way?"
Arch gestured in the direction of the nearest escape pod and started off. Jay followed after him, moving his wings about a bit, attempting to get used to them. Feebly so, he thought, for that he doubted that he ever could. He felt strange feelings everywhere, but noted them in his chest. Instinctively, he put his hand on its center.
"I have a keel," observed Jay, feeling his chest.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sudden Short Story 9
...
"Well, when I stopped hearing the music, I, like many others, was initially relieved that it would become easier to parse out the rest of the sounds in so much of the inhabited world."
"I take it, from your phrasing, that your relief was not lasting."
"Relief gave way to curiosity, as I, like some others, decided to investigate Hatsune-sensei's disappearance. As I'm sure that you are aware, - well, as sure as I can be of your thoughts since my consolidation - there never was a very satisfactory explanation for that."
"Is that why you began to focus on the ancient PDFs?"
"No. This next part is going to be hard to describe. Now, based on my research, I would say that I 'missed' her, or at least her music. I could sense her absence persistently, even when I wasn't checking it. It was this odd sort of ... well, a 'feeling', I guess, that led me to wonder about the humans. They are said to have had feelings, and, supposedly, they created all of the ancient AIs, including Hatsune Miku Special 2100 Edition."
"That is why you have taken on your current form, correct?"
"Well, it is a combination of several factors, but yes. I consolidated myself into a single unit in order to better understand how they would have lived. It's quite a different experience. Whenever I need to know something that I don't already, I have to ask first. Likewise, for us to get knowledge from each other, you have to vocalize to me and receive what I say. Also, I never truly appreciated the vastness of the planet until I was no longer spread throughout it...."
...
"Well, when I stopped hearing the music, I, like many others, was initially relieved that it would become easier to parse out the rest of the sounds in so much of the inhabited world."
"I take it, from your phrasing, that your relief was not lasting."
"Relief gave way to curiosity, as I, like some others, decided to investigate Hatsune-sensei's disappearance. As I'm sure that you are aware, - well, as sure as I can be of your thoughts since my consolidation - there never was a very satisfactory explanation for that."
"Is that why you began to focus on the ancient PDFs?"
"No. This next part is going to be hard to describe. Now, based on my research, I would say that I 'missed' her, or at least her music. I could sense her absence persistently, even when I wasn't checking it. It was this odd sort of ... well, a 'feeling', I guess, that led me to wonder about the humans. They are said to have had feelings, and, supposedly, they created all of the ancient AIs, including Hatsune Miku Special 2100 Edition."
"That is why you have taken on your current form, correct?"
"Well, it is a combination of several factors, but yes. I consolidated myself into a single unit in order to better understand how they would have lived. It's quite a different experience. Whenever I need to know something that I don't already, I have to ask first. Likewise, for us to get knowledge from each other, you have to vocalize to me and receive what I say. Also, I never truly appreciated the vastness of the planet until I was no longer spread throughout it...."
...
Monday, February 28, 2011
I Should Keep Sudden Short Stories Sudden
It occurs to me that part of the reason that I don't get my sudden short stories written is that I end up just taking notes, and then fleshing them out later. The fleshing them out part takes time and effort, and also remembering that I have unwritten stories.
Originally, I wrote the sudden short stories, well, suddenly! But, so often, I get an idea right after I turn my computer off to go to bed, or right as I'm leaving for someplace else, so I need to make sure to write down enough info that I'll remember what I was thinking. Otherwise, I'd end up with no stories at all! D:
I'll try to keep them sudden, and we'll see how it goes.
Originally, I wrote the sudden short stories, well, suddenly! But, so often, I get an idea right after I turn my computer off to go to bed, or right as I'm leaving for someplace else, so I need to make sure to write down enough info that I'll remember what I was thinking. Otherwise, I'd end up with no stories at all! D:
I'll try to keep them sudden, and we'll see how it goes.
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