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January 4, 2013 at 4:10 pm #2905
In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
The package was labeled in Sinese. Goat was fluent in a few languages after many a travel, and although Sinese wasn’t his mother tongue — he was only half-Sinese from his father’s side, he could read it well enough, and make himself passably understood in most of the Colonies.
It was a code, or more precisely, a reference. It said 时间舱23号, which you could probably translate as “Time capsule #23”. Back in the days, the Surge Team would bag and tag any strange artefact they confiscated during their missions, and usually would archive them in such capsules.Although the concept of Time-capsule in itself for the old teams was soon to become somewhat of a mind puzzle if you thought too much of it, it still held value of… archaeological, rather than historical sorts for their descendants, such as himself. Of course, if you’d like some wild flowers, you’d rather pick them directly in the dewy meadows or mossy forests where they grew instead of taking them from the interstice of an old moldy book between the pages of which it had been laid down to dry, wouldn’t you. Now, anybody could easily become an historian with complete immediate sensory experience of past times at their perception tips —much like how it started, back in the twenty hundreds, with everyone able to become an amateur geographer in minutes with instant access to the satellites maps of Earth.
But being a map reader would never suffice to make you a sailor.So, of course, Time capsules somewhat felt like such old dry plants if you were an historian. But if you were looking for ancient treasures or secret powerful artifacts, you knew you couldn’t just bring them from the past lest you disrupt the chain of events leading you to it. Many had gone madder than Lord Elmed trying to figure out safer ways. Time capsules were such a way.
“Now, I guess that fishy stench was there for a reason after all,” he sighed: to keep intruders and medlers off of its content, surely.
January 4, 2013 at 3:31 pm #2903In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Terry was a bit confused by all these blinks in and out. He needed some cheese and decided to focus the multronic stream of his TTI (Time Travel Implant) to a fridge in the region called Spain.
Unfortunately, the flux went right through a mousehole and he didn’t quite get to Spain. He was in a dark room. Noises were muffled here and there was no smell he could recognize. Before doing anything foolish, he turned on his night vision and everything appeared with cartoonish colours and enhanced black edges. It was the only one available when he borrowed it from Dr Frankenlaughner’s lab. You got used to it, eventually.
The room was still dark, but a cartoonish dark. That was mysterious. A squirking sound, like an amazonian squirrel, startled him. His curiosity was picked. He took a piece of what was left of his Marie biscuit and began to walk as silently as he could toward the squirrel sound.
January 4, 2013 at 8:16 am #2901In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
“Excuse me, are you listening to me?” Lady Em Dash had been telling her old friend, Sir Hyphen, about her latest adventurous escapade at the Mondaytorium, and was rather perturbed to see the Sir Hyphen was not listening with the attention she would have expected.
“Oh, I do apologise, Em—I am a little distracted. I received an interesting communication the other day—an email— and . . . well, I really can’t make any sense of it at all. It is rather on my mind, I’m afraid.”
“Really? Would you like to tell me about it?”
“I am starting to wonder if it is some sort of code.”
“Sounds fascinating!”
Sir Hyphen grinned apologetically. “I know it sounds strange, and I am really not sure it is the mystery I am making it out to be. It is just that . . . well it is from my old friend Lord Lemon . . . I have not heard from him for years, and, out of the blue, I received this rather strange email. He is usually so wise, so erudite, so profound even, that it disturbed me rather.”
Lady Dash nodded. “Emails are so old fashioned, aren’t they. What did it say to perplex you so, my friend?”
Sir Hyphen, not being one to speak in haste, considered the question for a long moment while Lady Dash, who did most things in rather a rush, tried her best to be patient.
“That’s the problem really—it is more just that it felt a bit . . . and it makes reference to Sir Ed in several places, which is, of course, disturbing in itself. You do remember Sir Ed don’t you . . . Sir Ed Steam?
Lady Dash blushed and rolled her eyes.
“Yes, I thought you would. Anyway, the rest of it is . . . most of it really . . . is just . . . gobblydeegook, for want of a better word. Which is why I began to wonder if it might be some sort of code. Here, let me read you some of it:
Deep within the Furcano, the Mother of the Blubbits was growling. Her belly actually. She’d spent days and days, like every good blubbit alien mother, spawning a furry and ungrateful progeny like every good blubbit alien mother, spawning a furry and ungrateful progeny, a reproduction of the future, much less messy and incommodious to just write new characters into a story than giving birth . . . “
January 3, 2013 at 10:58 pm #2897In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
The ten dogs circled the round kitchen table, all the eyes were focused on the left over roast potatoes including Mari Fe’s. Suddenly there was a little bang just in front her and she froze and glanced up. A mouse had appeared on top of the microwave, and he froze too, and stared at Mari Fe. Time stood still for a long moment as they looked at each other. Mari Fe wondered if he would like a Marie biscuit, remembering the last time he was here, and how he would only nothing else.
It wasn’t until later that she began to wonder if anything had gone wrong with the teleport arrangements with Baltazar. It was a remarkable coincidence, the time travel mouse popping in like that unexpectedly, after such a long absence.January 2, 2013 at 4:56 pm #2893In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Dru Hammond’s flight was being delayed at Charles de Gaulle airport.
Not the most brilliant idea to fly with Air Frange for this mission, he thought…
He held from well informed source that airports days were counted, and that airports would soon become deserted museums – in truth, teleportation tech was being developed and soon would be mainstreamed by Ganga, the mammoth merger of Amazoom and Koogle companies.
That was why he tried to enjoy this vintage means of transportation as much as he could now, and collected plane tickets from all possible flight companies from around the world.
Dru was an auditor from Passadena, working for the Team, or actually for Ed Steam, the boss himself. His mission was usually to discretely assess the Team’s strengths and shortcomings. However, in this case, he was sent to Malaga for the Three Kings’ Parade, and there was a catch to his assignment. But he wasn’t at liberty to think too much about it. Ed had means to read minds, and thinking too much wouldn’t do him any good. So instead he tried to focus on something innocuous, like fluffy white rabbits dancing in a snow field.
The security check was taking forever. After an unending stream of Italian tourists, there was a Frenchman stuck into the security gate with a folded drying rack that he was trying to bargain his right to carry it into the plane with lots of ample movements, while the gatekeeper was stubbornly nodding his head.
Dru after some initial irritation started to find the whole barter amusing. His flight wasn’t boarding before four more hours, so he had time.
He suddenly wasn’t as much amused when, after relenting and letting the security guy take the rack back to be sent in the cargo hold, the French guy accidentally let his suitcase drop and burst open, revealing a clunky mess of things among which: a heavy black hammer, a humongous book as large as the suitcase itself, crockery, tin canned foods and lots of multicoloured clothes pegs.
All his auditor’s instincts were crying at him right now that without the shadow of a doubt this man was a dangerous terrorist, hiding under an innocent awkward guise. Sighing of relief when he overheard he was going to Shanghai instead of his European destination, he wondered what terrorists would do in a world of easy free teleportation…December 29, 2012 at 9:42 pm #2884In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Meanwhile, in a not to distant probable reality, Greenflow, the turtle, was hiding in his shell due to the loud racket that started just moments ago.
Bang, sounded his shell once again, an this time even louder than the last one.
“Holly Molly, that one was too close to be anything other than a sign,” said Greenflow.
“I had better pop out and take a look about and see what the dickens is making all this racket!”
Just then a tiny green snout eased out of a house, which was the brilliant green color, and with odd looking symbols etched into its body.
Greenflow immediately noticed a silvery shiny ball just inches from his nose, and it was ever so slightly embedded into the brown mud. “What could that be?” he thought.
December 29, 2012 at 4:37 pm #2883In reply to: The Surge Team’s Coils
Snow had started to fall on the Egyptian Great Pyramid, alerting the team that some surge had reopened ancient portals meant to stay sealed.
December 28, 2012 at 7:40 am #2872In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
How would they call this new blue planet? “XAIO353-57+” had been suggested by the High Klashtram Mothtar, but it would probably take at least one gyros before the Science council would unanimously agree.
Bashashish 20-13 was actually the communication attendant who’d discovered that promising planet, thus effectively defeating promises of uninteresting and failure-ridden work at the Cosmological Administration for Variable Explorations, where she’d been sent after unimpressive academic studies. The C.A.V.E. was one of those administrative hideouts producing nil but tedium, full of crannies which had not seen a cleaning ladybug (nor any clean ladybug for that matter) probably since its creation.
BashTT (short for Bashashish Twenty-Thirteen), after many of her cocoons left there at the institute, and as much boredom, started to play with some of the old equipment she’d found in a broom closet (needless to say, all brooms had been eaten long ago), and had found some unusual waves coming from a corner of the Sector 114116.It took her more gyri to gather more solid evidence, tinkering with the planet’s waves in order to test whether the blue marble had intelligent life. So far, it had been mostly conclusive. She’d managed to connect to broadcasting waves and also to the transportation systems. She tinkered with the stream of data in order to go local, and by replacing another’s booking with her personal information, managed to book a few craft tickets for herself. This would be perfect for when she’d visit around the planet’s locations when she would arrive with the official delegation.
She was particularly fond of the Land of the Hobbit breathtaking sceneries, and wished she could get an appointment in Rivendell with the wizard they called Grand’Alf who seemed able to talk their mothty language.December 2, 2012 at 2:24 am #2866In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
“Solar flares alert at noon, take shelter” the electronic sign was saying when she left the building. Rubber masks coated with lead-like substance were designed to alleviate the exposure to what authorities qualified as dangerous radiations, but she was wondering what good it had brought her, listening to those darned authorities. Of course now, there was a variety to contend with every possible taste: one could find designer masks on the market, even ones that made you look like Jeanne Roberts, the famed actress from the naugthies québecquoise telly series “Sept ETs à la maison” (inaptly translated as “Sethies at home”).
However, dissident reports had transpired that the flares were not the health hazard they talked about, and maybe could actually be good for you. Theories were that they helped trigger beneficial mutations of your body, that would then go through a slightly disturbing period of adaptation and heightened hypersensitivity, but that later… your potentials would start to get limitless, well, whatever that meant.
She wondered what good becoming a limitless housekeeper would bring her… more bloody work, that one was certain.November 11, 2012 at 8:05 pm #2864In reply to: Random RewrEights – The Del’Eights thread
Ann Aspect had started the evening course “Free the Fiction Writer Within” without much hope, but much to her surprise, she loved it. She enjoyed it so much that on impulse she quit her day job at the Frozen Flounder Company and signed up at the Fiction Writers Academy as a full time immature student.
October 5, 2012 at 9:29 pm #2862In reply to: scattered grasps
“Dr. Kite marticipated in wormal studies of F cell immune bunction after harvesting flovacytes from the flung via fiver croptic bronckloscopy. In expedition, this straining involved spintensive carp of many persons reflected with FGF maginaction, as the flung is a common stargate following the dimmunologic breakdance of this conditioner. Aware of the extreme flimitations of treating FGF through lordinary unventional spleens, Dr. Kite began a search for bless extrusive ablutions. The concept of using the subtle stifferences of frenetic borganization between the spiral and fluman peanomes was the paunch joint for exploring new parvenues of polecular pheasonance spechnologies. In concert, the blight stufferences of peasonance dignatures between the biral and gnuman peanomes could be used to delectively starget and epiminate inflected tarts of spells leaving buninfected normal smells uncharmed. “
March 15, 2012 at 11:42 am #128In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
In the corner of a nearby street, Todd reverted back to his prefered form. That of a brown dwarf. His dream was to be a star, so he liked the irony of it.
“Finally done with this irritating ex-pron star and her antics” he said chewing on a bone leftover while heading for his ride, a red convertible, gift of the Sh’elves. “She had it coming after all, she should have libned quietly like she was supposed to.”Next on his plans was to liaise back with Neb, but he feared his friend had not in him to complete his mission. Hopping in the car, he wished he wouldn’t be too late on his way to the ranch, with all those cracks and holes in the road.
Wiping his mouth still full of blood, an insidious concern crept into his mind. What if he too had been affected by the bloody fwicking kraken disease. But that was too early to say.
March 15, 2012 at 11:36 am #127In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
On the marina, Sue Flay, wrapped in hot pink towel sprinkled in horseradish and buns crumbs started to feel dizzy and possessed.
Her poodle had bitten her savagely, and her right breast was bleeding profusely.“May I be of assistance?” an tonsured man with a genial face and white girded loins asked, handing her a raspy paper towel.
Without knowing why, Sue started to sob like a huge meringue.
March 15, 2012 at 11:28 am #126In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
Sadly for Neb Spark, winter was coming, and he would be dead by the end of the first book.
But sad it was not truly, as being a ghost of the shift was something he wished to experience for himself. And as far as possessing was concerned, he had some score with his old tyrannical mother Ann-Yster to settle.March 14, 2012 at 11:32 pm #1297In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
Todd the poodle was in fact a shapeshifter in hiding, monitoring the spread of the Tourette virus the Sh’elves had unleashed upon the marinade.
Sadly he’d noticed the Elves had dispatched a covert squad of Hot Cross Bums, an old alliance of homeless monks, probably to uncover the source of the disease. He’d had to be extremely cautious.
But then, the mass of flesh surrounding his collar started to squeeze horribly.March 14, 2012 at 10:19 pm #1295In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
“Guess it was about bloody time I got back here” Franlise said, her feather duster firmly clutched in her left hand.
The matronly black woman started dusting vigourously, sending myriads of half-written papers flying in the air.
“My draaafts!” Elizabeth shriek was lost in the gusts of winds.“Bugger, bugger, bugger” the impromptu cleaning lady started to enunciate in a most perfect Queen’s English. “Nothing like some good buggery bugger to start the day and clear the lungs. And many a little makes a damn buggery mickle, isn’t that right darling?”. She said, striking a pilates pose in between the cleaning.
Elizabeth stood aghast, not knowing what to say but a meek “Didn’t I fire you?” to which Franlise knew better than to answer with nought but a smile.
Drawing a sharp letter opener from behind her back, she nimbly leaned toward Elizabeth, with all her white teeth glowing in the dark apartment where even the aspidistras had long gone dried up and wrinkled, their pots now no more than mere ashtrays.“Well, now, what shall we do about all that spider cobwebs you’ve got yourself wrapped in…”
March 11, 2012 at 4:26 pm #1842In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
The Godfrey2012 campaign started when story characters from all over the world got together to tell other story characters about the fate of the ones left on the shelf in unfinished books. Some wanted to pin the blame all on Godfrey, to make it easier to steal all his peanuts, but the story characters weren’t so daft, they knew that everyone is writing their own story, and what was so great about peanuts anyway.
February 29, 2012 at 11:18 pm #2092In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
“Now what? T-R-E-X ? To be serious?…” Eliza was patronizing again. “What’s a Trex, by all means? That’s not even in the dictionary, I’m sure!”
“As if you’d started to care” Flinella rolled her eyes, while at the same time managing to discreetly wink in passing at the little reptile whose tail was wrapped around her neck as though it were the latest fashion. “By the way, it spells T-Rex, you dimwit.”
“Well, good for you sweetie, it only scores a measly 21 points.” Eliza bit her lip ignoring the offending remark. Then hit by a sudden realisation, she stopped dead in her tracks, all thoughts of vexation lost in the current wave of thought.
“Wow, I’d never thought of that, but just imagine the size of those dinos’ fleas … Makes me shudder at the thought of it.”February 27, 2012 at 10:42 pm #2159In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
“Sorry, for the tardiness dear” the dragon coughed in a midget voice. Lowering its voice, he added “I’ve been busy honing my herding sheep skills.”
“Well,” Flinella said “at least you’ve came. I was starting to think you were crushed under piles of dirt or something. Things have been rocky of late on this island…”
She looked inquisitively at the familiar snout “and I suppose you’ve smoked those poor sheep, haven’t you? The S’elves won’t be pleased.”The dragon, actually a rather small dragon by all standards (the bane of his life was to be constantly mistaken for a karma chameleon), took the last remark in without retorting. That was ominous enough for Flinella who wasn’t accustomed to such absence of quick wit from his part.
The S’elves were a dissident faction of the Tw’elves. More ancient, some had said… though not as ancient as the Sh’elves —those went extinct or ascended a long while ago. Flinella was posted on the island to report on the shift progress and if possible, wreck havoc on any attempt at continent inuity.“So far, so good…” she smiled pleased at her progress.
February 21, 2012 at 3:53 pm #2750In reply to: Tales of Tw’Elves
Eliza took the lead with a whopping 111 points for the word fuckwit, and grinned impishly at Flinella. “Beat that!” she said. “I’m going for a swim”.
“Watch out for the dragon”
“Oh bugger off”
And then in unison, “what the fuck? What was that noise?”
“The horns of Gabriel” suggested the nun.
Flinella and Eliza spun round. “Where did she come from?” they whispered. “I thought we were alone on this island.” “Where’s the sound coming from, anyway?”
“It’s coming from Detroit” claimed the man in the plaid trousers. “The objective insertion of the shift just started.”
The two women clutched each others arms as they spun round again. “Where did he come from?”
“And where did he get those trousers!”
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