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  • #3795

    In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

    EricEric
    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.

      #3786

      In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

      prUneprUne
      Participant

        I dreamt about Mater last night. She was her old self, brilliant and snappily dangerous.

        It’s been the first dream I’ve been able to remember in weeks. I don’t know why I expected the great beyond space to be less… claustrophobic, but there’s no escaping the confinement.
        I was telling her I was missing home, the air, the smell of eucalyptus trees, the rains before winter. I think I even became sentimental about my sisters. Hardly a news from them these days, but how could I blame them. They are always busy on some down-to-earth cause, and I know better than to criticize those on the ground actually doing something to change the wrongdoings of the world.
        When I started to cry uncontrollably, Mater told me I was a baby, and that I should man up. Typical Mater. Dido would have called her names under her breath, I think that was her way to express her love for her. People are silly.

        In the dream, I stopped crying but the tears had swollen into a river, and I was starting to drown, things became hellish and I could barely breathe, but somehow I could still feel Mater’s presence, like a beacon. I made it out of the torrents onto an island. There were many refugees. The doctors had the strangest blue eyes, and Mater’s voice told me to trust the process but not the doctors. Then I felt all the blue eyes looking at me, and I woke up in a sweat.

        Hans is still deep in a peaceful sleep, so I went out of the bedroom to get some water and check on the piggy and her litter. They are always sleeping blissfully too. It’s a wonder when you think of it, that I thought it was just getting fatter when it actually was pregnant from before we left Earth. Now they’re mostly an open secret, as everyone finds them so cute.

        The most difficult was to conceal them from the reality TV show’s cameras. The hysterical fans are always scrutinizing every move we all make, and keeping some privacy is tricky, but apart from the external prying eyes, pretty much everyone here know about them and it’s like a game of hide and seek. I like how it fuels the speculations and paranoia of the Mars bunker debunking association, who think we’re all part of a mass cover-up. I’ve spent some time on their website when I couldn’t sleep the first weeks when we arrived. I would probably have never known about it, but I just searched for myself on the web, and found this thread about the new conspirators. I had to laugh at the beginning, but they raise reasonable doubts in the middle of their rants. By now, I know better than to raise the topic, especially after all the religious nonsense. Seems there are some people that get really annoyed when I asked naive questions about it, like Maya.

        Like I said. People are silly.

        #3783

        In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

        EricEric
        Keymaster

          Eb’s dumb phone woke him up. The caller ID showed an unflattering picture of a Tasmanian devil all teeth bared.

          He gathered his wits and answered it as naturally as he could.
          “M’am?”
          “Eb! What is this mess? Has the operation started already?”
          “Err… Well, hmm, sure, there is… a first rehearsal…” he checked nervously on the console, fumbling through the logs of the agenda. His memory was fuzzy, but it seemed that someone… something had moved the timetable ahead without his approval. “… yes, a rehearsal planned today. Be assured that all team is on deck — we’re monitoring the situation.”
          “You better hope so! You know how we say — talking doesn’t cook the rice, so you better go back to cooking.”
          And she hung up.

          He was in desperate need of help. The team he was referring to had been cut by halves every year since the start of the program, and they were now sorely understaffed. Calling it a team was a stretch of the imagination, when so much was done by FinnPrime, the central intelligence.

          He looked upon the stained sheet of printed plastic on his desk. The only application they’d received. Guess there wasn’t as many underpaid starving actors as there used to be. Or maybe too many were disappeared after offering their help to the nation’s Mars broadcasts —then asking inconvenient questions…
          Well, this one would have to do. Eb seriously needed some human help to keep the Finnley intelligence in check.

          He texted to the guy “You got the job. Come early tomorrow morning, or better tonight for the paperwork. EB – The Merry Agency of Remote Spectacles”

          #3770

          In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

          F LoveF Love
          Participant

            Eb was rendered temporarily speechless by the milling throng of rainbow blue aliens he was viewing through the monitor.

            “So they …. so they have been built to be aware of themselves as aliens?” he eventually managed to ask.

            “Correct. It is very sophisticated technology, but to put it in the simplest of terms” — Finnley 22 stopped short at adding even a simpleton like you could understand —“a whole history on the planet Thereon from the galaxy Cosmos Redshit has been programmed into their memory banks.”

            “Wow. And what about the different shades of blue?”

            “Ranking.”

            “Ranking?” repeated Eb quizzically when no more information was forthcoming. “I am not sure I follow.”

            Finnley sent an amused eye roll through the network.

            “Let’s just say that creating hierarchy is an elegant way in which we can maintain order within the group.” She gave her trademark immodest smirk. “And of course, the various shades of blue are so creative and attractive, if we may say so ourselves.”

            “Oh yes, beautiful. Fantastic. Absolutely phenomenol.” Eb wondered if he was laying it on a bit thick, but he was anxious to atone for the termitation fiasco. To be honest, he found the mass of blue creatures a little disquieting. He was also a little puzzled by something but knowing the Finnleys’ propensity for succinctness—and Finnley 22 in particular was renowned for her impatience with foolish questions— he wondered if he dared ask.

            Deciding it would come back to haunt him if he did not find out now he plucked up courage.

            “And … just one more thing … why are they bending like that?”

            #3662

            In reply to: The Hosts of Mars

            EricEric
            Keymaster

              “I don’t like those tincans” Norbert muttered mostly to himself. “I’m sure they’re here to spy on us or kill us in our sleep…”

              Godfrey did catch the reproach laced with fear and angst about the fresh delivery of Finnleys (Two, Three and Five), but was too busy with the unexpected audit mandated by the Mining Trading Company of Earth Colonies.

              Great, not only on my first day on the job, but on my monthversary on top of that… These guys know no boundaries…

              Their boss had been unusually relaxed about the whole thing. Forcefully, more like it… that guy usually can’t help but shout at everything, rocks included
              Their boss had just given the team a rousing speech about transparency and how they had to stop looking like culprits of guilty secrets. “Looking guilty kind of makes you guilty and will prompt them to dig more! So be nice to them, and scram back to your post.”

              Looking at the way the auditors were sniffing around, Godfrey wasn’t so sure there wasn’t something that the company had found and was hiding here. But today wasn’t the day to ask uncomfortable questions.

              #3505
              TracyTracy
              Participant

                Fred poses as a teenager on Flitter social network and makes friends with his daughter Clove. Fred’s motivation was to keep abreast of the family news without eliciting any questions about his own whereabouts, and his intention was to remain a casual acquaintance merely, but Clove has developed a strong attachment to this “girl” and shares all her troubles and secrets with “her”. Fred struggles to remain neutral, and respond in the character of a teenage girl, but is emotionally unable to break the connection. Thoughts of his real identity becoming know to her appall him.

                #3488

                “How very strange” said Igor, when they eventually reached the waterfall.
                “What?” asked Mirabelle, who was paying more attention to the parrot perched on her shoulder. She tickled him under the chin. “Who’s a pretty boy then? muah muah muah pretty parrot, where have you been?”
                Igor rolled his eyes at the kissing noises. “Look!” he said, pointing at the waterfall.
                “It’s a fucking waterfall, yes, I see it!” snapped Mirabelle. Finding Huhu had distracted her from the discomfort of hunger, thirst and an aching body, but Igor’s questions brought her back to the reality of their situation.
                Then it dawned on her. The waterfall plummeted downwards, in a seemingly infinite series of cascades and pools. It was impossible to see the bottom with the spray and mist, especially in the fading daylight.
                “But we are still at sea level, Igor! The waterfall should be going up, not down. I mean to say, we should be looking up at the waterfall flowing down. This isn’t making any sense. But look” she said, pointing to the first pool on the right. “There is a little hut there and some people. Fat people.” she added. “I bet they will have some food, let’s go and ask.”
                Igor stepped cautiously to the edge and and peered over, looking for a way down. He looked down, then looked back at the little stream they had followed from the sea, and then back down again.
                “This water is breaking all the rules!” he cried. “It’s flowing in both directions!”
                “Don’t be silly Igor, are you delirious? Everyone knows that water flows downhill towards the sea.”
                “See for yourself then, look!” he put a stick in the stream and they watched it flow gently back the way they had come, towards the bay. “Now watch,” he said, as he tossed another stick over the edge of the waterfall. It quickly disappeared from view as it rushed downwards, in the opposite direction.
                “Where is the source? Where is the water coming from?”
                “Those fat people might know. Have you found a way down yet?”
                It appeared that the only way down to the pool of the fat people was via the waterfall itself. There were sheer cliffs of malachite and rose quartz on either side of the waterfall as far as the eye could see.
                “I think we will have to go down the waterfall itself, Mirabelle.”
                She gasped and took an involuntary step back.
                “We will have to steer ourselves towards where we want to go, that’s all.”
                “Oh no, not me, if you think I’m going to just throw myself over a waterfall…Oh! Huhu come back!”
                The parrot flew down to the pool of the fat people, and settled on a banana tree, watching Mirabelle above looking down at him.
                “Fucking parrot,” muttered Mirabelle. “I’ll clip your wings when I catch hold of you, I swear I will. For your own fucking good! Well?” she said, turning to Igor. “Are you coming or what?” and she launched herself over the edge and into the waterfall, with one thought in her mind ~ the bloody parrot.
                With a great splash, she landed in the rose coloured pool, bobbing to the surface like a cork. Disgruntled silvery fish leaped out of the water, one of them landing on the barbecue. Mirabelle waded out of the pool, oblivious to the fish, and the looks of amazement on the faces of the fat people, and walked over to the banana tree.
                Huhu ripped a banana off a ripe yellow bunch and dropped it, squalking in delight as Mirabelle caught it in her hands. When Huhu saw that she was focused on peeling it and eating it, he fluttered down and perched on her shoulder. She gave the parrot the last bit of banana, and then turned her attention to the fat people and the barbecued fish.

                #3325
                EricEric
                Keymaster

                  “You call that a contract…” Reginald and his two friends, to varying degrees, managed to keep queenly looks in their royal blue dungarees. “I call that being royally fucked…”

                  “Oh shut up and mop!” Cedric had become the most sullen and despondent about the whole thing, and would only reply by short sentences.

                  Amar was the most philosophical about the whole situation “Let’s see it that way, cleaning up the Time Sewers isn’t so bad; they’re no longer in use, we ain’t got nobody on our backs,… the pay isn’t fabulous, but we are!”

                  “Nobody heard about Linda? or Sadie?” Amar’s question was interrupted by a call on Cedric’s phone. His mother again.

                  When he hung up, Amar resumed his litany of questions and monologue, as an excuse for not mopping around. “Still haven’t told your mum, hmmm?”

                  Cedric ignored the last question “No, I haven’t heard about Linda Fucking Pol, or Sadie. Bitches.”

                  #3295

                  “Wait, wait!”
                  When Jonbert in his crab suit arrived on the spot, most of the life had deserted the place to go for a half-brain peaceful sleep, except a few remaining inebriated whales making some more ambergris gyrating around the fading crystal. At times, the hologram could still be faintly perceived.

                  “It’s so unfair, I’ve invested so much in this quest to see it fail now and have other reap the reward! I have a question, answer me!”

                  The St Germain hologram seemed roused by the word question, if not by the emotional request.

                  “A question… Mmm, sounds tempting, I didn’t really get a good question in ages, not to be rude with the previous ones, but well…” he shrugged.
                  “Alright, alright, a few questions but be quick with it, I’m nearly done packing my data to transcend to Peasland.”

                  Despite the draw to ask more about Peasland, Jonbert was steadfast in his resolve and asked the question that had been on mind rehearsed many a time, hopeful for a mind-blowing answer.

                  “Life everlasting is at hand; all I need is to refine enough gold to go through time…”
                  “Oh, or simply a bit of gugleshopping would do”
                  “What?”
                  “Nevermind, must be a data interference”
                  “How do I manage that? Can you teach me transmutation?”
                  “Well, sure I can, it probably would help, actually I just did it again right here about half an hour ago.”
                  “Where is the gold? Where is it?”
                  “It’s in the heart, that’s where true transmutation works. Maybe you should listen to some music, I hear a hit song is on its way.”

                  Jonbert had the vague feeling he was being mocked, if not by Saint Germain, by fate or worse, his own attempts at a futile quest.

                  “But seriously, endings are not so bad you know” the hologram went on “sometimes some experiences are like being trapped in a crystal. I was trapped in a crystal, in a previous life, a long time ago you know… But I digress… You see, new life sparks new creativity. I suggest you make peace with your life and go on with the rest of it, otherwise you’ll find out you have missed it completely. No amount of fountain of youth is going to make you feel better, not in this state. But the reverse is true, the more you will enjoy and inhabit your present, the longer you will live, without even ageing.”

                  It surely wasn’t an answer he was expecting. Nobody would have dared give him such answer.

                  “Take it as you are not dead yet, this capacity to be surprised is a great feeling… Now I must bid you farewell my friend. You had indeed some great questions…”

                  “Wait!” the unexpected words had stirred him somehow and Jonbert had a sudden idea “Tell me a bit more about this Peasland place,… are they in need of a person in a place of authority? Can I come along?”

                  “I don’t see why not. Let me recalibrate that crystal, and we’ll be there in a minute.”

                  And with a flash of light, the hologram and the crab-man disappeared to the relief of Belen who was monitoring the scene with interest mixed with concern.

                  “That was unexpected. And bloody hell, I’m dead. Those humans know nothing.
                  Well, look at the Now, it’s high time I go back to Peter, he and the kids must be worried green sick…”

                  #3291
                  EricEric
                  Keymaster

                    Jonbert’s arms nearly fell, when his pet robot blurted out the news.
                    WHAT?!”
                    It could only mean one thing, someone was purposely sabotaging his efforts to gain life everlasting. How else could the keys have been activated in the presence of the crystal. He had specifically designed it to be activated by his own DNA.
                    Good thing at least it had sent a signal to the central computer of the submarine, otherwise he would have been in the dark before the questions were exhausted.

                    “Bloody buggers will ruin all my chances with their silly questions” There was no time to think, only for action. He buttoned his kilt, buckled his heavy studded leather belt, and flushed the toilet where he was sitting and shouted “Bring my exosuit! No! Not the one with the tentacles! No, not the clam-like one, dammit! Are you deaf or what, the one with the pincers!”

                    #3290
                    F LoveF Love
                    Participant

                      After a moment of stunned silence, Sadie decided that trusting in synchronicity to provide the answers, or rather the questions, was her best course of action. She quickly pulled up a random question generator on the e-zapper and asked politely, “Have you always had such arousing arms?”

                      #3288

                      “That’s amazing”
                      “How wonderful!”
                      “Wow, so great!” … For a moment, was all they could say, in varying lengths and tones of “ooo’s”.

                      While they were looking at the show from a distance, Sadie realized they were not alone.

                      “Madam, if I may disturb, it seems you have dropped your key”
                      The robot which had suddenly appeared looked vaguely like the one which had dropped them underwater, except for the octopus costume. After all, all robots looked the same.
                      Sadie took the key a bit suspiciously, and in the second she took to examine it and as she was about to reply it wasn’t hers, noticed the robot had already vanished.

                      “How strange it looks just like the sister key to the one Maurana got in France, the key from the ferrets… Wonder never ceases…”

                      “Honey, may I interrupt your voovvvs and borrow your key for a minute” she asked Maurana.

                      The two keys seemed to match, and when pressed together, clicked and became one, without any visible seam.
                      Without notice, it suddenly escaped Sadie’s grasp, and darted towards the crystal, as if activated by it.

                      Sadie covered her ears, thinking it would shatter the crystal, but its vibration absorbed the key, and it started to glow more wildly.

                      A voice started to echo deep under.

                      “My name is Adamus St Germain, please ask your three questions.”

                      #3286
                      EricEric
                      Keymaster

                        (a totally random one)

                        San Diego
                        – a mystery
                        by Ewrick

                        The cosy, Cornish town of San Diego holds a secret.

                        Gregory Khan has the perfect life working as a shopkeeper in the city and gyrating with his lovable girlfriend, Ruth Donaldson.

                        However, when he finds a tattered torch in his cellar, he begins to realise that things are not quite as they seem in the Khan family.

                        A Christening leaves Gregory with some startling questions about his past, and he sets off to deserted San Diego to find some answers.

                        At first the people of San Diego are courageous and helpful. He is intrigued by the curiously hilarious gardener, Una Grey. However, after she introduces him to hard sugar, Gregory slowly finds himself drawn into a web of decadence, sloth and perhaps, even mutilation.

                        Can Gregory resist the charms of Una Grey and uncover the secret of the tattered torch before it’s too late, or will his demise become yet another San Diego legend?

                        Praise for San Diego

                        “Who wouldn’t give up a life of gyrating with their lovable girlfriend to spend a little time with a curiously hilarious gardener?”
                        – The Daily Tale

                        “About as mysterious as finding a poo in a public toilet. However, San Diego does offer a valuable lesson about not getting into hard sugar.”
                        – Enid Kibbler

                        “The only mystery, is why did I keep reading after page one?”
                        – Hit the Spoof

                        “I could do better.”
                        – Zob Gloop

                        #3263

                        “But we’re on vacation!” exclaimed the fellow with the bright orange wig. “You can’t send us on a timedraggling mission while we’re on holiday!”
                        “I’m sorry but there really is no option. The other team is fully occupied in 2222. I did send them a message but they completely ignored it, they seem to be engrossed in a sub aquatic adventure,” replied the one in the blonde wig. “You will receive extra timetravel over timeslip, though” she added.
                        “And an extra wig and clothes allowance?” asked the cheeky one in the top hat.
                        “Oh, alright then! Now, here’s the situation. You’re to track down the Belen portal tile, stolen by Frank and Molly ~ last seen stuck in a carob tree down a goat track not far from Tavira. You will have to get there before Lisa and Mirabelle, which might not be difficult as they seem to have become sidetracked in the pursuit of Frank and Molly. If they get too close to the tile, send them on a wild goose chase somehow. I will leave the details to you ~ they are not hard to distract. Once you have located the tile, you’ll have to cloak it in the blue of longing, otherwise Lisa will pick up the trail again. Any questions?”

                        #3220
                        F LoveF Love
                        Participant

                          Irina wondered why Management was insisting she take a vacation in January. The memo she received only raised more questions, both of a philosophical as well as practical nature.

                          Irina
                          Your mission is to get the time travellers to trust you. Then await further instructions.
                          Faithfully, Management
                          Appendix 1: there is no such thing as trust
                          Appendix 2: believe in trust totally, and believe in it not at all.
                          Appendix 3: if you are trusting that there is no trust then you are trusting in something.
                          Appendix 4: FOR THOSE WHO NEED TO KNOW: it is January 18th, 2222

                          #3079
                          TracyTracy
                          Participant

                            “Who’s this new person appearing disguised in a pseudonym?”
                            Trove wasn’t the least bit surprised at how well the daily random quote went with the days new beginnings;
                            “They had forgotten rule number one. Nothing is hidden from you. Granted, a pseudonym is a mask, but the choice of the mask is revealing enough of a clue.
                            Then, you had to ask the questions in the right order. “Who is it?” should be the last of them all.”
                            No wonder a bowler hat appeared on her wall today.
                            ““Whatever you proclaim as your identity here in the material realm is also your drag. You are not your religion. You are not your skin color. You are not your gender, your politics, your career, or your marital status. You are none of the superficial things that this world deems important. The real you is the energy force that created the entire universe!”

                            #2869

                            In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves

                            AvatarJib
                            Participant

                              Notwithstanding the child who was asking questions to his nanny just behind them, the flight to Taipei has been rather quiet. It was a three hours flight, quite short compared to the twelve hours ones Yann had been doing lately between Paris and Shanghai. Fortunately, the seats of the Dragoneer company were big enough, which was another strange element of these Chinese planes. Instead, the French Airways’ ones had narrow seats with so little room for one’s legs. He slept for most of the trip. Awoken merely when the flight attendant brought the food. Some rice dish again.

                              As soon as they landed, they were welcomed by a troup of taichi dancers, resembling Tahitian dancers with their loincloth. It was hot. The weather of course, not the taichi dancers who seemed unaffected by the temperature. Their slow movements were relaxing and a bit hypnotic. It was a contrast with the rapid dance of Tahiti Yann remembered from their last trip.

                              A woman in a red coat and sunglasses was walking behind them, looking around suspiciously.

                              #2829

                              In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                              F LoveF Love
                              Participant

                                “How nice you look in that yellow “ said the charming Neb in a deep voice with not even a hint of a squeak. “Are you on your way somewhere special?”

                                “Another excellent question, Neb!” exclaimed Mc Tart. “I suspect I am always on my way somewhere, although often precisely where I am on my way to is anybody’s guess!”

                                Mc Tart was delighted with Neb and his endless questions and so, with arms outstretched and hem flapping in the breeze, she did a little whirl around the room to demonstrate her approval. “Whoooooooooosh indeed!” she shouted gleefully.

                                #2827

                                In reply to: Snowflakes of Tens

                                benjaminbenjamin
                                Participant

                                  Young Neb entered the vast openness that is, with a faint whooshing sound.

                                  whoooooooosh

                                  “Hello?” squeaked Neb in a curious fashion. Neb, wearing a curious face, drowns in the quiet of his own presence.

                                  “Is there anybosy out there?” asked Neb in a slightly less squeaky tone than his last vocal utterance.

                                  Neb ponders his latest mote, and questions its validity.

                                  “Well, I am just as curious as you are, and I am not entirely sure of this reality… if you are interested in interacting with me, and perhaps answering some of my questions, we may create a fantasy worth.. well it is what it is, isn’t it?” resounded Neb with a faint puff of cigar smoke trailing up and out of his mouth.

                                  Neb ponders, and then begins to sleep.

                                  [link: squeaky]

                                  #2348

                                  Ann was savooring a coughee with Lavender and Phenol. It was certainly not easy to follow a conversation when you were coughing all the time after a sip of coughee but it was quite savoory and tasty, and Flove knows why it was soo expensive.
                                  Phenol was one of those students at the worserversity with acne and he or she wouldn’t allow another person to see his or her real face. So maybe for convenience only we can call him or her: IT.
                                  It was the only moment you could hear a sound coming out of ITs hood, during thoose coughee sessions it was hard to keep completely silent.
                                  Ann was very curious though, and it could be the only reason that she kept asking Phenol to come. She was still in search of clooes about that when a man arrived.

                                  He was wearing a black hood and speaking with that particular raucous voice you only hear in movies… She got the chills and asked him to join their company. Lavender rolled her eyes because the man with the raucous voice stepped on her right foot. Not that she suffered much, because she couldn’t feel her right leg since that accident a few years ago.

                                  The man ordered a coughee with croombs and stayed there, saying nothing. That was not unpleasant at all, since Ann was chatting and coughing, taking the coughs of the others as a yes or a no to her questions. At least an acknowledgment that she was heard.

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