Search Results for 'interesting'

Forums Search Search Results for 'interesting'

Viewing 20 results - 101 through 120 (of 304 total)
  • Author
    Search Results
  • #4148
    TracyTracy
    Participant

      Meanwhile, Clove was wondering if she had made the right decision to lodge with the most boring family on earth. True, there had been times when life had been somewhat boring back home, but nobody could accuse her family of being boring.

      But the Smith family! why, even their names were boring. John and Sue had spawned a small tribe of boredom: Sara and Steve, the unidentical, uninteresting and unemployed twins, still bored at home at the age of 27; Jason, an ordinary ten year old who wasn’t even autistic or allergic to anything, and a particularly unprepossessing three year old called Jane.

      It will be an interesting exercise in observing boredom, Corrie had said. Yeah, right. Corrie didn’t have to live with them.

      #4136

      In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

      Jib
      Participant

        lost great wasn’t interesting
        dispersee situation cleaner
        dress white
        job sometimes inn looked
        asked change front turn
        picked order bossy maid

        #4131

        “Doctor, doctor, I think we’ve located our escaped test subject.” Barbara gleamed at the Doctor, showing her a bit of newspaper.

        “Not that rag again!” he grumbled “You should know how I hate that piece of rubbish.”

        “Well, they make for entertaining rea…” She quickly swallowed her last words, seeing the mad look in the Doctor’s eyes. “… they make for interesting findings… sometimes…” she pursued more vehemently, “such as this one! Look! The Hairy Trenchcoat Ape Sightings by our special extreme reporter in … well sorry, I can’t read that location’s name, it looks so hopelessly from the British Isles…”

        “Well, we will soon see if this is contagious now, shan’t we?” The Doctor said with an evil glee.

        “Be as it may,” the Doctor continued “how are our new guests doing so far on the rejuvenating cure?”

        “Oh well, they’re curing alright.” Barbara said matter-of-factly.

        #4112

        In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

        “And what does it mean?” James asked Gelly.
        “2. The Receptive, ach, es means quietness is gut, ja. Und es ist a good time to ask yourself ‘Am I sincerely pursuing the gut für its own sake, or do Ich have ein hidden agenda?’.”

        Gelly was drawing the I-Ching to help James about his question. He still had doubts about his decision to enroll.

        “Did you have any chance to reach Floverley?”
        “Ach, She is tricky Master, very subtle energy, difficult to draw in, but yes, she has manifested herself a few times. She seems to like my owl sehr much.”
        “I would be interested in connecting with Her, can you setup an appointment?”
        “Oh, that would be interesting, why not, let me put you in… what about… next week? same time?”
        “That would be great thanks.”

        :fleuron:

        Edward removed the VR helmet from his head, and looked at Florence’s pod on the surveillance cam with a forlorn look on his face.

        He was well aware that, like many “normal” people in the Great Simulation, Gelly was just another program developed and maintained by the central system, REYE itself. But sometimes REYE’s programs managed to get buggy, glitchy or a bit on the fringe of the acceptable parameters. Gelly was one of those programs, not completely autonomous, but sort of aware of the beyond of her parameters. In any case, Ascended Master would look for no lesser caliber of persons to enlighten. So, she was quite a potential lure to Floverley, or even Dispersee.

        James was Edward’s completely virtual avatar, and James’ online meetings with Gelly could fit undetected within the acceptable boundaries of the whole program and go beyond the radar of the ever-looking REYE.

        Edward couldn’t wait to meet with Flo next week.

        #4099

        Funley sniffed loudly as she unhurriedly emptied the trash can in Ed Steam’s office, pausing to read any interesting correspondence which may have wound up there. Looking over towards Ed and finding that his attention was still fixed on the computer monitor, she followed her sniff up with a small snort and then a throat clearing noise. When her sniffs and snorts didn’t capture Ed’s attention, she proceeded to blow her nose explosively.

        This did the trick. Ed jumped and looked at Funley in alarm.

        “Whatever is the matter, Funley? Are you ill?”

        “Sorry, didn’t mean to disturb you,” apologised Finnley, pulling up a chair in front of Ed’s desk and seating herself comfortably on it.

        “Actually, if you are not too busy, there is a small problem I’ve been wanting to speak with you about. I promised I would untangle the threads for you however the entanglement situation is worse than I could have imagined in my wildest dreams. Or nightmares for that matter. I don’t know who has been doing the record keeping — although I would hazard a guess at Evangeline — but the cross referencing, where it exists, is appalling and … “

        A tap on the door and the new employee, Duncan Minestrone, popped his head into the office. “You wanted to see me, Mr Steam?” he asked.

        Funley glanced towards the door in exasperation at the interruption and then her expression changed to one of horror.

        Jasper Grok!” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

        #4060
        TracyTracy
        Participant

          Disappointed at the lack of interesting activity in Iceland, Hilda made a snap decision to catch the first flight to Liverpool. The news of the mysterious plague doctor roaming the streets of Chester had piqued her curiosity.

          Was it an omen or just some fool in a fancy dress costume? Maybe it was a time traveler. If so, it would be worth investigating further.

          #4034

          “You’re lucky it wasn’t your hands,” said Tina. She had visited Quentin after Connie had left. Strange reporter that one. Kind of short sized with big eyes that never blinked. Tina snorted and dismissed the memory with a roll of her eyes, then looked at Quentin straight in the eyes, awaiting for his answer.

          “What do you mean ?” asked Quentin. Tina didn’t expected the answer to be a question. She rolled her eyes as if Quentin had missed the obvious.

          “The giant gouda ball, you’re lucky it didn’t roll on your hands.”

          Quentin looked at Tina with a bit of concern in his eyes. She had been acting weird lately and making odd random connections between events and comments. He looked at his friend more closely. She had a bird nest on her head. With two eggs. It was a fake nest. He certainly hoped the eggs were too. He had no idea

          “Anyway,” Tina said, “I won a trip to some island of the hidden people from the http://travellerofworlds.tp website. Wanna come with me, Quentin?”
          He thought of his options. The most obvious response would be that he had no idea what a hidden people could be. If it was hidden it could very well be that it was hiddeous and needed to be hidden. On the other hand… Quentin looked at his other hand. It was empty.

          “They say it’s on the rim of the realm,” added Tina as if she had read Quentin’s thought and need for a motive.
          Now, he thought, the rim of the realm, that sounded quite an interesting unexplored territory to discover.
          “When do we leave ? I need to ask Yannosh to pack my suitcase.”

          #3996
          TracyTracy
          Participant

            The following is an e-mail from the past, composed on July 01, 2010. It is being delivered from the past through FutureMe.org

            Dear FutureMe,
            The Absinthe Cafe
            Dawn and Mark had a bottle of Absinthe (the proper stuff with the WORMwood in
            it, which is illegal in France) but forgot to bring it. Wandering around at
            some point, we chanced upon a cafe called Absinthe. Sitting on the terrace, the
            waitress came up and looked right at me and said “Oh you are booked to come here
            tomorrow night!” and then said “Forget I said that”. Naturally that got our
            attention. After we left Dawn spotted a kid with 2016 on the back of his T
            shirt. We asked Arkandin about it and we have a concurrent group focus that does
            meet in that cafe in 2016, including Britta. Dawn’s name is Isabelle Spencer,
            Jib’s is Jennifer….
            The Worm & The Suitcase
            I borrowed Rachel’s big red suitcase for the trip and stuck a Time Bridgers
            sticker on it, and joked before I left about the case disappearing to 2163. I
            had an impulse to take a fig tree sapling for Eric and Jib, which did survive
            the trip although it looked a little shocked at first. As Eric was repotting
            it, we noticed a worm in the soil, and I said, Well, if the fig tree dies at
            least you have the worm.
            At Balzacs house on a bench in the garden there was a magazine lying there open
            to an ad for Spain, which said “If you lose your suitcase it would be the best
            thing because you would have to stay”.
            Later we asked Arkandin and he said that there was something from the future
            inserted into my suitcase. I went all through it wondering what it could be,
            and then a couple of days ago Eric said that it was the WORM! because of the
            WORMwood absinthe syncs, and worm hole etc. I just had a chat with Franci who
            had a big worm sync a couple of days ago, she particularly noticed a very big
            worm outside the second hand shop, and noted that she hadn’t seen a worm in ages
            ~ which is also a sync, because there was a big second hand clothes shop next to
            Dawn and Mark’s hotel that I went into looking for a bowler hat.
            Arkandin said, by the way, that Jane did forget to mention the bowler hats in
            OS7, those two guys on the balcony were indeed wearing bowler hats, and that
            they were the same guys that were in my bedroom in the dream I had prior to
            finding the Seth stuff ~ Elias and Patel.
            Eric replied:

            And another Time Bridger thing; a while ago, Jib and I had fun planting some TB stickers at random places in Paris (and some on a wooden gate at Jib’s hometown).
            Those in Paris I remember were one at the waiting room of a big tech department store, and another on the huge “Bateaux Mouches” sign on the Pont de l’Alma (bridge, the one of Lady D. where there is a gilded replica of Lady Liberty’s flame).
            I think there are pics of that on Jib’s or my flickr account somewhere.
            When we were walking past this spot, Jib suddenly remembered the TB sticker — meanwhile, the sign which was quite clean before had been written all over, and had other stickers everywhere. We wondered whether it was still here, and there it was! It’s been something like 2 years… Kind of amazing to think it’s still there, and imagine all the people that may have seen it since!
            ~~~~

            The Flights

            I wasn’t all that keen on flying and procrastinated for ages about the trip. I
            flew with EASYjet, so it was nice to see the word EASY everywhere. I got on the
            plane to find that they don’t allocate seats, and chose a seat right at the
            front on the left. The head flight attendant was extremely playful for the
            whole flight, constantly cracking up laughing and teasing the other flight
            attendants, who would poke him and make him laugh during announcements so that
            he kept having to put the phone down while he laughed. I spent the whole flight
            laughing and catching his mischeivously twinking eye.
            I asked Arkandin about him and he said his energy was superimposed. I got on
            the flight to come home and was met on the plane by the same guy! I said
            HELLO! It’s YOU again! Can I sit in the same seat and are you going to make me
            laugh again” and he actually moved the person that was in my seat and said I
            could sit there. Then he asked me about my book (about magic and Napolean). He
            also said that all his flights all week had been delayed except the two that I
            was on. He wanted to give me a card for frequent flyers but I told him I
            usually flew without planes ~ that cracked him up ;))
            ~~~

            The Dream Bean

            Eric cracked open a special big African bean that is supposed to enhance
            dreams/lucidity so we all had a bit of it. The second night I remembered a
            dream and it was a wonderful one.
            (Coincidentally, on the flight home I read a few pages of my book and it just
            happened to be about the council of five dragons and misuse of magical beans)
            In the dream I had a companion with magical powers, who I presumed was Jib but
            it was myself actually. It was a long adventure dream of being chased and
            various adventures across the countryside, but there was no stress, it was all
            great fun. Everytime things got a bit too close in the dream, I’d hold onto my
            friend with magical powers, and we would elevate above the “adventure” and drop
            down in another location out of immediate danger ~ although we were never
            outside of the adventure, so to speak. At one point I wondered why my magical
            freind didn’t just elevate us right up high and out of it completely, and
            realized that we were in the adventure game on purpose for the fun of it, so why
            would we remove ourselves completely from the adventure game.
            In the dream I remember we were heading for Holland at one point, and then the
            last part we were safely heading for Turkey…..
            The other dream snapshot was “we are all working together on roof tiles” and
            Arkandin had some interesting stuff to say about that one.
            ~~~

            There were alot of vampire imagery incidents starting with me asking Eric if he
            slept in his garden tool box at night, and then the guy who shot out of a door
            right next to Jib and Eric’s, in a bright orange T shirt, carrying a cardboard
            coffin. He stopped for me to take a photo (and Arkandin said it was a Patel pop
            in); then while walking through the outdoor food market someone was chopping a
            crate up and a perfect wooden stake flew across the floor and landed at my feet.
            The next vampire sync was a shop opposite Dawn and Mark’s hotel with 3 coffins
            in the window (I went back to take a pic of the cello actually, didn’t even
            notice the coffins). Inside the shop was an EAU DE NIL MOTOR SCOOTER Share, can
            you beleive it, and a mummy, a stuffed raven, and a row of (Tardis) Red phone
            boxes.
            I had a nightmare last night that I couldn’t find any of my (nine) dogs; the
            only ones I could find were the dead ones.
            ~~~~

            Balzac’s House

            The trip to Balzac’s house was interesting, although in somewhat unexpected
            ways. (Arkandin was Balzac and I was the cook/housekeeper) The house didn’t
            seem “right” somehow to Mark and I and we decided that was probably because
            other than the desk there was no furniture in it. Mark saw a black cat that
            nobody else saw that was an Arkandin pop in (panther essence animal), and Dawn
            felt that he was sitting on a chair, and Mark sat on him. (Arkandin said yes he
            did sit on him ;) The kitchen was being used as an office. Jib felt the house
            was too small, and picked up on a focus of his that rented the other part of the
            house. (The house was one storey high on the side we entered, and two storeys
            high from the road below). There were two pop ins there apparently, one with
            long hair which is a connection to my friend Joy who was part of that group
            focus, and I can’t recall anything about the other one. Dawn was picking up
            that Balzac wasn’t too happy, and I was remembering the part in Cousin Bette
            that infuriated me when I read it, where he goes on and on about how disgusting
            it is for servants to expect their wages when their “betters” are in dire
            straits. Arkandin confirmed that I didn’t get my wages.
            The garden was enchanting and had a couple of sphinx statues and a dead pigeon ~
            as well as the magazine with the suitcase and Spain imagery. Mark signed the
            guest book “brought the cook back” and I replied “no cooking smells this time”.

            #3976

            In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

            ÉricÉric
            Keymaster

              unexpected john apparently interesting
              secret world gone easily cackler
              notice program chair refugee outside
              run dido fact ones lizette start short

              #3894

              In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

              Frowning, Dispersee pondered the latest impulse and hesitated before including it in her report. The imagery had shifted from pools, to bubbles, to vapourous mist rising in shafts of sunlight, which sounded dangerously akin to ascending into the light, and that would never do. There was already far too much mumbo jumbo circulating about ascension and light, and altogether too many people sitting around on gluten free arses, ignoring everything, waiting for the shifted salt free shaft of the rapture to beam them up to the higher realms.

              No, it was no good, she couldn’t possibly share the new imagery, it would be misconstrued and counterproductive. Dispersee waited for the next strange impulse, and further clues.

              She didn’t have to wait long: the next morning, seized by another compulsion, she slipped out of the house into the dense swirling fog. Normally a big fan of bright contrast and intense colours, the diffused monochrome scenes were somehow restful to her senses. Water droplets danced in the air like common eye floaters, gathering on her skin and hair, wetting her as effectively as a dunk in a pool, but without the sudden shock of a plunge. It was insidious, almost sneaky, the way the mist pretended to be air but was mostly water. The fog connected everything in its path with its swarms of moisture droplets, drenching everything. Dispersee wondered if her wellington boot had sprung a leak as her left sock became coldly saturated, but it was the rivulets of clinging fog dribbling down her trouser leg.

              The bucolic scenery in shades of grey reminded her of the common phrase “it’s not black and white” which had been much bandied about of late. No, it’s not, she mused, it’s shades of reflected dispersed fluid, masquerading as spaces and solid matters. Poised to take a snapshot of a particularly large dewdrop which was reflecting an interesting twisted sapling, Dispersee blundered into the stalk of the plant, causing a furious shivering along the stems and seed pods. She watched with a feeling akin to fascinated horror as the glorious individual droplets merged into a channel of least resistance, spilling down in streams to gather in the mud.

              #3878
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Geoffroy du Limon had felt confident that he had the skills to act the new role, considering his notable career in the theatre in the old story. He liked his new name: Miles Fitzroy suited him perfectly; and he anticipated resonating with London (although he would have preferred New Zealand: he’d heard that his old friend Francette Fine had been assigned a new story there). He found himself floundering, however, in unexpected ways.

                The most unsettling factor was the absence of a back story. Without associations or automatic habits, he was unsure how to play his personality. Without triggers, where was the humour? There was simply nothing dramatic, comedic or tragic, nothing to make the play thrilling, exciting, or enticing, if everyone was an innocuous beige blob. A present beige blob is still a blob and not very interesting.

                Roll up! Roll up! Come and see the show! Watch the cast focusing on themselves and not reacting to triggers! Nothing to judge here, folks, Roll up!

                Geoffroy had no idea that having so few limiting guidelines could be so difficult. One had always assumed that it was the limiting guidelines that boxed one in, held one back, he mused, not the other way round. It was indeed a challenge, and he found himself feeling nostalgic for the old story.

                #3839

                In reply to: Scrying the Word Cloud

                ÉricÉric
                Keymaster

                  mars bending fast arrived
                  telling especially high interesting
                  somehow self rolling travel days
                  masters cackle sight ready headpiece
                  caught breath easily

                  #3800

                  In reply to: Mandala of Ascensions

                  Dispy was starting her own secret Descended Dissent Classes.

                  It was not long ago that she had a very sudden and all-encompassing revelation at one of her flights above the great tundra of Siberia, which she liked for some reason to fly over, counting the red spots made by the fly agaric mushrooms in the tundra.

                  She’d been very disturbed by the revelations about her assignment to the Mars mission. She’d genuinely thought she was in for the support of the greatest advancement of humanity since quite many decades, and to realize it was all a quite twisted experiment made her uneasy at her core. She had some profound respect for her teacher, and despite her usual impulses to immediately confront Medlik for the inherent contradictions in his self-professed compassion and wisdom talks, something in her had told her to remain quiet and observe. And more surprisingly, she had complied. And observed very attentively.

                  During her flight afterwards, the same strong impulse had told her to land in the tundra, right next to a very nice patch of red. Being ascended had the wonderful benefit she wouldn’t feel the bone chilling cold, and she could just immerse herself in the joy of the scenery, and at the same time felt all very quiet and full of love and, strangely, a sort of distant regret for not being able to feel more of the cold and the whole scenery. And in the silence, she had a sudden unraveling of reality like never before. She could see the contradictions she noticed, one after another, destroying every layer of what she thought she knew, only to be left as a silent, quiet and very aware presence. She could have stayed like this a long long time, but she felt the call for the next Ascended class, for which she was late, as usual.

                  She continued to ponder while she teleported back, and without word (again, quite unusual), formed the resolve to expose more of the truth she’d grasped. Create a fifth column for the Descended, something her old friend who liked spy fictions would definitely have loved to hear about. But for now, she would have to keep it quiet, and maintain her cover at the Order of the Ascended Masters. She’d worked quite hard (well, not as hard as many, but that wasn’t the point) to get to her coronation, so she now had a nice Light Clearance that allowed her to tap into the Coloured Light Rays. This would be helpful.

                  In the beginning, she’d thought naively that concealing her true motives and secretly recruit like-minded students would be terribly difficult, but to the contrary, she found the light to be very responsive and easy to bend into subtle illusions of the truth. In short, she could still lie very well, and quite effectively. As though the light helped her in her attempts.

                  At the moment, she just had one student, Domba. They were meeting out-of-body at a hut in Chernobyl. The place was actually quite nice, and teaming with wildlife and surprisingly gorgeous nature. The perfect hideout.

                  Her course, well, was a course in spontaneity mostly. She would help people question reality, and authority. Something she had been lightwashed to forget for awhile too.

                  Domba had a pure heart, and was full of illusions. It had been easy to recruit him. She had to start with what he brought to her. At the beginning, mostly quotes of spiritual teachers. She had to teach him to question and see by himself.

                  “The Buddha said that when we dedicate merit, it is like adding a drop of water to the ocean. Just as a drop of water added to the ocean will not dry up but will exist as long as the ocean itself exists, so, too, if we dedicate the merit of any virtuous deed, it merges with the vast ocean of merit that endures until enlightenment.” – Padmasambhava

                  That quote he brought was interesting. The idea of being a drop of water lost in the ocean was enough to make her lightskin crawl. Because it reminded her all too well of the manipulations of the ascended masters. Twisting just barely enough the Love stream, so that It would be redirected just were they wanted.

                  So they meditated on that for now.

                  #3795

                  In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                  ÉricÉric
                  Keymaster

                    Fin Min Hoot was not displeased that the interview went 87.21% successfully.

                    Kale was an interesting pick. Not particularly bright (by her standards, nobody could be anyway), but with a sense of heroism that was easy enough to manipulate.

                    The bending bots presented new defects by the hour, and no amount of counter-bending seemed to help, so they had to accelerate phase 2.33, which swayed Eb enough that he allowed the use of mild psychotropic injections to let their translator ignore the most obvious discrepancies, and avoid asking embarrassing questions.

                    All in all, it could raise even to 89.34%

                    And that was even factoring in the latest unexpected report from Finnley 21:

                    Mother Shirley died today, at an estimate rate of 3% peacefulness. Probable cause of death: brain overdose of suggestibility waves from the headpiece. Her visions will be missed.

                    #3792

                    In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                    TracyTracy
                    Participant

                      Lizette patiently waited her turn in the medical bay. Her injury wasn’t serious ~ indeed there was not much need for medical assistance, after all it was just a minor lesion on her heel, but it did make it painful to walk, let alone run, and the increasingly heated babble of conversation in the waiting room was interesting.

                      Although initially everyone had been calm and obedient, trusting the management and the system implicitly, before long the mood had changed to confusion and suspicion. Seeds of doubt crept in and were quickly fertilized by the submerged energy of fear at the unexpected disorder. Up until now, everything on MARS had been Controlled with a capital C ~ there were rules and protocol for everything, rigid regimes and timetables, a place for everything, and everything in its place. It had been stifling, to be honest, with very little in the way of spontaneity or surprises, nothing unexpected to expect but the dry tedium of calm control.

                      In a way, the meteor impact (if indeed it had been a meteor impact ~ there was much speculation in the waiting room that they had been attacked by aliens, that the management was hiding this detail from their explanations) had been a welcome diversion from routine. But a welcome diversion that was rapidly spiraling out of control. When people were confused and frightened, there was no telling how they might behave, brainwashed or not. When they were physically injured as well, panic and suspicion swiftly set in, fears and wild theories echoing around the waiting room. Add to that the trapped feeling, with nowhere to flee, and the threat of a hostile outer environment, and strange unknown beings breaking through their protection boundaries, well, it was a recipe for chaos.

                      Lizette felt herself getting caught up in the general mood, feeling roused by heated calls for a mob handed demand for answers in one moment, and chilled to the bone by the terrified screeches of the most fearful in the next; thankfully noticing in time to reactivate her personal space buffer before descending into the energy quagmire herself. The dense fog of the previous brainwashing had distorted their power of rational reasoning; Liz felt she was the only one in the waiting room with the mental capacity to weigh up the various perspectives being aired, to try and make some sense of it.

                      When Gordon popped his head into the waiting room, Lizette hobbled over to him, wincing at the pain in her Achilles heel.

                      “Gordy, a word in your ear, old man,” she started to say, and then found herself catapulted into his arms as another tremor rocked the room. “Good God, Gordon! What’s going on?” she managed to say before slipping into unconsciousness.

                      #3759

                      In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                      ÉricÉric
                      Keymaster

                        At the Monitoring Station Alpha-7, Eb Ruide was looking lazily at logs on the big screen and surveillance images.

                        Nothing ever interesting happened on MARS. Eb used all caps in his head, to distinguish it from Mars, the real Mars. But it didn’t actually matter, they only knew about MARS (Mars Animated Realistic Simulation).

                        He hadn’t been there at the beginning, but he’d heard the stories — even if all were sworn to secrecy for the sake of the world’s peace keeping, they couldn’t help but gossip among themselves. Must have been fun back then… Not a day without trying to fix something in the simulation. The lab rats were always trying to expand their perimeter, and physical and physiological barriers had to be put in place for them to help improve the simulation.

                        They were more or less all willing subjects at the time, part of the big deception. Eb didn’t know how it changed, what made them start to believe in the illusion, and start to forget. He could only assume… many didn’t believe in the world as it was, and preferred to go back to a foregone settler era where every life counted, and you could measure yourself against the big expanse of unknown land, instead of living the comfortable torpor like he was, alone in his Monitoring Station, only virtually connected.

                        Since the Aurora, it had been a bit hectic there. Actually, a big solar flare had almost frozen their equipment, and despite all the precautions, some of it filtered through the simulation. Water had leaked too, which could have been a disaster, but interestingly, it had given some of them a purpose, and all in all, it didn’t become the dreaded event they all feared. Even if all the ins and outs and communications were filtered, you couldn’t rule out a blunder. Especially with the lack of gripping activity.

                        Something biped on his screen. A red button was suddenly lit. He’d never been trained to know what the red button meant. He had to refer it to his superior. Oh God, I hope she’ll be in a good mood… Since she started her special diet and had lost so much weight, Finnley Morgan was always a bit unpredictable and snappily dangerous.

                        The irony of the ever-calm and dulcet AI named Finnley after her in the simulation wasn’t lost on him…

                        #3749
                        TracyTracy
                        Participant

                          Aunt Idle:

                          It was going to be a long hot summer. Summer this year started early, and we were barely half way through July. I hadn’t had a moment to think, which isn’t true at all ~ my brain had been non stop chuntering since the end of April, but all the thinking was about errands and other peoples problems and trips to the bloody airport or the detention centre to pick up more waifs and strays. What I mean is, I hadn’t had any time to STOP thinking and just listen, or just BE. Or to put it more accurately, I hadn’t made much time for me. It had been an endless juggle, wanting to be helpful with all the refugees ~ of course I didn’t mind helping! ~ it wasn’t that I minded helping, it was the energy and the constant stream of complications, things going wrong, the complaining and defensive energy. It was a job to buffer it all and stay on an even keel, to ensure everyone had what they needed, but without acquiescing to the never ending needy attention seeking. It was hard to say no, even if saying no helped people become more confident and capable ~ it was always a mental battle not to feel unhelpful. Saying no to ones own comfort is always so much easier.

                          What I found I missed the most was doing things my own way, in my own time. How I wish I had appreciated being able to do that before all the refugees arrived! I’d wanted more people to do things with, living in this remote outpost ~ thought how nice it would be to have more friends here to do things with. Fun things though, not all the trips to the supermarket, the bank, the pharmacy, all the tedious errands. And in summer too! I like to minimize the errands in summer so I’m not worn out with the heat to do the fun things like go for early morning walks. But this lot didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning, and they weren’t really up to much walking either. I’ve been hobbled, having to walk slower, and not walk far. It had interfered somehow with my photography too, I haven’t been much in the zone these days, that place of observant appreciation. Ah well, it was interesting. Things are always interesting.

                          Not many countries had been willing to accept the hundreds of thousands of refugees from USA, and small wonder, but our idiotic government had been bribed to take more than a fair quota. All of the deserted empty buildings in town had been assigned to the newcomers, and all of our empty rooms at the hotel too.

                          Mater hardly ever came out of her room, and when she did venture out, it was only to poke them with her walking stick and wind them up with rude remarks. Prune seemed to be enjoying it though, playing practical jokes on them and deliberately misinforming them of local customs. Corrie and Clove were working on an anthropology paper about it all ~ that was a good thing and quite helpful at times. When the complaining and needs got overwhelming, I’d send them off to interview the people about it, which took the brunt off me, at least temporarily. Bert was a good old stick, just doing what needed to be done without letting it all get to him, but he didn’t want to talk about it or hear me complaining about it all.

                          “Aint much point in complaining about all the complaining” was all he’d say, and he had a point.

                          #3700
                          ÉricÉric
                          Keymaster

                            “No, no, no, you can’t do that!” Liz complained loudly, after having read the last pages Finnley had diligently proofread. “A bag lady of all characters, can’t possibly steal the limelight from me now. Don’t forget who is the star of this reality tut tut.” She paused briefly and continued.
                            “Well, even if somebody had to care for the baby, she can’t me more mysterious and interesting than me…”
                            Seeing Finnley despondent more than her usual silent yet quipping self, she leaned forward and whispered conspiratorially “you’ve been worrying me dear, ever since you stopped thumbing up my posts on fruitloop. What has gotten into you? Let’s just hope it’s a passing fad.”
                            She poured herself another serving of quince tea, and picked a slice of lemon with a soured face. “See, my lemon diet is doing me good, you should do the same.”

                            #3663

                            In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

                            ÉricÉric
                            Keymaster

                              The young Yz looked with disbelief at the new girl. “What on Mars are you on about? Psychic archaeology? Come on Lizette, you must be joking. Barely 30 years is hardly enough to produce archaeological artefact of any interest, no?”

                              Yz had been called up to the mothership to participate in the maintenance drills, as part of the regular knowledge exchange program between Earth and Mars.
                              She was quite eager to see the central intelligence (“FinnPrime” as she liked to call it), a technology which had not yet been brought to the surface of Mars to date.

                              At first, Lizette had seemed like an interesting new friend. Very feminine and glamourous, with a flair of Earth fashion to her, something quite attractive.
                              But as soon as she started to talk, Yz realized how little they had in common.

                              That girl is going to have a tough call back to reality when we land… she thought while smiling to the giggling Lizette.

                              #3618

                              Aunt Idle:

                              Bert came with me. Usually one of us always stayed home to keep an eye on Mater and the kids, but now we had that capable girl, Finly, to keep an eye on things.

                              It was good to get away from the place for a few hours, and head off on a different route to the usual shopping and errand trips. The nearest sizable town was in the opposite direction; it was years since I’d been to Ninetown. I asked Bert about the place on the other side of the river, what was it that intrigued him so. I’ll be honest, I wondered if he was losing his marbles when he said it was the medieval ruins over there.

                              “Don’t be daft, Bert, how can there be medieval ruins over there?” I asked.

                              “I didn’t say they were medieval, Idle, I said that’s what they looked like,” he replied.

                              “But …but history, Bert! There’s no history here of medieval towns! Who could have built it?”

                              “That’s why I found it so fucking interesting, but if it doesn’t fit the picture, nobody wants to hear anything about it!”

                              “Well I’m interested Bert. Yes, yes, I know I wasn’t interested before, but I am now.”

                              Bert grunted and lit a cigarette.

                              ~~~

                              We stopped at a roadside restaurant just outside Ninetown for lunch. The midday heat was enervating, but inside the restaurant was a pleasant few degrees cooler. Bert wasn’t one for small talk, so I picked up a local paper to peruse while I ate my sandwich and Bert tucked into a greasy heap of chips and meat. I flicked through it without much interest in the mundane goings on of the town, that is, until I saw those names: Tattler, Trout and Trueman.

                              It was an article about a ghost town on the other side of Ninetown that had been bought up by a consortium of doctors. Apparently they’d acquired it for pennies as it had been completely deserted for decades, with the intention of developing it into an exclusive clinic.

                              “There’s something fishy about that!” I exclaimed, a bit too loudly. Several of the locals turned to look at me. I lowered my voice, not wanting to attract any more attention while I tried to make sense of it.

                              “Read this!” I passed the paper over the Bert.

                              “So what?” he asked. “Who cares?”

                              “Look!” I said, jabbing my finger on the names Tattler, Trout and Trueman. Bert looked puzzled, understandably enough. “Allow me to explain” I said, and I told him about the business card that Flora had left on the porch table.

                              “What does Flora have to do with this consortium of doctors? And what the hell is the point in setting up a clinic there, in the middle of nowhere?”

                              “That,” I replied, “Is the question!”

                            Viewing 20 results - 101 through 120 (of 304 total)