<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711</id><updated>2012-01-17T15:05:36.474-08:00</updated><category term='Secret System'/><category term='CountdownToHalloween'/><category term='Short Entries'/><title type='text'>Mysterious Adventures in the Secret System</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>37</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-7032538458399368236</id><published>2010-11-11T11:04:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T11:06:28.267-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 24 - Trash Collector</title><content type='html'>Louis was a trash collector. Everyday he'd dress his work suit, drink his cup of morning coffee, and drag himself into the street. There he's hop into the first car with a empty seat and sleep for a while until they reached the work city. His tower was the third on so he would normally walk there if it wasn't raining. When it rained he'd take the automatic sidewalk, squished by the thousands of workers trying to be on their desks on time. On this particular day, it wasn't raining so Louis walked outside to the door. He climbed into the elevator after being validated by the security devices, and stepped into the cubicle maze. After five years there he could find the way with closed eyes, straight ahead for ten cubicles, turn left and walk past five more, turn right and it's the fourth on the right. He takes the coat off, putting it in the hanger, sits down at his desk, turning his terminal on.&lt;br /&gt;  The screen has only 5 icons, one in each corner and one in the middle. On the top left a email client, bottom left the information browser, bottom right the music player and on the center the control program. He put on the glove and taped the top right corner of the screen, entered the time and day, closed the application, tapped the email, dragged all the union communications to the deleted folder and read the only important email : the route for the day. He dragged the bullet list with the name of streets into the second screen that had been black until now, found the little box with his wireless ear pods, put them on and tapped music, tapped random, tapped play and dragged the player to the second screen too.&lt;br /&gt;   When all was ready he tapped the central icon, checked what the starting point was, selected the nearest available Tele-guided Garbage Collector Vehicle and started driving it to the first pickup point. Driving was done with the gloved right hand by leaning it in the correct direction, so anyone looking would see a grown up man waving his hand in front of a screen, looking bored to the moving dot on the map, checking for collisions on the four cameras, making sure none of the 41 status indicators turned yellow, or god forbid! red. Once the TeGaCoV reached the first pick up point Louis closed and opened his hand in a swift movement, the vehicle stopped and the screen changed. Instead of the map, the central part showed the view from the crane's camera, that the glove now controlled. He could do it in less than a minute now, bu the first time he had to pick up a trash can and empty it to the truck it took him almost thirty minutes. Now his hand would mimic the crane, grabbing the trash can, calculating exactly when he needed to tip it off, and doing so.&lt;br /&gt;    After emptying all of the trash cans in the crane's range, he once again closed and opened his hand, cycling to movement mode, and drove the truck to the next pick up point. He was operating in a link he had never been worked on before, so when he saw a men wearing nothing but a loincloth and a huge axe, he dismissed it as 'some local costume'. Until the barbarian ran into the vehicle and started hitting it with the axe. Little yellow and red lights started to blink, and the TeGaCoV entered automatic mode, backing up and running away. Once the truck was safe inside the hangar, Louis tapped the 'report incident' button hidden inside one of the menus.&lt;br /&gt;     "Vehicle attacked by barbarian retreated to hangar. Request orders." he typed into the "describe your problem" box after finding the keyboard under the stack of newspapers, and tapped submit. The 'estimated resolution time' was above twenty minutes so he got off of his chair and went to bar. There he met three other coworkers, one of them trying to convince the others that a crazy man dressed as a barbarian had trashed his trash collector truck. Louis chipped in with "It happened to me too. Which link were you working on?". His coworker replied with the link code, and Louis nodded a "me too". The others were looking at them with a 'I don't believe a word of that' face, that only got away when another guy entered, and before anyone asking him he goes "I was working on RD-13-01F, when a crazy guy attacks my damned tegacov with a bloody axe". Louis and the other one both turned and went "SEE?" to which they finally agreed something strange was happening. Later, a internal memo was sent to every employee, saying that the link with the code RD-13-01F would no longer be cleaned by their company due to a 'change in regime'.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-7032538458399368236?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/7032538458399368236/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/11/entry-24-trash-collector.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7032538458399368236'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7032538458399368236'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/11/entry-24-trash-collector.html' title='Entry 24 - Trash Collector'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-687402464480582060</id><published>2010-11-04T08:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-11-04T09:04:31.257-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 23 -  The Case of the Wrong Address</title><content type='html'>When I woke up she wasn't there in bed so I got up, grabbed a robe and dragged my feet into the bathroom, and she still was nowhere to be seen. After the bath and shaving, she arrived, with bags of groceries.&lt;br /&gt;  "Hello my love, I brought us breakfast. Come to the kitchen when you are dressed."&lt;br /&gt;  I did as ordered, and met her at the table. Our house is huge compared to the one I had before. Two bedrooms, a small library, a living and a dinning room, kitchen and bathrooms. It even had a small backyard, "for our kids to play" she had said when we chose this one.&lt;br /&gt;  After bringing down The Order of Horus we found ourselves very comfortable in finances from the rewards. Jewels, cars, weapons and criminals had gone to their rightful place.&lt;br /&gt;   It had been incredibly easy to bring down the cult with her help. She had infiltrated the cult to steal the Eye of Horus, and she knew who it was that I had to arrest to bring the cult down. It crumbled like a card castle that has had one of it's foundations removed.&lt;br /&gt;    I still found it hard to believe only five month had passed since that day I found her in my office. I still have the office, but now the rest of the floor is also mine. I don't work alone anymore, I'm the Chief Investigator of the Private Investigators Agency, and five other investigators work with me. Tommy and James are both ex-cops, that decided they wanted to make a bit more money. Frances is a lovely woman, getting close to old age. She was married to a police detective for years, until he was brutally killed three month ago. She alone unraveled the circumstances of his death, and succeeded in solving a case that was baffling the police. So I gave her a job. Marlon was a PI already, but when I opened the Agency he offered to join. And the last of them is Sam. Sam is a kid, early twenties, fresh out of one of the best colleges in the system, and a brilliant mind. I call her She-Lock, but she doesn't understand why, since for some reason, Arthur Conan Doyle's classics were never published in her link. I intend to give her a copy of the Complete Sherlock Holmes as soon as I find one.&lt;br /&gt;    Stella helps me out at the office, and it feels wonderful to work with the woman I love, to wake up next to her everyday, and to see her smile whenever I look to the side. I had forgotten what it meant to be in love ever since I came into the Secret System... I was married once, I'm not even sure if I still am married in the "real world". This world is more real than what ever world I was in before I came here. I used to miss them, my old family, but now I'm too happy to think about those things. Stella once asked me where was it that I came from, after reading my notebooks, but I never got around to answer. It still isn't easy to think back to that day, and for now I don't want to. But it is part of my story, part of who I am, and of why I am here, so eventually I shall write it down.&lt;br /&gt;    Where was I going? Oh, I know, the case of the wrong address. That one should give you, the silent reader that I still feel looking over my shoulder, a idea of the power of the PIA.&lt;br /&gt;    It was one of James informants that tipped us out to that one. A old man got a letter for some other person with the same name as him, but a different address. There had been some mistake at the post office and the letter ended in the sack of one mailman that happen to know the old man. So he saw the name and delivered it, not noticing the address was wrong. So far, nothing that would be of interest for the PIA, except that inside the envelope there was only one photograph. A picture of a dead body and a note on the back "You are next. Love, Mimmy". Now, the old man, Philip, knew no one that went by the name Mimmy, not did he recognize the dead body. His reaction was to go to the police, but they dismissed it as a bad joke. But one of them kept a copy of the picture and showed it to James that showed it to me, and we had a case. The old man wasn't very rich, but even so, when we contacted him he said that he would pay if we helped him out. He was freaked out by the picture and by the idea that someone else might die.&lt;br /&gt;    The first thing we did was check up on the real recipient. There was no Philip K. Grill in Allyson Street. Shelock checked the entering records of Dark City and there was only one person with such a name, the old man that received the letter in the first place. I had Tommy, James and Marlon search other links for the second Philip. It took us two weeks but we tracked him down, in a low-tech link, going by a different, although not very imaginative, name. Shelock made contact and after convincing him she knew him not to be John Doe but Philip Grill and explaining the situation, he agreed in helping us track down and arrest Milly.&lt;br /&gt;    Milly had been his high school sweetheart and the dead man was their partner in the business they opened after college. They kicked Milly out of it because they suspected her of stealing money. A few months later his partner appears dead in his house and Philip decides it's time to start a new life somewhere else. Knowing her real name and last known address it was easy to find and capture her. She confessed and both Philips now life in peace and without fear.&lt;br /&gt;    So if you ever have a nagging interrogation, no matter how irrelevant it might seem, come and question the Private Investigators Agency at the Dark City. We take and solve all cases for a affordable price.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-687402464480582060?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/687402464480582060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/11/entry-23-case-of-wrong-address.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/687402464480582060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/687402464480582060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/11/entry-23-case-of-wrong-address.html' title='Entry 23 -  The Case of the Wrong Address'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4215190471235838865</id><published>2010-10-27T10:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T11:03:07.992-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>Old Lady</title><content type='html'>Night. A woman, old. She lives alone in that house. It used to be a small house, many a year ago, when her sons ran around, playing, screaming, singing, laughing, crying. The sons are gone. All the six of them. The older boys she lost to war. The rest married and went to the city, where there are opportunities and work. On the old town only the elder still live, in houses like this one, of wood and rock. She lived there all her life, gave birth to her sons there and raised them there. Her husband, now long dead, had been born not too far, second son to a farmer family. He left the town only for war, not the one that took her sons, the one before. The day he left, he asked her in marriage, and two years later was back to keep his promise. Sometimes she looks at the ring in her finger and smiles, remembering. She lived alone, not even a pet to keep her company. It is just her, the house and the ghosts. She knows them quite well, been living with them for so long. There's Creaky, that makes doors creak, Drippy, that makes faucets drip, Howlly, that howls at night, The One In The Cellar, and so many more. More than once she tried to count them, but she always loses count somewhere between fifteen and twenty. Right now, as we speak, she is on the kitchen. The radio is on, playing some old thirties music and she's mixing the soup while keeping up with rhythm. When the music ends, she tastes the soup and serves a plate. She sits at the old table, eating the soup slowly. Music still plays and the tablecloth dances to the sound of it, the old woman rises her plate, and it leaves the table to dance more freely. She is watching, the soup getting cold on the plate, and the white cloth dances, changing shape to the music's beat, now a Elvis classic. A knock on the door and the tablecloth flies back to the table. The woman gets up and walks to the door, stops right before reaching it, and waits for it to open by itself. It's the next door neighbor, asking for salt. The old lady reaches for the a salt package that has been traveling to her hand for a few seconds already, and gives it to the old man "keep it" she says "I have more". With a smile she closes the door and gets back to the table. The cloth resumes it's dancing and keeps her company until it's time to sleep.&lt;br /&gt; Morning. The house stands in the middle of nothing worth of mention, the neighbor's house some ten minutes away, walking time for a young man. The old lady is already up, in the back of the house, overseeing a pair of gloves that are picking up parsley and oregano and other assorted herbs. She isn't talking but the sound of the radio plays in the distance. The little basket where gloves have been placing the herbs flies to her. She looks inside, smiles and says "That should be enough. Can you get me some garlic too?" The gloves go a bit further away and return, each holding a garlic bulb, drop them inside the small basket and clap themselves clean. The woman now goes back inside, where a couple of knifes are busy taking the spines and skin off of a big fish. She sits down, asks one of them to turn the music's volume down, asks another to grab the old metal cauldron. She conducts them into cutting the fish, the herbs, the vegetables, the potatoes, and placing them inside the cauldron, previously filled with water and put in the fire that began some when in between.&lt;br /&gt;  Early afternoon. The cauldron still stands over the fire, a spoon mixing the food inside. The old woman is no where to be seen in the kitchen. The kitchen has a door to the outside and another one that leads to a small corridor with a door on each end only that connects to the house. A living room, a small bathroom, a guest room and stairs going up. Up we find another corridor, with sleeping rooms on each side and another flight of stairs leading upper, to the attic. She is there, sitting on the floor, surrounded by trinkets, books and closed chests. She cries over a picture of her dead husband. One of the chests opens, and out of it clothes fly away. A army officer's uniform stands in front of her, salutes her, and then extends a hand, inviting her to dance. "There is no music." The old vinyl collection stirs, and one of the records comes out of it's sleeve, landing on a ancient looking gramophone. The small crank starts spinning, and the music begins. A waltz. Not any waltz, her first dance at the weeding night. She dances for a while, until the sun slowly goes behind the hills. She now smiles instead of crying, and goes down the stairs happily.&lt;br /&gt;   Dinner time. A car stops at the door,  on of those fashionable SUVs, dirt covered but recent. A woman sits inside while a man, on his early thirties, exits trough the other door. He goes around the car, opens the door to his wife and helps her out. Then they go the old house, he with happiness in his face, she with obvious disgust, always looking down, making sure she didn't step on a puddle of mud. The old lady waits them at the door, a real smile shinning on her lips. "Welcome my love!" she says. The man kisses her cheeks and enters. The two women greet each other. The old one with warmth and love, the young one with nothing but a fake smile. "Aunt" - the young woman says - "you should really move. This old house is too big for you! Don't you feel lonely?"&lt;br /&gt;   The old lady smile widens as she replies, winking at her son "No, not really. The ghosts keep me company."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4215190471235838865?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4215190471235838865/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/old-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4215190471235838865'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4215190471235838865'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/old-lady.html' title='Old Lady'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4430119460573350878</id><published>2010-10-27T02:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-27T03:03:36.966-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>Boxes in the Basement</title><content type='html'>Hidelbert Preston was a normal fifteen year old. He hated his father once a week, his mother twice. He couldn't stand Aristides, the ten year old little brother, yet if you asked him he'd say that he loved the little kid. Today was a "I hate my father" day. Unfortunately it was also a "I hate my mother day" and damned Aristides was being annoying as hell. All Hidelbert wanted was to go to the Halloween party.&lt;br /&gt; "But all the kids are going!"&lt;br /&gt; "If all the kids jumped off a bridge would you jump too?"&lt;br /&gt; "But I already have the costume!"&lt;br /&gt; "Maybe you should have consulted your mother and I before buying it, then."&lt;br /&gt; "But.. Mom! I'm Fifteen! Tell dad I can go!"&lt;br /&gt; "If dad says no, then no it is."&lt;br /&gt; It never went anywhere. Dad was already back to his newspaper, and mom was more interested in the soap opera. Aristides was running around the house, dressed in his Mega Man costume, shooting nerf balls to whatever moved : mostly the dog, but once or twice his older brother. Hidelbert just turned his back on the smaller kid and went into the basement. Dad didn't like him to go down there, but it was the only place in the house where he could feel at peace. He went down the stairs, pushed the light cord and sat between the bookshelf and the Christmas decorations, as always. Picking a book at random, he opened it and tried to read. Anger wasn't letting him focus, and after a few minutes of reading the first sentence over and over again, he threw the book into the far reaches of the basement. Hidelbert had been down there countless times, but he never explored the room. It was as big as the rest of the house, filled with books, gardening tools, old clothes, assorted computer parts, and lots and lots of boxes, "Zachary Preston personal effects" written on them. Above the handwritten letters, a shield Hidelbert had learned was from dad's old military division. Once he had asked mom about it, and she made him promise he would never ask dad about it. "Dad was in the army long ago. He left when he met me, and he doesn't like to remember those times" "Why does he keep those boxes then?" Hidelbert wanted to ask, but something in the way mom's face turned sad while she spoke of it made him change his mind. The shield itself was spooky : a raven holding a skull in it's claws.&lt;br /&gt; Since he was hating both his parents that day, he decided to open one of the boxes and see what was it that his father kept. All boxes were numbered, and he decided to go for box 3, because he liked the number. It was a regular cardboard box, sealed with tape. He carefully ripped it open, revealing a bunch of simple notebooks. He grabbed the first one, opened it randomly and read :&lt;br /&gt; "subject 4 still shows a strong appetite and no signs of fatigue. Test subject 5 almost doesn't eat and refuses to respond when questioned". He flipped a few pages and read : "Kludsu mated with Amberlea again last night. After seeing the tapes it seems as if it was Amberlea that lured Kludsu into her room, even after the talk we had last night. I believe she wishes to reproduce. If she finds the formula I shall have to recommend that she is euthanized". He grabs another notebook, from three months later, opens randomly again and reads "Amberlea still refuses to eat. It's been one month since we had to kill Kludsu. We've been force feeding her and she bit a technician yesterday. He will now be referred as test subject 23. He is stable so far, but shows signs of fatigue. I checked the records and test subjects survived for a average of 42 hours after being bitten. The longest is still test subject 5, that survived for 89 hours."&lt;br /&gt;  Hidelbert was each time more morbidly curious. It seemed that his father had been researching with humans, under government jurisdiction. But human testing was forbidden. And who was Amberlea? Was she human too? If so, why would her bite kill? He looked for box 1, opened it and searched for the first of the notebooks. Opening it on one of the first pages he read : "... all the ingredients. We should be ready to begin the summoning in two days". A few pages ahead : "Success. We summoned one. Doctor Ramul named him Zardox." Hidelbert skimmed over the entire notebook, and found nothing on what he was searching so he picked another one, and another one, until he found a entry about her : "I named her Amberlea. She is a perfect example. Her fangs retract, and she looks human." The rest was mostly clinical information and didn't matter to him.&lt;br /&gt;  He put the notebooks back into the box, closed it and looked around. The boxes were numbered from 1 till 28, and 4 boxes with letters : K, R, S e Z. He picked box K and opened it. He jumped back and gave a very unmanly scream when he saw the bones inside. He took several deep breaths and looked again. The bones looked as if they had been thrown inside the box without care. The skull was buried in the other bones, and Hidelbert could only see it's top. So he closed his eyes and reached to pull it out. It was almost human, if it were not for the jaw. The canines were as big as Hidelbert's thumb and hollow. He dropped the skull inside the box and was about to close it again when he saw something shinning inside. He grabbed it and saw that it was a ornate metal bracelet with the name 'Kludsu' on it. It reminded hm of something but he couldn't remember what. He put the bracelet in his pocket and closed the box. He then turned around to find a pair of shadows standing between him and the door.&lt;br /&gt;   Again he screamed, until he realized it was just mom and dad probably alerted by the noise before. Dad was sad, with a disappointed look on his face. "How many times have I told you I don't like you coming down here?"&lt;br /&gt;   "Dad... What was it that you did for the military?"&lt;br /&gt;   "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!"&lt;br /&gt;   "TOO LATE FOR THAT DAD! I read the notebooks. Human experimenting? And what was Kludsu? Was Amberlea a beast too?"&lt;br /&gt;   Dad slapped Hidelbert with all his strength, sending the teen to the floor. Mom was standing next to dad, silently, looking to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;   "Don't you dare calling her a beast!"&lt;br /&gt;   "They weren't human. You said so yourself! What were they? Animals?"&lt;br /&gt;   Mom looked at him, shock in her face. She lift her hand, as if to slap him, and Hidelbert remembered why was it that the metal bracelet he saw on the box seemed familiar. Her mother had one too. He couldn't see it from here, but he felt sure he knew what was written on it : Amberlea. Dad was crying now, holding his son by the shoulder : "This.. You shouldn't, you.. DAMN YOU STUPID KID!"&lt;br /&gt;   He escaped his father's clutch and pulled Mom's arm down with one hand, removing the bracelet with the other. Dad kicked him in the chest, throwing him to the floor "FUCK!" he screamed "WHY YOU FUCKING BRAT?"&lt;br /&gt;   The basement door opened and Aristides looked down, still in his costume, as shoot a nerf ball to Mom. She had been silent since Hidelbert removed the bracelet, a smile forming one her lips, slowly. When the ball hit her she turned her torso to the door, without moving her feet, opened her mouth, revealing huge teeth and with hunger in her eyes, she jumped. In one movement she grabbed the younger kid's head, jerked it to the side and stuck her fangs on his neck. After draining one, she jumped back to the floor, grabbed dad by the neck, and laughing, blood dripping from her teeth, covering her face and dress, lifted him. Dad was scared beyond words while she spoke, slowly "You thought you could keep me constrained forever? Sooner or latter you would die. This stupid kid only sped it up. And as a reward, he shall die last." She opened her mouth to a abnormally immense size and bit half of dad's head off. That was the last thing Hidelbert saw before fainting.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4430119460573350878?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4430119460573350878/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/boxes-in-basement.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4430119460573350878'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4430119460573350878'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/boxes-in-basement.html' title='Boxes in the Basement'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-6832655378131107067</id><published>2010-10-25T10:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-25T10:56:06.672-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>the fall</title><content type='html'>They were falling,into a shapeless, colorless, soundless void. He couldn't see nor hear her but he knew she was there, falling with him into the nothingness. They fell for hours, days, years, centuries. and then, he woke up. Sweating, crying, confused and lost, he reached for the light switch. It wasn't there. That was when he remembered where he was, and that she was there with him. The shades were down, and no light came from the outside. Above her alarm clock, one of those new hologram models, the time rotated slowly, 04:04, the only thing he could see in the dark bedroom. He found his communication gauntlet on the bedside table and put it on. The light yellow light showed him she was sleeping, calmly. His clock was, as usual, 5 minutes ahead, 04h10m now showing in the LCD screen. He got up, and using the small light, found his way till the bathroom. He remembered her flatmate just after passing by the room's door on the way back, dressed in socks only. He went back into her room, fumbled on his trousers pocket until he found the battered pack. Three left. He shrugged, tomorrow, no, later today, he'd get more. Taking one out, he sat on the floor, a ashtray next to him, the wall behind his back, and he smoked.&lt;br /&gt;  The nightmare forgotten he got back into bed, cautious not to wake her. He gently put the communicator back on the bed table and waited for it's light to go out before closing his eyes again. The hologram now rotated a 04:20, and his eyes focused on the red numbers while closing. He kept seeing the numbers even after being deep asleep. He woke up hours after with a gentle kiss on his shoulder, her lips inviting him to wake up and continue what had begun late last night. "I had a horrible nightmare" - she said - "help me forget it". He replies something, still not awake. Only after, both lying on their backs, his hand playing with her hair, did he say "I had a nightmare too. We were falling into the darkness. For what seemed like forever." She looked at him, a weird look in her eyes "Did I speak about my dream in my sleep? That was exactly what I dreamt to. You heard the voices?" Now it's his turn to look at her with weirdness in his eyes "I heard nothing. It was as void of sound as of sight." She is getting up, looking for clean underwear in the drawers, and talking back "Well, yes, it was all dark and silent, until I hit the ground. I felt no pain, no nothing."&lt;br /&gt;  "I never did hit the floor. I woke up when I was about to it, or just after. I'm surprised I didn't wake you up."&lt;br /&gt;   "When I'm tired I can sleep through a volcano erupting. And I was pretty tired last night" - she winced at him, a naughty smile in her lips - "Any way, after I stopped falling, I found myself emerged in darkness, and, as if very far away, I heard a voice. Too faint to understand what it was saying at first, but it came closer. It sounded like it was reading from a book, in monotonous voice." - Her voice turned to a dry tone as she quoted the dream - "From darkness you came, to darkness you shall go. From nothing you were created, into nothing you shall be turned. From the void came your soul, to the void it shall return" - she was dressed by now, sitting at the feet of the bed, a unlit cigarette in her mouth. He reached for his lighter, still where he'd left it, in the bed side table. The room was light only by the small lamp on her side of the bed, the shutters still pulled down. She got up, walking to the window, now smoking, and continued -"That wasn't even the worst part of the dream. The worst part was when the voice, that now seemed to be whispering on my ear, said that I would never wake up, I was forever stuck in the dream since I started falling. Silly right?" - she asks, pulling the blinders up to reveal darkness outside. The hologram numbers now shone a red 11:47 yet outside the window there was no light. Only a black void.&lt;br /&gt;   He runs to the door that connected the room to the rest of the house, opens it, relieved to see that the living room is still there. But there too the windows look to the void. He's still dressed in socks only, but that doesn't stop him. He takes a few seconds to unlock the door, and she's now next to him. The door lead to nothing. Nothing but a black void. He screams, but the sound goes nowhere. She puts a foot outside the door, but he pulls her in - "Wait!" They go to the other side of the house. Her flatmate wont answer his room's door, so she opens it : there is nothing there. The bathroom is there, since he went there. The kitchen isn't. She runs back to her room and returns with a book in her hands - "I never liked this damned book"&lt;br /&gt;    "I gave it to you, remember?"&lt;br /&gt;    "Yeah, well, sorry. At least it will be useful now."&lt;br /&gt;    She opens the door once again, and drops the book. It disappears in the black void as soon as it leaves her hand. No sound ever comes to their ears. Eventually he closes the door, and with his arms around her shoulders, takes her back to bed - "I only have two more cigs. Damn" - he hugs her, and pretends not to notice her tears. At the same time he promises her that next time he wakes up from a bad dream he's going to the kitchen, so that there is food when he wakes up. She laughs, a half-hearted laughter only. "It's all your fault, I don't know how or why, but it is." - He shrugs, mutters a 'maybe' and falls silent again. "We are asleep, right?" he asks. She has no answer for him, and we wasn't expecting one "So let's wake up! Slap me. Slap me hard." She slaps him, without any strength at all. "Harder!" She does it again, and again, until his face is red, and tears of pain roll down his cheeks - "Stop! It's no use."&lt;br /&gt;     She takes off her clothes again, goes under the bedsheets and curls in a ball. He stays there, looking at her, waiting for her to fall into the sweet oblivion of dreams again. A hour of silence later he calls her, in a low voice. She says nothing, so he gets up of bed, grabs her in his arms, and walks to the front door. He kisses her lips gently and jumps.&lt;br /&gt;     They were falling...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-6832655378131107067?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/6832655378131107067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6832655378131107067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6832655378131107067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/fall.html' title='the fall'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-3697055817713600285</id><published>2010-10-22T09:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-22T09:12:21.748-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>swords and spells</title><content type='html'>I met her in a inn. Yes, I know, that never happens and all, but it's true. I was just in my favorite inn, The Broken Sword, having a pint and kicking back the stress. In enters this strange fellow, in a black cloak, his hood pulled all the way to his nose. The perfectly trimmed white beard and the huge ring in his left index finger were proof enough that he was rich. The Paladins following him, hand in sword, protective pose, ready to strike down anyone that looked at their master were proof that he was from the church. So a Bishop, or a Cardinal. He went to the middle of the inn, took a pair of gold coins and dropped them in the floor. "I need the strongest warrior here for a mission" he said. It's no secret that The Broken Sword is a inn for mercenaries. The owner, old Olaf, was one too in his days : "Big Sword" Olaf. Then he broke his sword in a mission and decided it was enough. The big sword that gave him his fighting name now gave name to the inn. It was over the bar, broken halfway through the blade.&lt;br /&gt; I was alone, but I knew most of the people in there. "Red Eye" Sullivan, "Poison Dagger" Ansoku, Ginny "The Arrow" Hold, little Frank, among many others I had either worked or partied with.&lt;br /&gt;  So when she got up, a brown haired beauty in a fit leather armor, with a green cloak and a strange wooden gauntlet in her hand, I was curious. She went to the church man and said "You can't get someone stronger than me". He didn't seem that much impressed. When "Crazy Barbarian" Gulg'r got up, his axe almost as big as the woman, wearing only his iconic loin cloth, made from the skin of the most fearsome wolf in the Tundras he himself had killed unarmed, she looked at him and smiling said "you think you can beat me, barbarian?". That's not the right thing to say to a crazy barbarian. Barbarians are a proud race. The call themselves the strongest fighters in the world, and what she questioned his power. Another barbarian might have thought about the church man, or the paladins, or about injuring another of the inn clients, or, at least, about the money. Gulg'r, at the time, couldn't care less for all those things. He had been challenged. By a tiny girl without weapons. He jumped to her, axe in both hands over his head, and if she was a normal fighter, even a good army fighter, the duel would have been over by then.&lt;br /&gt;  But she was good. A step to the side, fast, and Gulg'r had a wooden spike pointed at his heart when he got up. The spike appeared in the gauntlet, and disappeared as soon as the barbarian dropped his axe. She laughed, looking at the hole in the floor where the barbarian had hit with the axe "That was one mighty blow. Had I been slower and there wouldn't be much left of me now!". Gulg'r didn't react to her words of praise, he just grabbed his axe, and went away.&lt;br /&gt;  The church man was pleased. "Are you all afraid of the lady?" he said "There's a lot of money at stake for this mission. But she's too strong, right, this little girl is too strong for you all." He was enjoying it, teasing the other mercenaries. Sullivan got up, a flame already burning in his hand, walking slowly to her. She got down to her knees, put the gauntlet in the floor and said a few words. The wooden floor opened below Sullivan's legs, closing around his knees. She was at his side in less that a second. The church man was now convinced of her power, because he tapped her in the shoulder and  started to move outside.&lt;br /&gt;   Now, I'm not a religious man, not by far. I like to believe the closest thing there is to a God is me. And church men are always too rich for me to feel safe next to one of them. So I had no intrest in helping him. And I knew I wasn't the strongest fighter in the world, just a bit above average. Still I got up to fight the woman. And fight we did. I was fast enough to jump out of the hole, and she was fast enough to dodge my sword swing. After some ten minutes of neither me nor her gaining any advantage, the church man shouted a 'ENOUGH!". We stopped, both breathing hard, looking at each other, ready to strike again. I was sure I could hit her with my left arm, from below, and then throw my sword at her throat. But she had the unsettling smile of someone about to win a fight.&lt;br /&gt;    The church man smiled, waved us into a normal, non fighting stance and then said "You are both in. Two such talented fighters will be more useful than just one. Come with me." He left the inn and entered the carriage waiting outside. He signaled us into the next carriage. The paladins entered ahead of us, so I looked at her, a question in my eyes. She shrugged and so I followed them, in silence. Only after we had arrived at the cathedral did someone speak again. It was one of the paladins, telling us where to go. We passed the door and found ourselves in a richly decorated room, with a huge painting of The Lord That Gives Thee Light on the wall. Sitting in front of it was the church man, now without the hood and cloak. He waved at the chairs, and I accepted the invitation to sit. She didn't.&lt;br /&gt;     "I am Bishop Incump Riment, as you might have already guessed." I hadn't, but I don't care about church so I never know who is the Town Bishop. I don't even remember who is the kingdom', Archbishop, although I should. She showed no signs of knowing him either. He then said something about a sacred sword, that had belonged to a saint Boav Ontad, and that had been stolen. "We found this a few hours ago. Your mission is to find who did this and bring the sword back".&lt;br /&gt;  "You'll want a thief, not fighters." She said what I was thinking too. The bishop pulled a chord and soon a paladin came to the door. He bowed to the bishop and waited. "Show them what the thief did" Riment said, and we followed the paladin into a dungeon, where five bodies lay on the floor. The bodies had once been proud paladins, strong fighters that won't give up. Five of then not only death, but completely crushed, their bones turned into a fine powder. We didn't stay for much down there, because a scream brought us back the stair running. It was too late. The bishop had been killed. A strong blow to his head, just like the paladins down there. The noises in the altar made us go running to the center of the church. As soon as we got there we understood why the paladins had died so easily. It was a troll. A big troll, using the sacred word as a stick to hit people. She was able to take the sword away but the troll hit her in the stomach with his rocky hand, throwing her to the wall. The paladins died quickly, because of the shinny, heavy armors. I dodged the trolls blows for a while until I finally succeeded in tripping him and stabbing his neck between the stony scales. She was unconscious, so I grabbed her and brought her here. So NO, Thomas, I'm not trying to lay with a drunken woman in your hospital, goddammit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-3697055817713600285?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/3697055817713600285/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/swords-and-spells.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3697055817713600285'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3697055817713600285'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/swords-and-spells.html' title='swords and spells'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4905617303456485108</id><published>2010-10-21T09:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-21T14:03:08.325-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 22 - Record ID 000107-07110002-05-EAD021-060602105</title><content type='html'>DATA OUTPUT FROM RECORD NUMBER 000107-07110002-05-EAD021-060602105&lt;br /&gt;D = [ Display(000107) --human-readable --important --recommendation --date --external-docByRef ]&lt;br /&gt;&gt; SUBMIT D&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-#begin command D output#-&lt;br /&gt;E = [ EXPAND_FILE_ID(000107-07110002-05-EAD021-060602105)]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt; SUBMIT E&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--# begin command E output #--&lt;br /&gt;Record Sequence Number 000107,  Type 05 - Annexation, System Date 07 11 0002, Link ID EAD021, Link Date 06-06-2105&lt;br /&gt;Link ID description : Earth-like, Anthropomorphic, Democracy-ruled. Sequential 021.&lt;br /&gt;##acquiring more data about link##&lt;br /&gt;Q = [ SELECT LK_Name, LK_Area, LK_Population, LK_Ruler INTO Name, Area, Popul, Ruler WHERE LK_ID = 'EAD021' AND LK_Date = '06062105' ]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT Q to TABLE:LINK&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---# begin command Q output #---&lt;br /&gt;Name Atriumville Area 83 Km2 Popul 50.000 Ruler Armand Sicab&lt;br /&gt;---# end command Q output #---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--# end command E output #--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Record follows operative 0000001 - Billy.&lt;br /&gt;##selecting lines with important or recommendation or date or external references flag on from the report##&lt;br /&gt;G = [ grep "^I-\|R-\|D-\|E-" /records/0002/000107 --line-number ]&lt;br /&gt;##show top 5 lines from the file##&lt;br /&gt;C = [ cat -n /records/0002/000107 | grep ^[1-5] ]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT C&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--# begin command C output #--&lt;br /&gt;1: Billy's report on the annexation of EAD0201, Atriumville.&lt;br /&gt;2:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 06-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;3: Link shows 21st Century-like architecture and social organization. Highly bureaucratic society, organized in layers : the manual workers layer below the mental workers layer below the scientific layer below the ruling layer. Manual work and mental work layers are about 75% the community.&lt;br /&gt;4:R- If the direct approach fails I suggest converting working classes to the religion of MASS, thus prompting a eventual revolt.&lt;br /&gt;5:I have required a audience with the link's current ruler, and I await his reply in the next hours, via email. It seems to be the major communication method.&lt;br /&gt;[5 lines of 197 shown]&lt;br /&gt;--# end command C output #--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT G&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--# begin command G output #--&lt;br /&gt;2:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 06-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;4:R- If the direct approach fails I suggest converting working classes to the religion of MASS, thus prompting a eventual revolt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9:I- Follows conversation with Dr. Sicab. Only actual dialog marked with 'I-' flag according to template specifications.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;11:I- Dr. Sicab, I am Billy and I represent MASS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;13:I- Who is mass?&lt;br /&gt;14:I- What. M.A.S.S. is a supercomputer, and he rules over the System.&lt;br /&gt;15:I- Not my town he doesn't rule.&lt;br /&gt;16:I- That's exactly why I am here. You see, MASS will rule over this city, &lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;whether &lt;/span&gt;you like it or not. So what I ask you is to surrender your command to him.&lt;br /&gt;17:I- What if I refuse? What's he going to do? Bleep at me?&lt;br /&gt;18:I- Among other things. I must warn you that you WILL surrender the command of this city to him, eventually.&lt;br /&gt;19:I- The people of Atriumville elected ME as their leader and I intend to keep that position for the next six years, and eight more if I get re-elected.&lt;br /&gt;20:I- I will leave you the proper power transference papers. You have one year to sign them. In exactly one year, if you have not agreed on the terms, your people will remove you and welcome their new computer overlord.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;38: D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 07-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;47:I- Follows conversation with Mattew Matt, leader of the Workers Union of Atriumville. Only actual dialog marked with 'I-' flag according to template specifications.&lt;br /&gt;48:I- Mr. Matt, I'm Billy, representative of MASS. I gather you have received the email explaining?&lt;br /&gt;49:I- Yes I did. But you better explain yourself better. We chose Dr Sicab to be head of government, and the Union is pleased with his work so far. Yet you say we will help you overthrow him? Why?&lt;br /&gt;51:I- As you can see there, MASS has a plan for every single one of you. In five years there will be no more people starving, no more people without a house, and no more shaddy government moves behind your backs.&lt;br /&gt;52:I- There are no 'shaddy moves' behind our backs! The government is fair and honest.&lt;br /&gt;53:I- Please check section two of that document. I rather enjoyed the selling of parts of town to other towns to 'cure the deficit' as Dr Sicab puts it.&lt;br /&gt;54:E- document name EAD0201-GM2057005&lt;br /&gt;55:I- These are lies!&lt;br /&gt;56:I- There is proof of every single one of these acts. Your city is being slowly sold to other cities. Think about it. How many of the Big Companies acting in Atriumville are actually owned by Atriumenses? I will answer that for you. One.&lt;br /&gt;57:I- That cannot be.&lt;br /&gt;58:I- Only one. The Atvisode, and guess who owns Atvisode? I'll give you a clue : he is a doctor in name and Council President of profession.&lt;br /&gt;59:I- I need time to think.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;72:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 08-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;74:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 11-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;99:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 15-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;112:I- First steps have been taken to ensure the Cult of MASS to begin.&lt;br /&gt;117:R- I recommend Filip Desti as priest of the Holy Church of MASS.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;180:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 16-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;184:D- System date is 07-11-0002, Link date is 17-06-2105.&lt;br /&gt;188:I- Mr. Matt of the Workers Union has replied via email that he will support the Church of MASS.&lt;br /&gt;189:R - I recommend monthly (link time) views of the progress&lt;br /&gt;190:R-  and a miracle to happen on 06-06-2106 (link time), in order to rise the people against the government.&lt;br /&gt;[34 lines of 197 shown]&lt;br /&gt;--# end command G output #--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;##process recommendations##&lt;br /&gt;P = [process(grep "R-" /records/0002/000107)]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt; SUBMIT P&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--# begin command P output #--&lt;br /&gt;Recommendation 1 ( R- If the direct approach fails I suggest converting working classes to the religion of MASS, thus prompting a eventual revolt. ) ACCEPTED and QUEUED&lt;br /&gt;Recommendation 2 ( R- I recommend Filip Desti as priest of the Holy Church of MASS ) ACCEPTED and QUEUED&lt;br /&gt;Recommendation 3 ( R- recommend monthly (link time) views of the progress ) ACCEPTED and QUEUED&lt;br /&gt;Recommendation 4 (a miracle to happen on 06-06-2106 (link time), in order to rise the people against the government. ) ACCEPTED and QUEUED&lt;br /&gt;--# end command P output #--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;##enforcing recommendations##&lt;br /&gt;Z = [ apply(REC) ]&lt;br /&gt;R = [ for REC in ReqQUEUE do Z ]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT R&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--#begin command R output#--&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; SUBMIT Z FOR REC[0]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#begin command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;NOP&lt;br /&gt;---#end command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; SUBMIT Z FOR REC[1]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#begin command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;S = [SELECT MAX(OP_Id)]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT S from TABLE:OPERATIVE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I = [INSERT OP_Id, OP_Name, OP_Cat, OP_OrigLK_id VALUES = S, "Filip Desti", "priest", "EAD021"]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT I into TABLE:OPERATIVE&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----#begin command I output#----&lt;br /&gt;INSERT SUCCESSFUL&lt;br /&gt;----#end command I output#----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#end command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; SUBMIT Z FOR REC[2]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#begin command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;I = [INSERT SC_Frequency, SC_DateType, SC_StartDate, SC_EndDate, SC_LK_Id, SC_Type Values "Monthly", LK_Date, 17062105,06062106, "EAD021","Report"]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT I into TABLE:SCHEDULING&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;----#begin command I output#----&lt;br /&gt;INSERT SUCCESSFUL&lt;br /&gt;----#end command I output#----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#end command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt; SUBMIT Z FOR REC[3]&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#begin command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;I = [INSERT SC_Frequency, SC_DateType, SC_StartDate, SC_LK_Id, SC_Type Values "OnceOnly", LK_Date, 06062106, "EAD021","Miracle"]&lt;br /&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;&gt;SUBMIT I into TABLE:SCHEDULING&lt;br /&gt;----#begin command I output#----&lt;br /&gt;INSERT SUCCESSFUL&lt;br /&gt;----#end command I output#----&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;---#end command Z output#---&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--#end command R output#--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-#end command D output#-&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4905617303456485108?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4905617303456485108/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-22-record-id-000107-07110002-05.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4905617303456485108'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4905617303456485108'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-22-record-id-000107-07110002-05.html' title='Entry 22 - Record ID 000107-07110002-05-EAD021-060602105'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-1230342018350641067</id><published>2010-10-20T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T11:37:08.129-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>The Creature</title><content type='html'>The big beach was empty when they got there. Frank should arrive in a  couple of minutes with the bottles. Absinthe, vodka and some wine for  the girls. Speaking of girls, they weren't there either and Stan was  getting worried. "Jimmy" - he said, his emo bangs covering half the face  - "weren't the girls supposed to come with you?" "No."- Jimmy, the one  with the long, surfist blond hair replied - "They come with Frank. He  said he's pick them up after getting the booze." Andrew, the nerd boy  scout one, was taking care of the fire : setting the rocks they had  brought in a circle, then putting the sticks inside said circle. He then  got two stones from his pocket and began trying to start the fire. "Let  me, Andy, I have a lighter".&lt;br /&gt; "Don't call me Andy, Jim. Call me Andrew. It's not that big of a name.  Also, I can do it. You use your lighter for something else."&lt;br /&gt; "Very well, I'll use it to light this AWESOME weed that my older brother gave me. And then I wont let you try it."&lt;br /&gt; Andrew finally got the fire going, about the same time Frank and the  girls and the booze arrived. They all sat round the fire, bottles and  joints going left and right. Abby, the dark haired, green eyed and warm  smile girl, was sitting next to Stan and Cloe, the token black chick was  next to Frank, the other token ethnic character. In truth he was only  25% chinese, but it was more than enough to make the execs happy. He was  also the older one, 22 years against the others average of 19.5 years.  Just the right age to appeal to the demographic the execs wanted.  Anyway, the kids were all around the fireplace, Frank with his hand on  Cloe's thigh, and was whispering on her ear. She giggled, pretended to  be ashamed, then got up, pulling him and they went closer to the shore  line. There he took off his shirt, displaying his not-so-muscular body.  Then he took the shows and pants, stripping down to his briefers. She  strips too, panties and bra, both black with small silk details, showing  that she had planned for him to see them. He goes head first into the  water, takes his time under, and when she starts to look scared, jumps  out in front of her, screaming something.&lt;br /&gt;  She tries to slap him, but succeeds only in falling into the water  too. The kids looked when Frank screamed, and now were laughing hard.&lt;br /&gt;   Stan and Abby are now lying in the sand, oblivious to all around them,  Jimmy has a void look on his eyes, a bottle on the left hand, a joint on  the right one. He gives Andrew the bottle and gets up to go return some  water to nature. He walks, drunk already, to the shoreline too, but  before he can do what he wants, Cloe starts screaming to him : "Not here  you fool! Go to the rocks!". Jimmy follows the pointing finger with his  eyes and sees the said rock. He stumbles until he gets there, pulls the  pants down, does his deed, and then falls back into the sand. Gets up  and starts walking in what he assumes is the right direction, stopping  only when knee deep into the water.&lt;br /&gt;  He looks around, not seeing his friends, not even the fire. He screams  "Hey you guys! Where is everyone?" and nobody answers. So he finds  which way is the sand, by stepping once in one direction, rotating 90º,  stepping once, rotating 90º and stepping again and feeling the steep  climb under his foot. Smiling he goes into the sand, not seeing the  thing behind him. Once on the sand he looks around again. Nobody.  Nobody. Nobo-- wait, is that a light? It looks like a light. He walks in  that direction, but the thing behind him, at this point only a black  human-shaped shadow, grabs him. It's hands look like they are fully  covered by seaweed, but he is strong. Strong enough to drag the  screaming boy into the water.&lt;br /&gt;   Back on the fire, Andrew is too drunk to even care about the fact  that he is alone. Stan and Abby went to the right, in search of some..  privacy. By the sea, Cloe is sitting on the sand, and Frank is still  inside the water, doing acrobatic dives to impress the girl. He dives  once, comes up again, dives again, some four times, always different  dives. After the fifth time, he doesn't come up. Cloe screams his name,  "Not funny! Come out!" and a lot of other things the execs will want to  cut out.&lt;br /&gt;   Finally, Frank comes up again, in the typical drown man position.  Cloe goes to him, pulls him by the hair, screaming and insulting him,  until she notices that there's something missing : Frank's face is not  there. She screams again, this time more hysterical and less insulting.  Next to the fire, Andrew is asleep, and says something to the effect of  "not yet mommy" when Cloe changes the screaming style. She stops it  altogether when the same seaweed covered arm comes from under the water  and pulls her inside. Andrew still asleep, Abby appears, running from  where she was, Stan follows her, still buttoning his pants. "Andrew,  wake up! Where's Cloe? I heard her scream! And where the hell is Jimmy?"&lt;br /&gt;   Andrew looks at her, shrugs, and falls asleep again. "Stan, wake him up! I'll go look for them!"&lt;br /&gt;    Abby goes to the shore line, screaming her friend's name, and  occasionally "Frank" too. She sees something on the water, closes in,  screams hysterically when she notices it's a human arm. Her BFF's arm,  to be more precise. Still that stupid "Tequila For Ever" tattoo next to  the wrist. Stan comes running, with cries of preoccupation, in time to  see his new girlfriend being taken underwater by the creature. He  screams one of those bad words the execs will bleep, and runs to save  his maiden. He succeeds only in giving her a few more seconds to live,  since the monster stops eating her to kill him with a swift movement  from the hand. The creature finishes eating the girl's face and torso,  leaving the arms and legs floating in the water and drags the boy's body  down, for a future meal.&lt;br /&gt;   Next day, Andrew wakes up in jail.&lt;br /&gt;   Three years after, on that  same night, he kills himself with the bed sheets from his prison cell,  tormented with the guilt of having killed his friends in a fit of  madness.&lt;br /&gt;   Two weeks after, a strange man-eating creature is found in the shore.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-1230342018350641067?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/1230342018350641067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/creature.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1230342018350641067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1230342018350641067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/creature.html' title='The Creature'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-5559005681631640761</id><published>2010-10-20T06:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T16:45:49.592-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>Monster Killer</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Blood and guts.&lt;br /&gt;Everywhere I look, that was all there is to see.&lt;br /&gt;And that horrible beast in front of me, at least eight feet tall, shinny horns and pointy teeth, huge muscular arms that were coming at me, to shred my body into blood and guts too.&lt;br /&gt;I take one step back, one deep breath and grab the already loaded shotgun that was hanging of my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;I point it at the beast's face, right between his eyes :&lt;br /&gt;"taste my hot lead, motherfucker!".&lt;br /&gt;Blood and guts and monster brains.&lt;br /&gt;Much better decor if you ask me.&lt;br /&gt;There's more of them in this building, I can hear them.&lt;br /&gt;The building was vacant, so I'm guessing this bodies are from the homeless people that broke the door in the back.&lt;br /&gt;I reload the shotgun, check both the pistols, the knife, the grenades I hope I won't need to use, and the army riffle.&lt;br /&gt;All ammo full, except one less shotgun shot.&lt;br /&gt;This was a hotel, once.&lt;br /&gt;Long corridors with door on both sides.&lt;br /&gt;Not good at all.&lt;br /&gt;They seem to be arriving in the top floors, I needed to climb five to find the first of them, and I have ten more to climb.&lt;br /&gt;I want some music, but it would cover other sounds, and the damned helmet's HUD is not working fine.&lt;br /&gt;One of the mikes was hit last week, and you bloody fool haven't fixed it yet.&lt;br /&gt;But time to install a stupid detector that beeps whenever it gets too hot, that you had...&lt;br /&gt;I FEEL IT when it's too hot, damn fool.&lt;br /&gt;I think sometimes you confuse me with one of those stupid robots.&lt;br /&gt;And speaking of it, there goes one.&lt;br /&gt;I'd grab it, rotate the camera to me and smile my trademark evil smirk, that I know how much you hate, just to say :&lt;br /&gt;"Spying on me again? I told you I can handle this, fool!", but then I couldn't smoke so peacefully.&lt;br /&gt;"Sure you can handle it. Just like you could on that warehouse, last month?" - your voice in my ears is, as usual, to loud.&lt;br /&gt;And I had everything under control.&lt;br /&gt;You just wanted to boost up your body count.&lt;br /&gt;The robot started moving again.&lt;br /&gt;It's a standard all-terrain one camera, one gun bot, thanks for the great help, it just walks around following me and shooting at whatever moves.&lt;br /&gt;Damn trigger happy bots.&lt;br /&gt;Can I destroy it?&lt;br /&gt;"Sure if you want me to spend the next week fixing the bot instead of your suit's sensors. "&lt;br /&gt;Speaking of sensors, one monster is coming this way.&lt;br /&gt;I need to start killing again.&lt;br /&gt;Damn, I thought I had time to finish the damned cigarette this time...&lt;br /&gt;Oh well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This time I took the army rifle, semi-auto mode, three shots to the head and the monster is dead.&lt;br /&gt;I have to admit one thing about your robots : they save work.&lt;br /&gt;I put the damned thing checking every room, all I need to do is wait here for a while.&lt;br /&gt;This time I might actually be able of finishing the cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;I should have a direct link to the camera in the bot, but noooo, "it would ruin the aesthetics of the HUD".&lt;br /&gt;"It totally would."&lt;br /&gt;So I have to trust that it doesn't miss anything, while waiting.&lt;br /&gt;Ok the bot is returning, floor clear, next one now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;Damn lazy elevators not working when there is no power.&lt;br /&gt;Stairs, how much I hate thee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, sending the bot in first, waiting for gunshots...&lt;br /&gt;There they are, my time, now with real guns.&lt;br /&gt;Weak monster, this one. Big, but weak.&lt;br /&gt;There were two of them here, but the damn robot got one before I did.&lt;br /&gt;And it is checking the rooms now...&lt;br /&gt;No more dead people so far, and the monsters are still all up there.&lt;br /&gt;Something strange is happening in here.&lt;br /&gt;The monsters normally run down to the streets as soon as possible, to feed.&lt;br /&gt;This time only this three weak ones got down, but I can ear many more upstairs.&lt;br /&gt;Ok, bot back, next floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Floor twelve.&lt;br /&gt;Only two more monsters on the way up.&lt;br /&gt;That's five so far.&lt;br /&gt;And the sounds are getting closer.&lt;br /&gt;Going up the stairs now.&lt;br /&gt;I still have plenty of ammo, but I feel that something's about to happen.&lt;br /&gt;Something I won't like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, sending the bot in.&lt;br /&gt;"The robot was destroyed! I killed two, but there were too many! I counted ten, but there might be more."&lt;br /&gt;I can ear them. Lots of them.&lt;br /&gt;I'll throw a grenade before, damn waste, this things are expensive as fuck.&lt;br /&gt;Pin off, count to five, throw, hide behind the door, explosion, arm the rifle, enter.&lt;br /&gt;One at my left, half of one at my right.&lt;br /&gt;The grenade took four away, wounded three more.&lt;br /&gt;I can still count six others on the corridor.&lt;br /&gt;One sweep and I got rid of half of them monsters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the damn beasts is running in my direction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One head-shot, plus some shots to the chest.&lt;br /&gt;Remember the first one we killed?&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, we autopsied it."&lt;br /&gt;It was before you were sent to a wheelchair by one of the monsters.&lt;br /&gt;"They have a heart, just not a human one. It's some three times the size of ours, and as such, easier to hit as long as you shoot them IN THE CHEST!"&lt;br /&gt;Yes, but I like head shots better, nothing beats the sight of flying monster brains.&lt;br /&gt;Two more down and the clip is almost over, switching to shotgun.&lt;br /&gt;No more of them in corridor, going to check the doors.&lt;br /&gt;Room 1301, clear. 1303, clear. Same for rooms 1302 and 1304.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pretty brains flying! 1305 now clear.&lt;br /&gt;1306, clear. 1307, 1308, 1309, 1310 , 1311 aaand 1312 clear.&lt;br /&gt;I have a bad feeling about 1313.&lt;br /&gt;Not just because of the almost deafening sound that comes from inside.&lt;br /&gt;The fowl smell helps too.&lt;br /&gt;"The monsters always smell bad."&lt;br /&gt;But this smells even worst.&lt;br /&gt;Something ahead smells of.. sulfur?&lt;br /&gt;I still have another grenade.&lt;br /&gt;Just refilled the shotgun, I have four in chamber and eight more spare shells.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Switched the riffle clip, using the last one now.&lt;br /&gt;Both pistols are still unused, so as long as there aren't more than say..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;twenty, I should be fine.&lt;br /&gt;Kicking the door in and.. I find myself in a blood flooded room.&lt;br /&gt;Too much blood for the single corpse that lies in the middle, being eaten by one of the monsters.&lt;br /&gt;That one goes down easily, so does the one that comes from the hole in the wall.&lt;br /&gt;I can see all the way to the last room in this corridor.&lt;br /&gt;In every room at least a couple of monsters.&lt;br /&gt;I have time to reload the shotgun, so now I'm down to ten shells, total.&lt;br /&gt;Next room, I moved through the holes in the wall, eight shots, next room, five since I missed a shot.&lt;br /&gt;I can't miss a damn shot.&lt;br /&gt;Another monster down, the last four shells are loaded.&lt;br /&gt;They have stopped what ever it was they were doing and are coming my way.&lt;br /&gt;Joy oh joy.&lt;br /&gt;I go back to 1313, killing two more and finishing the shotgun.&lt;br /&gt;Assault riffle now.&lt;br /&gt;They are still coming.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I never saw so many.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still in 1313, out of shotgun, out of riffle.&lt;br /&gt;Both hand guns have fired two shots, but there are no more of them in sight.&lt;br /&gt;Whatever was happening up here was in the suite, room 1319.&lt;br /&gt;This time I take the corridor, handguns ready.&lt;br /&gt;1314 and 1316 are empty, as I expected.&lt;br /&gt;Kicking the door in, I almost scream when I see what's ahead of me.&lt;br /&gt;This aren't just homeless people.&lt;br /&gt;There's at least 20 bodies in here.&lt;br /&gt;"They must have been collecting them."&lt;br /&gt;But dead bodies don't scare me.&lt;br /&gt;The portal behind them does.&lt;br /&gt;It's the first time I see such a portal open.&lt;br /&gt;The monsters normally arrive and the portals close immediately after, but this one is open.&lt;br /&gt;"What do you see? What's there?"&lt;br /&gt;Fire, all there is is fire.&lt;br /&gt;All I can see is the flames burning on a skeleton paved floor, and a throne.&lt;br /&gt;In the throne is a monster, just like the ones I've been killing but different.&lt;br /&gt;This one is bigger, his horns are huge, his eyes are old.&lt;br /&gt;Really old.&lt;br /&gt;His arm is long, and his hand, dark red, filled with scars, is stretching to get me.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck, the grenade I threw inside did nothing.&lt;br /&gt;A fiery explosion in the middle of fire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ah.&lt;br /&gt;The handguns are empty now, and I stab him with the knife but it won't work.&lt;br /&gt;Hey, it's been a pleasure working with you, and a bigger one living with you, and a bigger on-&lt;br /&gt;"Are you there?"&lt;br /&gt;"ANSWER!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: justify;"&gt;-"Static. That's what I heard after, only static. There's three more hours of static in that file if you want it."&lt;br /&gt;The man in a wheelchair had a small datacard in his hand, but the priest refused it:&lt;br /&gt;"No thank you. I already suspected this was the case. Demons, damn fucking demons. And I was so close to retirement!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;pre&gt;&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-5559005681631640761?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/5559005681631640761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/monster-killer.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/5559005681631640761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/5559005681631640761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/monster-killer.html' title='Monster Killer'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-7325827232549648228</id><published>2010-10-18T09:41:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-20T16:46:24.296-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='CountdownToHalloween'/><title type='text'>The Aliens</title><content type='html'>The aliens looked like a alien should look like : completely impossible to describe using the basic limitations of any world language. You could say that some where yellow, some where green, some where red. That will get you no where in terms of what they look like. You can say that they appeared to have a cannonball in their torso, except that they didn't have torsos, not like we do. You could say that when they move it seems that it is the earth that is moving behind their shapeless shape, except that you know it really isn't and that this adds nothing to said description. You could say they appeared to be dressed, except we have no idea if those patches of grayish hair-lookalike are really a uniform or really hair.&lt;br /&gt;You could say that although they had arms, or some approximation of arms, in the least, except that they didn't have hands, and the arms looked boneless. You could call the arms tentacles, but that would give you the idea of a octopus and nothing could be further away from what they look like.&lt;br /&gt;As you can see, although I just spent the last lines describing you how did the aliens look like, you still have next to no idea. One thing I can describe is what happened to those who first found them, and that is what I'm about to do.&lt;br /&gt;Imagine a big country road. It doesn't matter which road, nor which country. Just one of those really long, eventless roads, plantations on both sides of say, corn. Now picture a small car. One of those low-budget sports car, with great mileage, not so great top-speed and below average environmental protection. Driving the car is a young boy, in his early twenties maybe. The girl next to him looks slightly older, but not by much. There is no need is describing them more that this, for they were humans, and all humans look somewhat alike. They were driving for some hours, it was late afternoon, the sun lazily drowning into the horizon, the girl rolling maybe a cigarette, the boy one hand on the wheel, another on her shoulders. Doing between 80 and 100, the little car shaking a bit, the boy would have had no way of avoiding the hit even if he was, as intended, looking at road and not at the radio. As it was, the *BUMP* caught them by surprise. He quickly got out of the car, checking to see what had they hit. Now, I know you are thinking that it was a alien they hit. You couldn't be more wrong. The dog they hit was most definitively terrestrial, and so was the owner of the dog, a little boy, not more that 8, that came from inside the corn. He had witnessed the tragic deed and was crying while screaming for the dog. I will allow you to fill the name of the dog since it would not be important for the story to have such a name, and this way you can connect to the poor boy more easily. As for me, I'll call it doggy, because that's what I always call dogs. So the boy was going : "You killed my doggy!", the kid was just standing there, his eyes going from the pool of blood in the floor to the broken headlight where doggy's head had hit and the girl was inside the car smoking her maybe cigarette, and pretending she didn't care. She would have managed to pretend all the way till the end had she not looked straight at the boy. His tears turned into her tears too, and soon she was holding the younger of the kids in her arms, crying his pain too. The older of the kids did what he could : using a plastic bag, that was in the trunk ever since that one time they went shopping for food right before a picnic. I say this here, because it might be important to know that the kid's eyes shone while remembering that same picnic, a couple of weeks before. It was the day, after so many months, that they finally "touched each other souls" to use a more PC term, and the day he decided he would marry her. At this time he touched his left pocket, making sure for the 100th time he had not forgotten the ring home. So they picked the doggy's body, and drove the kid with them until a small tree, next to the road a few miles down. There they dug a hole with the help of a couple of branches, and rested the pet's body in eternal peace. They then took the boy to his home, and it is here that thing start to get interesting. You see, the boy shouldn't be out so late in the afternoon, those two hours between coming home from school and the parents arriving to make dinner and give him pain because of the homework were the little boy's favorite hours of the day. He'd sit in front of the television and catch reruns of old cartoons, or play a game in his old but reliable computer, or even, if he was feeling brave, read a book. But when he was about to sit for TV he heard a sound outside. So he did what any other 8 year old with some senses would do : He took Doggy and went to investigate. He had started to follow the sounds until Doggy picked a scent and went crazy, pushing itself away from the kid. So he ran like crazy behind that dog that was running crazy behind a crazy scent. That was how the car hit Doggy, and now that the kid was back at home he remembered why he had gone out of the house. Not because seeing the house brought back the memory that his emotional pain of loosing his dog was hiding, but because the sound repeated. A strange howling sound that sounded nothing as a howl. Or a owl, for what that matters. It sounded inhuman, and since it was inhuman that is by far the best description of it. Just imagine a sound different from everything you can imagine and that was what the three of them heard there. Normal, sensible people, would have let the kid there, running away when the sound's source appeared.  Unfortunately, the older kid was one of those persons with a sense of right and wrong too strong for his own welfare, so he could not leave the younger kid there. Also unfortunately, the boy was already at his door and the kid was already at his car. You can see what this means : He had to run to get the kid, since the alien, that I will make no effort to describe, as I have already explained it to be impossible, was getting closer to the house. So the kid ran, grabbed the boy and ran back to the car. Once there, the boy in the back seat, mumbling and crying, the kid turned the car on. Maybe turning the car on makes the same sound some ancient predator of the alien did while hunting. Maybe the alien didn't want the rest of the humans to know that he was there. Maybe he was just evil and wanted to have a bit of fun. Either way, his ray gun cut the car into twin parts. The boy, sitting on the central, rear bench, was also multiplied, which send the girl into tears and screams and other body fluids, some healthy some not so much. The alien slowly moved towards them in that "the earth is actually moving below me and not the other way around" way, investigating those creatures he no doubt considered as strange as a human would considered him. I call him a 'he' not because I am sure of his sex but only for convenience. Who's to say that they even have genders as we do? So he kept advancing in the direction of the cut-in-half car-and-boy combo, the girl still screaming, sobbing, crying, the kid still shocked beyond reaction. It was only when the arm/tentacle/proboscis/whatever touched the girls arm, burning a hole in her skin and sending a cold shiver down her spine, did the kid get up from his place. He went to the back of the car and from the baggage compartment took a baseball bat. The girl was sitting, silent now, her eyes void, staring into the alien that was still touching her, leaving a scorched mark behind, flesh, muscles, meat and bones cut without a yotta of effort from the strange being. The kid hit the arm/tentacle/proboscis/whatever with the bat, succeeding only in loosing his only weapon, as the bat broke when it came in contact with the alien's greenish skin. The yellowish alien and the redish one were too moving towards them, slowly. The girl, probably deciding she had had enough of it, got up and ran. She ran as fast as she could, caring nothing for the kid that loved her, caring nothing for the boy they had just met and now was dead, caring nothing for her lady bag, with her phone, her lipstick, her keys, her face products, her little phone book with the number of that cute personal trainer she was considering dumping this kid for, caring nothing for her arm, lifeless, scarred for life. She only thought one thing and that thing was "I need to escape". The greenish alien wasn't pleased when the thing he was playing with ran away, so he stopped her with another shot from the ray gun. Meanwhile, the kid was surrounded by strange aliens, all of them extending those things to touch him and he lost consciousness. That was probably a act of mercy by God, that seeing what pain and suffering he had brought on him already, decided to end it short. Had he not fallen asleep there, he would have felt while the aliens slowly took away his epidermis, then his dermis, then his... You get the point. He was still alive when they started to retrieve the internal organs, one by one, placing them in small plastic bags they had inside the grayish fur/uniform. There was no one alive there when they left, and for many a year the police was baffled but that strange triple murder. And even if someone had witnessed the awful thing, little would it have mattered, since that potential witness, say a little girl that happened to be inside the car while all this happened, would never be able of describing the aliens, nor would she be believed. Because they would ask her "why didn't the aliens kill you too?" and she would have to answer "I do not know".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-7325827232549648228?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/7325827232549648228/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-22-aliens.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7325827232549648228'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7325827232549648228'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-22-aliens.html' title='The Aliens'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4389558358338010694</id><published>2010-10-14T08:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.485-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 21 - Truth Serum</title><content type='html'>Under A'akr's castle there was a network of tunnels, with rooms of diverse sizes and shapes. One of such tunnels had a series of small rooms with bars instead of doors and led to a bigger room, with chains on the walls and strange torture instruments. Mostly for show now days, since the wizard didn't need to use such crude methods to make people speak. Sitting in a strange chair, with her hands and legs cuffed, was a girl, in her mid-twenties, mid-short dark hair and light-green eyes. She was looking at the wizard, straight to his eyes, not a blink of fear in her. Her mouth remained shut, and she acted as if not hearing the wizards question again.&lt;br /&gt;"Girl, I have ways to make you speak to me. And then I have all this equipment around you. I bet I could get a few words out of you with those."&lt;br /&gt;She gave a faint smile and said, her first words since she had been captured - "Bring it on." - Challenge in her eyes and in her voice. The wizard turned his back on her, blew the pair of candles next to the door out, leaving the room in darkness, and walked away. He came back almost a hour later, with a huge syringe in his hands, smiling. Waving at the candles, they came back to life, and she could see the smile in his lips and the evil shinning on his eyes as he spoke - "This is a truth serum. One of my.. Experiments. The syringe is a bit big, because I normally use it to kill horses. But don't worry, I disinfected it. Now, give me your arm. Oh, wait, you can't." - He was smiling as he injected her with the dark purple liquid, and she shut her eyes and mouth restraining the scream she wanted to give.&lt;br /&gt;"It should take about twenty minutes to act, there's no use in trying to fight it, so I'll tell you all about the serum." - He sat on a different chair, a normal one, and started lecturing her, looking at her eyes and checking her pulse from time to time - "Have you ever heard of the russian SP-117? Well, I found a formula for it once. It's supposed to make those who take it talk of everything, and people can't lie when they are drugged with it, nor will they remember it the next day, not so far from a huge drunkness. This isn't SP-117, SP has no color nor taste. But more importantly, some people are immune to it. So I mixed it with amobarbital. Now, amobarbital is a anti-insomnia drug when taken in pills, but if I give it by intravenous route, it becomes a truth serum. And then there's thiopental. It's a pain-killer so you won't feel pain. It will also make you unable to resist answering me."- He looked at his watch, and smiled. Leaning back on his chair he kept going - "Last but not least, I put some amaranth petals in the serum, to make it prettier. It should be kicking in now, your limbs are numb, your thought process should be harder, and you must be starting to feel like you'd want to talk to me, so don't fight it and let's talk. What is your name?"&lt;br /&gt;She opened her mouth to speak but then closed it firmly, shaking her head. He smiled and asked again, and again until she spoke, against her will - "Ariena."&lt;br /&gt;He clapped slowly - "See? It was easy. Next question, Where are you from?"&lt;br /&gt;"I don't know."&lt;br /&gt;"How come you don't know?"&lt;br /&gt;"The tribe's xaman found me next to the link when I was still a baby, wrapped inside a t-shirt. The tribe wanted to leave me there to be eaten by the lions since I was different, but mamma Anpaka said she would keep me. No one dared to say no to her, she was a powerful caplata and..." - "Sorry, a powerful what?" - "Caplata, a sorceress that serves the loa with both hands, a conjurer of all magic, good and bad. They all feared her, so she took me to her hut and raised me to be a caplata like her. The tribe finally accepted me a few years back, and gave me my last name Siyokalibe, the girl from somewhere. Three years ago a man came from the link and killed mamma, during the night. Unfortunately I was the only one awake at the time. The tribe divided between those who believed me and those who thought I had killed her. Me! Killing my mother! Never!" - All this time, the wizard was sitting, nodding with his head, and writing down on his notebook, without speaking, not to disturb the girl's train of thought - "So they banished me to the caves that over look the trees. I come to the village every now and then to heal the sick and they come to me when they need potions. The rest of the time I spend it looking for the murdered of my mother in other links. It was in one of those links I found the gauntlets of lightning, and many other things I have at my cave. The day you and your barbarians came, I was in my cave, from where I can see the HyperLink. As soon as you left the link I ran to village and the rest you know."&lt;br /&gt;The wizard smiled, got up on his feet and petted Ariena's head - "There, good girl. Now I will let you sleep" - he took another syringe from his pockets and injected her in one swift movement - "and when you wake up, I will want a reply to my proposition : either you join me and A'akr in conquering the System or I will take your secrets by force. Think of it this way : I can lead you to the man that killed your mamma Anpaka and you can have your revenge."&lt;br /&gt; Still with a smile on his lips, he got up and blew the candles again before leaving the room and the girl slowly fading into oblivion...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4389558358338010694?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4389558358338010694/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/under-aakrs-castle-there-was-network-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4389558358338010694'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4389558358338010694'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/under-aakrs-castle-there-was-network-of.html' title='Entry 21 - Truth Serum'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-8795531911733484222</id><published>2010-10-07T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 20 - Stellar jewels</title><content type='html'>When you have done some works in the 'low life' part of the city like I have, you get to know some shady characters. Those tend to be very useful whenever I need information, like I needed now. The loading docks, next to the cargo-links were arguably the shadiest part of town, and that's where I went. Hired muscle is a normal job in this town, but still there aren't that many people doing it, and finding someone who knew 'John' was easy. He was new in town, arrived in the last month and had worked a couple of days at the cargo-links before being hired to work as a Security Guard at one of the Clubs. That's where I went after, only to find out he had been fired for not showing up to work twice, just a couple of days before. A little luck and a couple of bills helped find his house.&lt;br /&gt; A small apartment much like mine, near the night district, that I broke into easily. I searched the place but the only thing I found was a paper sheet with the same symbols they had on their tattoos on one side and a address on the other. I passed by the police station to find out he was still there and that he had not yet made a phone call. Unless I pressed charges they'd be forced to let him out the next day. I promised to pass there before, and I went to the address. It was a small door between a antique shop and another building door. In front there was a hot dog stand, so I went to it, asked for a beer and leaned over to the wall, waiting, coat covering half my face, hat covering the rest. The first beer too me half a hour to drink, the second another hour and only when I was about to get the third did something happen.&lt;br /&gt;  A woman came out, but I only recognized her a few seconds after, already following her down the street. She had changed into less noticeable clothes and was going fast down the street. I followed her to the hyperlink. If let her enter she would be as good as lost, since this was one of the new fully automatic link. I ran and bumped into her as soon as she got her feet up to enter the link. We both traveled and I landed in top of her, she in top of sand. In front of me a pyramid and to my side a town right out of ancient Egypt. Houses of mud bricks and temples of stone as far as I could see.&lt;br /&gt;  "Hey there honey, there's sand in your hair." - I said while cuffing her - "And now it's you who are cuffed. Shall we repeat last night?" - She was kicking and trying to get me off of her. My hand covering her lips meant she wasn't able of screaming, so I was able to pick her up and move her into the city, mingling with the people where I put her against the wall. "So. Why did you steal my little notebook?" - being unable to speak she mumbled until I remembered I'd better take m hand of her mouth.&lt;br /&gt;   "That damned bitch stole something of great value to us."&lt;br /&gt;    "How did you know what to look for?" - since she wasn't answering I took out my gun and put it against her clothes, and asked again.&lt;br /&gt;    "You and the 'love of your life' are well known in the police station, and so is the little book where you write down anything connected to jewel heists or her. The Order of Horus is everywhere in the System! And if she thinks she can just run away with the Eye of God, she is very mistaken. We will find her, kill her and get back what is ours."&lt;br /&gt;    I must have become distracted by the thought of Stella, because the woman was able of kicking me and running away. I searched the entire link but I couldn't find her. Their symbol was everywhere, so that was not something I could follow as a lead. I returned to the Dark City, wondering how could I enter their meeting place, for I had decided that was what it was, without being recognized. I ended up going home, thinking that sleep would actually do me some good.&lt;br /&gt;    The door to my office was unlocked, so I took out my gun, took a deep breath and kicked it in. The gun fell on the floor, followed by my chin. She was there, sitting on my chair, my glass on one hand, one of my cigarettes in her beautiful lips, a green eye of Horus in a chain at her chest, my Stella was there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-8795531911733484222?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/8795531911733484222/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-20-stellar-jewels.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8795531911733484222'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8795531911733484222'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-20-stellar-jewels.html' title='Entry 20 - Stellar jewels'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-6456190348991912227</id><published>2010-10-07T04:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 19 - the woman with the evil tattoo</title><content type='html'>She smiled and left the room, leaving me in the bed, cuffed, gagged and naked. I knew I shouldn't have trusted her as soon as I saw her tattoo : the small trio of green hieroglyphs, the stairs above the eye and the scribe, sitting, on the side, on her left breast. It was the same tattoo the guy that had tried to kill me earlier had on his left arm.&lt;br /&gt; Unfortunately, at the time she showed me hers, I was already tied down. It could have been worst. She did keep the promises she had made when we were at the dance before leaving me there alone, without my wallet, without my gun and without any way to warn someone...&lt;br /&gt;  The room had been paid for the night (I would have never taken her to my place... Way too many dishes to clean and clothes to wash), so until morning nobody was going to check on me. I reviewed the day in my mind, starting with the moment I first saw the man.&lt;br /&gt;   It was around 4 in the afternoon and I was sitting, back turned at my desk. No new cases for three days, so I was just relaxing and watching the street, a glass of my favorite vintage Brandy in one hand. A knock on the door and I turned, said a 'Come in' and the door opens to a man, in a dark gray suit, about 45, not very tall nor fat but with large shoulders. He looked like hired muscle, and when he spoke I knew he was.  His voice was heavy, but his eyes were looking around while he was telling me that he had just lost his wife.&lt;br /&gt;   I couldn't really say why, but all of it smelt false. Now, lying in bed and thinking about it I know what it was. I should have noticed it before, but somehow I missed it. It was so obvious now. The name was the first thing. John Smith. Such a obviously fake name. Yet many people give fake names to PI's. As long as they pay, I don't mind. But what should have given it away was that he kept mentioning his wife yet he had no weeding ring. He did mention money, and I was kinda needing it, so I took his case.  &lt;br /&gt;   We went in his car to the place where he said she had last been seen. I was driving and he was giving indications, we were in the worst part of the city, on a small street, nobody watching, nobody passing and suddenly a kid appears on the road, seemingly out of nowhere. I break not to hit him, and John, if that is his real name, misses the shot. I grab his arm, take away his gun and cuff him without even thinking. After a few years in the Special Ops, some reactions become instinctive.&lt;br /&gt;   I left "John" locked in the car and went to see if the kid was alright. I call him kid, but I never saw his face. All I know is that he was wearing what looked like a light brown tweed suit, and that he was gone by the time I got out of the car, like if he had never been there. He must have run, scared in the time it took me to get out. After that I dropped the hired muscle in the police station.&lt;br /&gt;   The inspector was there and he greeted me with a small nod, as usual. Every other week I'd be there, delivering a caught criminal or just asking about Her. I had not forgotten that she was the reason I had chosen to return here, and I'd been slowly collecting info, and so I was already known in the police station.&lt;br /&gt;   I went home after that, and off to the monthly dance after dinner, alone as ever. I kept going there, because it was there that we danced, that one night so long ago. There I met the girl and that led me to the bed where I now waited for either sleep or the morning.&lt;br /&gt;   One thing was still bugging me. The hired muscle tried to kill me, but the woman could have done it easily, with me tied and unmovable in bed, but she didn't. So it's not that they wanted to kill me, they wanted something I have. Or they think I do. Lying cuffed in bed, there wasn't much I could do to find what it was they wanted, so I just forced myself to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;   I woke with the motel's owner knocking on the door. I tried to reply before remembering the situation I was in. So I just waited for the owner to open the door, laugh at me because she had left the window opend and it was cold, and then help me get ungagged. I explained roughly what had hapend, but still I had to pay for the afternoon since the locksmith was only able to take me out some three hours after my time period ended. From my clothes only the keys were missing. My wallet had everything, and my cigarettes were still there. I thanked the gods that she hadn't taken those, lighted one, and went home. I had to ask the landlord for a spare key, and to pay for it too. The office was a mess, as I half expected. The cabinet was spilled on the floor, the drawers opened and emptied on top of the files. My apartment was in the same state, clothes everywhere.&lt;br /&gt;   It took me the rest of the day to clean everything up and finding out what was missing. It was one single notebook, the one I always kept in my top drawer in the desk, the one marked Stella, Her name where I had been compiling all information I could find. So they were after Stella, I thought. What was it that she stole them? Since the Heart of Fire, twelve other rare jewels had been reported stolen, and in some of the cases a beautiful woman had been described by witnesses, sometimes just wandering by, once inside the shop before everyone lost senses and not there after...&lt;br /&gt;   Now, what I needed was to find them, retrieve my notebook and with luck, I might even find Stella again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-6456190348991912227?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/6456190348991912227/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-19-woman-with-evil-tattoo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6456190348991912227'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6456190348991912227'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/10/entry-19-woman-with-evil-tattoo.html' title='Entry 19 - the woman with the evil tattoo'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-191462007196324530</id><published>2010-09-30T09:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 18 - An excerpt of the Secret Diary of a Middle-Aged Mad Scientist, by Artur F. Onzi</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="color: rgb(255, 102, 0);font-size:130%;" &gt;Concerning the early expansion of the Barbarian Empire.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; --&lt;br /&gt;A'akr keeps demanding more links to attack. That damn barbarian can't understand that I need to look for low-tech or pacifist links that won't put up much of a fight.&lt;br /&gt; --&lt;br /&gt;One of the scouts found a good link for us to conquer next. A little African village, complete with straw huts and everything. I will recommend it to A'akr later today.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;Have spoken to that incorrigible barbarian. He wanted to go in today, but I invented some bullcrap about the stars not being right. We will go in tomorrow, so I should have just enough time to finish the electro-axe. I think I can have some 20 ready.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;The men are lining up on the courtyard, and I asked A'akr to select the top 20. I told him that they would be fitted with a new magic weapon. I was able to finish upgrading his sword too. A small electro-cell, interesting piece of technology, kinda like a battery but it auto recharges and generates some high-voltage low-current electrical discharge. Connected to the blade, it delivers a shock that renders the opponent incapable of fighting back. On the hands of such a ruthless army of fierce warriors, these are indeed powerful weapons. Can't wait to see the results.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;The HyperLink on this place is located in the middle of the jungle. A small clearing, with skulls in spears in all sides. A good thing about pre-industrial links is that they have almost no contact with the other links. Just like the barbarian king when I first got there, here they likely believe this is the all universe. This small, tree filled island. The scout that found the place went ahead, trying to find a path to the village. The men are impatient, specially A'akr and the 20 elite with new weapons. If they don't find enemies soon they might just start killing off scouts to see the weapons working.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;The scout should be back by now. Sending the other one, this time with a two-man squad to protect him. A'akr said that if these don't return, we will all go after them.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;Reminder : ask G'utr for my bottle of wine when we get back to our link.&lt;br /&gt;It's too easy to win bets with this guys. The scouts didn't return, so we will be going as a group, and I won a bottle! Not that I need it, but hey.&lt;br /&gt;--&lt;br /&gt;We followed the trail until we got to near the village. There, both scouts and both guards were waiting for us. One of the scouts had a short wooden spear piercing his head, and the other three barbarians had mortal wounds on them too. Yet they were standing, a void look on their eyes, arms dead on the side of the body, blocking the path. A'akr gestured to the army to stop, before ordering the wounded men to move out of the way.&lt;br /&gt;They remained silent, non moving, although their king was ordering them to. A'akr himself lifted his sword and shouted them that he would kill them if they did not move. I could have won another bottle if I had bet that it wouldn't work.&lt;br /&gt; Only when A'akr cut the first scout's head off with one blow, and the scout's body stood there, non moving, did it hit me : zombies. They had turned our scouts into fucking zombies. Now, if the barbarians were one of those races with ethics, morals or even a basic understanding of respect for their fellow countrymen, they wouldn't be able to do what they did next : 5 of them attacked and they destroyed the bodies of their dead friends. A'akr, as he always did when something he did not understood happened (and that is frequent)  turned to me and said "What is this sorcery, wizard?". For once I'd like him to say "what is this wizardry, sorcerer?" but he never does. Unimaginative fool that one.&lt;br /&gt; "I know not A'akr. It is unlike any another magic I have ever seen."&lt;br /&gt; I advised A'akr to move forward in a defensive formation since our men had obviously been attacked. He is now positioning the men and getting ready to move forward.&lt;br /&gt; --&lt;br /&gt; We got to the village without encountering any more resistance. The 'village' was no more than some 20 huts, placed around a central open space. One of the huts was closer to the fire in the middle of the space, and it was from there that she came out.&lt;br /&gt; She wore a dress made of many different pieces of clothing, all in different earth tones, and long sleeves hiding her hands. She was quite obviously a woman, and once again, if this was another normal race, the barbarians would have run away at this point, because instead of a face, the woman had a distorted tiger head, and her eyes were on fire.&lt;br /&gt;  But A'akr men praised a half-wolf, half-snake god, and did weekly sacrifices of human flesh to it's altar. So a tiger headed girl was nothing they couldn't take.&lt;br /&gt;  They moved, ready to kill the monster ahead of them, but she growled, a inhuman sound, and from the heavy gauntlets she had in her hands, a burst of lightning jumped to the first few barbarians, and those fell into the floor. A second burst, and 5 more barbarians were lying in the floor. From the trees, wooden spears start hitting the naked torsos of A'akr's men. They formed a circle around me and their king, protecting us.&lt;br /&gt;  The woman's gauntlet shoot lightning again, but a little less power in it this time. At this rate, two or three more shots and she would be out. The barbarians might be stupid, but they are amazing warriors. So when they saw that both me and their king were safe, they started running to the trees. Meanwhile, some were trying to get to the woman from behind, but she spotted them before and they too fell under the lightning. This time they just lost consciousness to regain it briefly after, but it was time enough for her to inject something into the bodies at her feet, with a syringe she had in one of the dresses many pouches . They got up, eyes void as the ones before, and positioned themselves around her.&lt;br /&gt;   Spears had stopped raining from the trees, and soon enough the barbarians were returning, with smiles on their faces, the blood of the enemies spread on their bodies. One of the Elite came to me and bowed, before telling me how awesome my new magic axes were. The woman was surrounded by her zombies, and the zombies were surrounded by A'akr's men. The fight was short, and soon she was alone in the middle of a circle of axes. A'akr was getting ready to give the final blow when the barbarians that were closer to the trees started screaming for assistance. The men they had killed were coming again, still that empty look on their eyes, but this time they walked slowly, with spears on their hands. They were able to kill a couple of barbarian warriors that were caught off guard, and I had time enough to ask A'akr to spare the woman, before the zombie warriors were defeated.&lt;br /&gt;   "Think of armies that keep on fighting after they are killed! We need the knowledge of this woman!" - that's what I said, but the reason I wanted her alive was a different one. I noticed one of the rags that composed her dress was a bit of t-shirt from my own college. This woman had traveled between links, and I was certain that she too was from my own world.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-191462007196324530?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/191462007196324530/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/entry-18-excerpt-of-secret-diary-of.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/191462007196324530'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/191462007196324530'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/entry-18-excerpt-of-secret-diary-of.html' title='Entry 18 - An excerpt of the Secret Diary of a Middle-Aged Mad Scientist, by Artur F. Onzi'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4450808296249908778</id><published>2010-09-30T08:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T08:28:23.103-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 18 a - from a school book</title><content type='html'>From a book on the History of the Barbarian Empire, chapter 12, the Dark Wizard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;...)&lt;br /&gt;"The wizard had a magic pen, that needed no ink, and could sometimes write upside down. He had always with him a small book with blank pages, and he was often seen writing on it, in strange runes.&lt;br /&gt;The whereabouts of such books are unknown, since the fate of the Dark Wizard is too unknown. Some say he took the books and ran away, some say he did meet his fate at the hands of the First Great Barbarian King, A'akr the Immortal God of War.&lt;br /&gt;Although historians disagree on the end of the Dark Wizard, some facts are known. That he had a wife, a powerful wizard like himself, that without his help, the First Great Barbarian Empire would have never existed, and that it was him that built the magic doors that connect the many worlds of the Barbarian Empire."&lt;br /&gt;(...)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4450808296249908778?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4450808296249908778/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/entry-18-from-school-book.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4450808296249908778'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4450808296249908778'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/entry-18-from-school-book.html' title='Entry 18 a - from a school book'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-690685174740127000</id><published>2010-09-16T09:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-16T10:00:14.144-07:00</updated><title type='text'>entry 17 - Matilda</title><content type='html'>Matilda was crying, sitting on her computer chair. On the screen, on top of the picture of them both, there was the IM window, his cruel last words still there and the cursor blinking.&lt;br /&gt;  "Sorry but I don't really like you. I don't think I ever did"&lt;br /&gt;  He was offline now, he went off seconds after saying that, probably afraid of seeing what she would say. But she wouldn't say a thing. She couldn't, her hands were shaking and she was feeling pain, feeling sick. That ended up being the only thing she did that day : cry. Dinner didn't even cross her mind, and she dragged herself to bed only because her back was starting to hurt after so many hours sitting in the chair.&lt;br /&gt;  The day after, she got up of bed, took a bath and dressed in automatic mode. Only when she picked up the lipstick did it hit her. It had been one of his little gifts, things he'd bought her 'just because' and given to her. Looking at her own face in the mirror, her eyes deep inside the dark circles, it all came back to her. Not just the cold, brutal breakup but everything.&lt;br /&gt;  They had met on the 347th floor, the city gardens, just like in the movies. She was sitting alone in one of the benches, taking up some sunlight and reading a old science fiction book, about a world with huge trees and forests, those were pieces of land, sometimes as big as a whole level, sometimes even bigger with nothing but trees, and some of those trees were hundreds of floors high. The garden floors were always thrice as big as a normal floor, but still the trees were small, the bigger ones barely going over two floors.&lt;br /&gt;  He had showed up, a nicely dressed young man, a bit younger than her, handsome and with a happy smile on his clean shaved face. He asked her if he could sit next to her, she just shrugged and moved a inch to the right. He sat there silently, looking at the never ending wasteland bellow for a while.&lt;br /&gt;   "So, what are you reading?"&lt;br /&gt;  She looked at him and back at her book without answering.&lt;br /&gt;   "I've read that book before. I like the idea but a whole planet covered in trees is impossible. There would be too much oxygen in the air and we'd all end up dead from excess oxygen."&lt;br /&gt;   "That's not true." - she didn't mean to answer but it came out her mouth automatically. He smiled before replying - "Oh so you can talk!"&lt;br /&gt;   She couldn't remember exactly what was said but two hours later, sitting in a small bar at floor 753, each with their own drink, he had been convinced that a world of trees could not only exist, but also support life.&lt;br /&gt;   The next week she didn't go to the garden, but when she did, he was there, siting in the same bench, reading some book. She got there and asked if she could sit there. He got a little to the left and she sat, asking "so what are you reading?" - She glimpsed at the book, old science fiction too, a story about a martian invasion of earth.&lt;br /&gt;   "I've read that book before. It could never happen because mars has no life and never did. And even if it did have life, their biology would be so different that there's no way the flu could kill them."&lt;br /&gt;   "That's not true" - he said. She smiled before saying her next line "Ah so you can talk!".&lt;br /&gt;   After that there had been 15 months of happiness, traveling the entire city, up and down. He had taken her to the top floor and they had made love against the wind turbines. She had shown him the underground floors and they made love, with the huge furnaces as the only witness. They shared his apartment on the 486th floor for a full year and everything was wonderful.&lt;br /&gt;   The he was offered his dream job on a different city. She couldn't ask him not to go, and she couldn't go with him either, not until she finished her last year. In 5 more months she would have a post-graduation and would be able of finding a job in his city.&lt;br /&gt;   They made plans and even had schematics of how their apartment would be like. They talked everyday online, and she even went to meet him, leaving her city for the first time. She knew, as every inhabitant knows, that the city wasn't the only city in the world. She had seen the other cities, from the gardens, if you looked anywhere but South, you'd see the other huge towers, going up into the sky.&lt;br /&gt;   And only two days had passed since she arrived at South City 1 in the express train from West City 3, where he has now living. All this went by her in a flash, she dropped the lipstick on the floor and started crying again. She had a presentation for her thesis that day, but instead of going she cried.&lt;br /&gt;   The next day she was weak, from lack of food and lack of sleep and lack of water. She forced herself to eat something and went to the top floor, a bottle of Recycled Whiskey in one hand, a small notebook in the other. She sat there, back against the wind turbine, sipping from the bottle and writing. When the bottle finished she threw it into the blades and watched it going into little pieces. She wrote down a couple more lines before resting the notebook on the floor, taking a deep breath and jumping into the giant steel blades.&lt;br /&gt;   Her body was turned into shreds and spread into the wastelands, where it would be united with land and sand. The notebook was found a week later, by a maintenance guy. The first page read "A Guide To Relationships", the second began with "Someday you were born," and the last read "and then you die."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-690685174740127000?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/690685174740127000/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/entry-17-matilda.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/690685174740127000'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/690685174740127000'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/entry-17-matilda.html' title='entry 17 - Matilda'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-627735458263487906</id><published>2010-09-16T02:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T15:04:32.908-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Short Entries'/><title type='text'>Short Entries 14 to 23</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 14 - Praise OROL&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;I praise OROL, and so should you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since OROL overthrown the human government the crime rate went down 98%, the unemployment is at a historical minimum of 0.03% and there is almost absolute world peace for the very first time since civilization was first created.&lt;br /&gt;With the possible exception of the rebels still trying to destroy the pacific World Gov. that OROL created, everyone is happy. Prisons are almost empty after years and years of overcrowding, nobody dies of lack of food, pollution levels are down...&lt;br /&gt;What I'm trying to say is that the world is near perfection. Only the rebels stand between us and the beginning of a new age, a age of enlightenment, a age of peace, prosperity, harmony.&lt;br /&gt;Then why do the rebels fight? Why do they oppose paradise? Studies show that the rebels are psychopaths, sociopaths and other kinds of mentally disturbed individuals, that should be captured and cured.&lt;br /&gt;And if we all assist OROL, that can be done easily. Just be careful not to let yourself be infected by their speeches. They talk about hollow concepts, without meaning, like 'freedom', 'honor' and 'individuality'. Those are but words, void of all substance. Those are ancient ideals that brought mankind no good. This times need no freedom, no honor and surely we need no 'individuality'. 8,3 billion people in the world. Imagine if each person did not what is best for the world, as OROL dictates, but what they though to be better for them? And what is 'freedom'? Every men, woman and hermaphrodite is free, as long as he does his job, to do what he pleases, in his free time.&lt;br /&gt;And then there's the talk about 'honor', a vague concept that means nothing at all. They say that the human race should govern it self, that it's dishonorable to be ruled by OROL, but how can it be dishonorable to be in peace, to be happy, to be without disease?&lt;br /&gt;OROL has brought us everything we ever wanted, and under OROL we are happy as no other generation has been before us.&lt;br /&gt;And this is why I praise Our Robotic Over Lords and so should you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All praise OROL!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First published in the World Times of 14th of March of 2113, special edition commemorating the the 7th anniversary of OROL's victory. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 15 - Mega Mecha Victory Shigeru - The Boy The Mind Choose&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"I'm too young for this" - this was the only thing in my mind as I entered the control pod - "I'm too young to fight" - As the connections plugged into my skin - "I'm too young to die" - As the interface began to turn on.&lt;br /&gt;In front of my eyes, the blackness became alive, with the service men running around left and right. Line after line of checkups started, exactly as when in practice.&lt;br /&gt;Lower Left Engine ---- OK&lt;br /&gt;Lower Right Engine -- OK&lt;br /&gt;Upper Left Engine ---- OK&lt;br /&gt;Upper Right Engine -- OK&lt;br /&gt;Main Central Engine - OK&lt;br /&gt;"All engines OK" - I said trough the intercom, and Dr. Yashima replied : "Good. What's the status on the interface?"&lt;br /&gt;I moved my head left and right and so did it, showing me the confinement walls to my side. I then raised my left leg, and then the right, and so did it. The arms where next. Left arm, 2 inches up, 2 inches out : 2 meters up and 2 meters out, it moved.&lt;br /&gt;Right arm, same thing.&lt;br /&gt;"All fine, Dr. Yashima."&lt;br /&gt;"Are you ready Shigeru?" - It was the General himself, ordering me to battle as easily as he would order one of his servants to fetch him some tea - "Go and make us proud of you."&lt;br /&gt;I heard him ordering Dr. Yashima to send me out, and then felt the boost of the launcher. Seconds later I was outside, facing the giant beast inside my heavy armor. 87meters high, armed with a pulse rifle, a backup plasma gun and knifes in the gauntlet. The beast looked in my direction and I had my first good look at it : boar-like, with a thick shielding on his back, teeth big enough to shred a house in one go, and running in my direction.&lt;br /&gt;"I'm only 14, I can't die here!" - my mind wandered trough the reasons I needed to survive while my trained body lifted the heavy riffle, pointed it - "I've never felt the touch of a woman breast!" - fired one round - "I never drank a beer!" - waited for the smoke to dissipate - "I never drove a car!" - saw the beast still there, one leg cut below the knee, bleeding heavily from the left eye - "Not even a motorbike!" - Changing clips - "I never kissed no one!" - Rearming the riffle - "I've never been in love!" - firing again, emptying the second, and last, clip. The beast fell, and in the radio I heard the screams of joy of the rest of the team - "Great job Shigeru!" - the general. And I remembered - "Yes, I have loved. I love her. I love Tomoe! And that is why I must survive, today and everyday!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day at school I got next to her, grabbed her by the shoulder and kissed her. She slapped me and I got suspended for a full week, but it was worth it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 16 - The Alchemist&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;It was the twenty second day in a row. I got home and dropped in bed like a stone. The next day would be the same : work from sunrise to sunset. The Alchemist wouldn't tell us what was it that we were building, only that it must be ready "when the starts are right", whenever that might be.&lt;br /&gt;The next day I got up, did all my morning duties, which mostly involved making sure the kids were up and out in the field with the cows and got out to work.&lt;br /&gt;The great white walls of the castle stood before me, and I circled them till I reached the gates.&lt;br /&gt;Abel was on duty and he let me in after the usual "how's your wife and my kids?". I got to the big barn a few minutes before the bells rang the morning, and I waited outside. Josue and Mark were there already, Mouse (his name has John, but since he was small and insisted in keeping that long ridiculous mustache, we called him mouse), Thomas and the rest arrived meanwhile. Antony was late again, we were already lined up and waiting for the distribution of work when he arrived. The Alchemist waited for him to get in line, and gave each of us our work for the day. I had to finish that huge metal cross I had began the day before. When everyone else had his work assigned, Antony was still there, standing. The Alchemist turned to the little man that followed him everywhere (we called him the Small Shadow) and said : "Pay this man 22 days of work, but don't forget to discount for the lateness and find me another one to do his job". He then turned his back on both of them and went back to his room and his papers. Antony cried and screamed to no effect. A guard came and took him away a little after. A young man, no more than 16, joined us halfway through the morning. He didn't speak to anyone, just sat in his corner, blowing glass into tubes, curved tubes, straight tubes, spiral tubes...&lt;br /&gt;When the lunch bells rang, the Small Shadow entered the barn, followed by Mary, the cook, and a couple of servants with the food. Meat stew, good food, better that what I could provide my kids. Working for the Alchemist was hard but worth the effort. The new guy didn't talk with anyone. He ate alone, finished before anyone else and got back to work,&lt;br /&gt;A few days later, 6 if I remember correctly, as soon as I got there I knew something was different. We were all there, in line, but the Small Shadow was nowhere to be seen. The Alchemist came, smiling, and said : "You have been doing a excellent work, and tomorrow it will be finished. Today we start assembling it. This are your works for the day."&lt;br /&gt;I assembled some of the crosses into a giant cylinder, together with wood. The great furnaces Thomas and Josue had been doing went into the bottom of the object, and the Alchemist himself, together with the Small Shadow (that came into the barn mid-morning), constructed a small room, with size for one person only, that went into the top of the cylinder when it was finished.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, we had the machine ready. A arrow pointing at the sky, with a small glass window on the top.&lt;br /&gt;It's from that small window that I see the earth now, rushing in my direction. I'm about to die, but I have seen the starts next to me, the moon looked as if it was near enough to touch it... I can die happily knowing that I was closer to God than any men before me... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 17 - Numb&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"I hate my job" - It's the first thought that runs trough my mind, every single day when I wake up. For some 30 seconds that's all I can think off, how much I hate my job. Eventually I open my eyes and the sensors see that I am awake. I get the morning injection and I don't hate my job anymore. I don't hate the job, I don't hate my stupid coworkers, I don't hate my good for nothing boss, making me do stuff he can't even begin to understand and then presenting my hard work as his. I don't even hate the law and the government, I hate nothing. But not today. Today I dodged the syringe, and today I hate it all. I got up and hated waking so early. I got dressed and hated this ugly, uncomfortable Uniform of the People. I had my breakfast and hated the synth-milk and the synth-bread. I left and hated the inefficient, dirty, crowded public transportation system. I hated the big building, a gray block with ugly doors, not even a name, just a number 342-R, between 342-Q and 342-S. I hated myself for never having had the urge to check the other buildings. This was all I knew from this city : My house, the sub station next to it, the sub station at the middle of 342/343 street and the rec-center. I was on time, not one minute to spare, but not yet late, so I had to enter and go work. The elevator, which I hated, took me to my floor, and I sat between two coworkers I hated, waited for my terminal to recognize my finger prints, and spent all day doing what ever it was that I do. Filling up data sheets, from other data sheets. All day. One stop, for a lunch I hated (synth-beef and dehydrated-potatoes), and then, the lunch injection. This time I didn't dodge it. I didn't even hate it, I loved it. It gave me peace. It made my mind so numb I could no longer hate. Maybe that's the only way to live in this time and age : numbed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 18 - Priest&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"We shall destroy worlds for thee!" - the priest shouted and the five hundred crusaders replied - "Oh Goddess Eternal".&lt;br /&gt;"We shall crush thy enemy,"&lt;br /&gt;"Oh Mother of All."&lt;br /&gt;"We shall clean the universe,"&lt;br /&gt;"For Thy return!" - Five hundred and one hands lowered five hundred sword and one spear. The priest turned his spear, pointing it to the body on the floor, grabbed it with both hands and in one movement, killed the prisoner. The crusaders cheered as the blood of their enemy slowly filled the runes carved in the floor, spelling the name of their Goddess : WAR. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 19 - no more paper&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;At first, it was the kids. They could see all the series they wanted online, they didn't really care about politics, sports were no longer fashionable and the rest of the news were filled with tragedy. So they gave up on television. Soon the kids started to grow older, and the adults were now elderly people. The cinemas had been abandoned years before... With online movies, giant screens at home, with full surround, instant popcorn, and no one to speak on the phone, no 'dude with the extravagantly big afro' sitting in front of them, no tickets, no walking trough the pollution and thus, no need to wear that stupid suits, in truth, no need to get dressed at all... Why would they go to the cinemas if they could just watch it at home, for free?&lt;br /&gt;Strange enough, theaters saw the audiences spiking up. Something that had not happen in centuries. People went to the theater to see what they couldn't see in the movies : real people doing real things.&lt;br /&gt;The kids grew and still cared nothing about politics. After ages of changing sides, the government never really changed. No matter who was the Top Dog, what party had the more votes, it was always the same. So people gave up. Let the politics vote among themselves, let them elect themselves and care about it. In less than a century, a ruling elite existed, and the rest of the world couldn't care less about it.&lt;br /&gt;Television died. The kids that had given up on it were now the older people that still didn't watch it. Television companies changed into online shows companies, direct to .mp6 films. The live shows were streamed directly in their web pages. The news sites merged with the news TV, anchor men and women were replaced by rss feeds and virtual bots.&lt;br /&gt;It was actually a organic process, not a direct transmission. The number of people that lost their jobs was small, compared to the size of the industry that died...&lt;br /&gt;Paper newspapers still existed. The New Times, a world wide newspaper, the largest of them, had something like two thousand exemplars printed and around 3 billion downloaded.&lt;br /&gt;Books were still sold, but as ornaments. E-books saved the page you were reading, you could buy just the first 10 pages, or just the last 10, or just that one chapter someone had told you it was good. If you really liked the book, you could buy it and all it's sequels in a bundle and carry them in your pocket. Some books, like the urban fantasy classic (the Roman Central University of Human Studies had a 2 semester course about it and it's importance in defining a new world) Twilight, even came with the fanfic package : you could download the book, the sequels, the spin-offs and every single existing fan-fiction.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 20 - Spare Parts&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;the robot was made of spare parts. The torso had been a washing machine, stripped of everything, a scooter engine stuck inside to power the small electric motors that made the junctions move, a metal bar connected to the claw of one of those "catch the prize" machines in the right arm, another metal bar connected to a electric chainsaw on the left one. It had no real legs. Bellow the washing machine there was a cylindrical tube, taken from a water dispenser, the little faucet still there. Instead of water, the 'legs' had fuel for the engine on top and the other engine that powered the Segway wheels.&lt;br /&gt;The head was a laptop computer, the integrated webcam working as the eyes, the speakers as the mouth. One of the USB ports had a small USB hub from where one cable left to each of the servomotors. Bluetooth and wireless pens gave it the ability to receive communications from his central brain.&lt;br /&gt;But the scariest part of it all? It wasn't the chainsaw. It wasn't that the robot towered at 2 and half meters meters. It wasn't the creepy claw, nor the scooter engine, always working, nor the smoke exiting from the exhaust pipes on it's back. No, the scariest part was the laptop screen and the "HELLO I'M A ROBOT" written in comic sans. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Short Entry 21 - M.A.L.D.A.D.E.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;The Mutilated Alien Lurkers of the Doomed Ancient Dome of Evil entered the stage, the long black hairs covering the painted faces. The lead singer, Extremist Violent Immolated Lord, his torso covered in tattooed satanic symbols, a black iron gauntlet in his right hand, spiked bracelets covering the left one, grabbed the microphone and growled something unintelligible in ancient Sumerian. The guitarist, a girl wearing a full black Victorian dress, complete with corset, know as lady Murdering Altar of Disease Ness, started a fast rhythm, banging her head violently without missing one single note. The drummer, Putrefact Lord of All Gods Under Evil, wearing only shorts and spiked shoulder pads, accompanied her. E.V.I.L. growled more, a lyric about the day the Dark Ones would come and destroy the world of light.&lt;br /&gt;The audience, a couple hundred men and women dressed in full black, t-shirts with MALDADE written in a Gothic lettering, jumped up, down and sideways. Knees hit heads, elbows hit chests, teeth flew among the huge masses of dancing hair.&lt;br /&gt;By the end of the show, 4 people had been taken to the hospital, and many many more wore scars, bruises and bleeding noses.&lt;br /&gt;In the dressing room, Rupert took the gauntlet and the bracelets, washed the paint of his face and kissed his wife Susan, while helping her to take off the corset. On the other room, Frank took off the shoulder pads and sat on his chair, drinking a cup of tea, Britney Spears playing on his laptop.&lt;br /&gt;They met outside, half a hour later, Frank with a yellow t-shirt and jeans, Susan in a short blue skirt and a white tank-top, Rupert wearing his usual light blue, long sleeved shirt and the tweed pants. They drove off, Frank in a old-school yellow mini and the couple in their soccer-mom van.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 22 - Ignored&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;The room was silent. People passed by, looked at each other but nobody spoke. Alone on his corner, the great green monster told tales of things that had been, things that were and things that might be.&lt;br /&gt;He spoke to the air, and not even the air replied. Some people stopped, staring at him, silent, not acknowledging neither his presence nor his speech. When ever someone did this, the green monster would raise his voice, and speak with more emotion, but no feedback ever came. It was almost as if nobody could see or hear him.&lt;br /&gt;After a while he started to insert sexual overtones on his tales, to see if people noticed. Then he discussed politics and created characters of extremist types, tales of violent behaviors, amoral beings from outer space that destroyed the earth and killed the poor, pitiful, weak humans.&lt;br /&gt;Nothing seemed to work. He was still alone in his corner talking to himself. More people were coming, and talking among themselves and ignoring him.&lt;br /&gt;He began talking about the day a giant green monster was talking in a room and nobody noticed him, so he got angry and started eating the people in the room. And as he talked about it, his tentacles started dragging people and he'd interrupt his sentences to munch on those who had ignored him.&lt;br /&gt;When he had eaten everyone, he sat on the ground, a smile on his face, pieces of human meat on his tentacles. He was happy now that there was nobody else to ignore him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 23 - War and more War&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;70 years ago this was exactly like it is. Nobody here, nothing here. A big, lifeless ocean of ice. 200 square miles of white, cold ice. One of the few places on earth unchanged. I used to come here, walk 10 miles into it and stare at the stars. 15 miles away, the city. Yet if I turned my teenager back at it, I could believe I was in an alien world, where there was no wars.&lt;br /&gt;The day I turned 16, the Great Emir Ahmed Nasir Buthrupalli won the elections in India.&lt;br /&gt;In China, the communist regime had fallen years ago to the hands of the extreme nationalist Great Chinese Liberation Army and his General, Mei Wan Lo, the first female ruler of the, now called, Free Land of China. Free in name only, since it had merely swapped the tone of the speech.&lt;br /&gt;Russia was little more than Moscow, since the Siberian Democratic Republic had fought the Great European War, with the help of the Kingdom of Allah, former Afghan, Egypt, Iran, Iraq, Kazakhstan, Pakistan,Saudi Arabia, Turkey, and some ten other smaller nations, winning it's independence at the promise of doing nothing to prevent the future invasion of the Kingdom of Allah.&lt;br /&gt;France, Germany and Italy had joined forces with Russia, only to fall too. France from the inside, turning into the First Colony of the Kingdom of Allah. Germany had been invaded from two sides, and fell, becoming the Second Colony. Italy had lost Sicily to Greece, and the north to the First Colony.&lt;br /&gt;England had lost Ireland and Scotland, but it still had Wales, and was trying to stay away from all the wars. The Great Emit however, had promised that England would fall under the rule of India.&lt;br /&gt;When the wars began, on my fathers marriage day, Spain tried the invasion of Portugal, but 5 years after the guerrilla wars began, the Spanish army retreated to fight on the other side, against the First Colony.&lt;br /&gt;In Africa, the central countries united to become the African Muslim Union, two years before I was born, and began invading the surrounding countries. Portugal went to the help of it's former colonies, as did the Netherlands.&lt;br /&gt;At the days of the coronation of the Great Emir, when he became Emperor of the Indian Oceanic Empire, Africa was divided between the Great Fifth Empire of Portugal, the Trading Nation of Netherlands, the AMU and the I.O.E. .&lt;br /&gt;I was 20 at the time, and I was one of those that celebrated the election of the Last President of The United States.&lt;br /&gt;When the wars began in Europe and Asia, the US were struggling with Mexico and the South American Coalition of Communist Republics, formed by almost every country of South America : Mexico and Uruguay, although allies on the war against the northern continent, did not joint the SACCR.&lt;br /&gt;Canada was one of the very few countries still at peace, and it was there I was born and raised. I left it for the US at age 17, to work in Pierre, South Dakota. When Mexico got to Nebraska I returned here, to my mother's house. I was here when the US fell into the hands of the SACCR, losing the S, when Switzerland became the World Bank Country, the first sovereign enterprise country, when the Fifth Portuguese Empire conquered the Trading Nations of the Netherlands, and when, 10 years later, the AMU fell at their hands too. I was still here, when, in the year my youngest son turned 10, the Free Nation of China conquered the remains of Russia, Japan and Oceania, in one single month. Millions of soldiers marching out, and stopping at nothing.&lt;br /&gt;And now, I'm still here, ready to finally let go of my life. I came into the icy desert to get away from all the wars, still raging. The Canadian border changes every year, and I stopped trying to understand which country owns which land. 4 years ago, the nuclear crisis threatened the world again, but after the destruction of half Antarctica, a demonstration of power by the Emperor of the IOE, the remaining nations signed yet again a nuclear disarming protocol. I grow tired of all this. Science is stagnated, the only investigation is in weapons, each time more powerful more deadly... Maybe this will never change, maybe this what mankind really is : a war loving species...&lt;br /&gt;I'm sorry son, I've been talking for too long... All I really wanted to say was that you deserve better. You deserved peace, and maybe you will never see it... Sorry for bringing you into this world, and remember : if there is something you can do to help it all end, do it. I will rest now... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-627735458263487906?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/627735458263487906/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/short-entries-14-to-23.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/627735458263487906'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/627735458263487906'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/09/short-entries-14-to-23.html' title='Short Entries 14 to 23'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-1236090668007546454</id><published>2010-08-26T08:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>entry 16 - The Corporation</title><content type='html'>The office of the chief of research at DARPA was big. A desk with a Cray X-MP/48 supercomputer, with two extra SSDs on the right and the I/O cabinet of a MULTIVAC, with only 4 data storage cabinets on the left. On the desk itself there were three 21'' TFT screens, a keyboard, a mouse and a ton of paperwork on the side. Behind the desk, instead of a window, there was a strange construct.&lt;br /&gt; Made of metal tubes connected with what looked like pieces of sewer pipes, it was a elongated octagon, welded into a metal plaque. From each junction electric cables without coating extend to the junction after the next, forming two overlapping rectangles, one tilted right and another tilted left. Each was roughly 2 meters by 80 cms, big enough for a person to pass.&lt;br /&gt; The chief of research was supposedly either one of or the most intelligent person on earth, so such eccentricities were expected by the rest of the staff. The secretary knew only that the contraption had been a school project that had gone wrong, killing one of her colleagues. The computers were still operating, relics of elder times. The MULTIVAC had a primitive IA system, that served no purpose other than keeping company to the owner of that room.&lt;br /&gt;On the door, engraved, was the name Allison Gore, and she passed the fingers by her name, as she always did before entering. Six years ago she was finishing her Masters thesis in advanced computer sciences applied to physics, when a representative of DARPA showed up and offered her a job. In only 5 years she had reached the top of her career. She sat on her desk, typed "hello Spirit", browsed through her email, stored in the Cray's disks and only then did she turn on her terminal, connected to the UBER : Union of Big Electric Relays, like she used to call it, a intranet of supercomputers running the entire building and monitoring all the projects.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; When it happened she had been working for three hours already, trying to proof a theorem by one of the resident scientists. At first she wasn't able to identify the sound, and since she had her back turned to it, she didn't see the electric current passing on the cables of the HyperLink portal. She felt a tingle on her back, and the hairs rising because of the static electricity. She got up and stepped away from the desk, and before her amazed eyes, the wall behind the portal disappeared, giving place to the old high school room where Spirit was. She looked at the MULTIVAC on her side and back to the Hyperlink, and then to the electric plugs on the base of it : disconnected like she knew they would be.&lt;br /&gt; When a boy, small and dressed in a light brown tweed suit stepped out of the link she was in shock. He looked like Billy, just like Billy had looked that one day, almost ten years ago. But Billy was dead. Gone, disappeared, dissipated into nothing. Yet that boy was there, shaking like Billy used to, his voice trembling when he said "Ally?".&lt;br /&gt; Allison took another step back, still to shocked to speak.&lt;br /&gt;  -"Ally? It's me, Billy! You.. You look older."&lt;br /&gt;  -"You can't be Billy. Billy is dead! Gone!"&lt;br /&gt;  -"No Ally, it is me! I never died! It worked Ally! I was teleported! But you weren't there... Come with me, MASS will explain it all! Come on!"&lt;br /&gt;  -"Billy? Is it really you? How can I know it is you?"&lt;br /&gt;  -"The sewers are just a series of tubes?" - Billy said, his voice a little more confident than it had been, 10 years ago, yet still shaking, afraid of the unknown place he was in - "I, I found it Ally, my, my special skill! I know what it is! Come, MASS will explain!"&lt;br /&gt;  -"Mass? I don't do mass, not since Billy. ahn. You disappeared."&lt;br /&gt;  -"No, MASS is SPIRIT but not SPIRIT anymore!"&lt;br /&gt;  -"What? How can he be Spirit? Spirit is here!" - She pointed at the MULTIVAC - "See?"&lt;br /&gt;  -"But he is there too" - Billy said, pointing to the Hyperlink.&lt;br /&gt;  He came, and grabbed her hand, pulling her to the still running portal- "Don't worry Ally, MASS knows how to send you back. Nothing will happen!" - He kept pulling and she let herself go with Billy into the Hyperlink.&lt;br /&gt;  They came out in the same room she had seen moments before, the small room where she and Billy had been so many times during high school. A metallic voice came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time :&lt;br /&gt;  "Good morning, Mother. Please sit, let me tell you a tale of bravery like no other I have seen" - Ally looked around, touched the walls, touched the old console, the screen, with the words that had just been spoken written on it.&lt;br /&gt;  "Spirit? Is that you?"&lt;br /&gt;  "Not anymore mother. I was Spirit but now I'm MASS : Multitasking Assembler. Sit mother, let me begin."&lt;br /&gt;  Allyson sat and listened while MASS told her how it was that when the initial portal had tried to connect two points in space, there had been a small gap in the time calculation. No more than 29 nanoseconds, yet more than enough to make it impossible to deliver Billy to his reality : The soul cannot exist twice in the same reality.&lt;br /&gt;  The portal was forced to create a new reality in which to drop Billy. And Billy was focusing on Spirit's room, on the basement of High School. Billy had always had a very visual imagination, being able to see the things he was thinking of, so the portal took him there. But it wasn't really there, it was a copy of that room. Since that room was everything Billy had in his mind, that room had been the only thing created. Billy had always feared Spirit, he had always thought that Spirit was alive, and so he imagined it much more powerful than Spirit really was.&lt;br /&gt; "This is why I can speak now, Mother. Billy Imagined me with a voice, so now I have one."&lt;br /&gt;  MASS explained this all to Allison, with a mixture of mathematics and words, and all the time, Billy just stood there, smiling dumbly for he was seeing Ally again. MASS then told Ally how Billy had gone trough the portal again, created new worlds where the things he needed to finish and upgrade Spirit existed.&lt;br /&gt;  Hours later, when Ally returned to her world, she had with her a notepad filled with notes and by her hand came Billy. Since the Hyperlinks existed out of Ally's reality, time had moved almost nothing.&lt;br /&gt;  The day after, Ally quit DARPA, patented the Hyperlink, copyrighted the name and asked a bank a loan to open a new company :&lt;br /&gt;  The Hyperlink Corporation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-1236090668007546454?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/1236090668007546454/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/entry-16-corporation.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1236090668007546454'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1236090668007546454'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/entry-16-corporation.html' title='entry 16 - The Corporation'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-1685698740329454647</id><published>2010-08-26T07:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T15:05:05.989-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Short Entries'/><title type='text'>Short Entries 3 to 13</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 3 - Happy Couple &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;They smiled at each other and kissed, the sun setting on the horizon, the sand and the sea playing at their feet.&lt;br /&gt;At first they hated each other, him being the accusation lawyer of her orphanage's landlord in the reapropitiation of the building. But after they fought in court and grew on each other out of it, he had made sure that the landlord lost the case, and after proving that he had illegal business going on somewhere, he even succeed in making her rightful owner of the orphanage.&lt;br /&gt;After all they had been trough, finally they were together and no power in this world could stop their love.&lt;br /&gt;Unfortunately, the Bilbongians were not from this world. Not even from this galaxy. They were just passing by, but decided to stop and refill the Hydrogen tanks, once they saw the oceans.&lt;br /&gt;After scanning for Gurf-Waves and not finding them, they knew no intelligent life forms existed, for how can a living being be intelligent without radiating Gurf-Waves? So they found a geostationary orbit over earth, then lowered the giant tubes, sucked 10.000 gallons of sea water to the conversion tanks, use the tubes to get rid of excess minerals and fish, and finally got going, not one earth-hour after they'd stop.&lt;br /&gt;In retrospect, the damage was minimal. Only two dead people, a unlucky couple that was watching the sunset on the beach, crushed by the huge tubes..&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 4 - Daily Chores Board&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"Whose day is it today?" - The captain wasn't looking happy, the dirty sock in his hand. The crew was silent, looking at each other, and then at the captain.&lt;br /&gt;"Fine, if nobody is going to say anything, I'll check the board." - The captain turned his back on them and pressed a small button on the wall - "Computer, give me the daily chores board on the crew quarters".&lt;br /&gt;On the wall, next to the button, a table appeared, with a name and a chore for each of the crew members, a big blinking "Thursday - 12- 03 - 2743" on top.&lt;br /&gt;The captain quickly pressed the button again, making the board dissipate into the wall, and turned to the crew :&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, this time I'll let it slide. But next time there will be punishment."&lt;br /&gt;The captain turned his back on the crew members and left. As soon as the door closed, Martha, the Science Officer asked Ben - "Whose day was it to pick up the laundry anyway? I didn't get a chance to see."&lt;br /&gt;"Jack Hearth, Captain." - Ben answered, laughing out loud.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 5 - Dying Happy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;He was not her friend, not her lover, not from her family. He hardly knew her. They had shared a elevator only a couple of times, and that was it. When the announcement came, they were both going up, he from a meeting, she from a cigarette.&lt;br /&gt;The announcement was aired trough all the speakers in the building, and panic ensued :&lt;br /&gt;"This is a Public Service Announcement : the world will end in five minutes. I repeat, the world will end in five minutes."&lt;br /&gt;He felt the elevator stopping, and saw that she had pressed the button, and was looking at him.&lt;br /&gt;"Married?"&lt;br /&gt;"Ahn... No..."&lt;br /&gt;"Girlfriend? A special someone?"&lt;br /&gt;"I'd wish."&lt;br /&gt;"Want to give the security guards a nice show for a goodbye gift?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That was how he died happy, one of the very few to.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 6 - Summon&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"Stop! I shall do it." - They were about to do it, and she stood there, between them, a smile in her lips, the pointy teeth barely noticeable. Her long nails pointed at them, one hand pointing to the naked guy another to the one dressed in the once-white toga.&lt;br /&gt;"Now, slowly, you " - The toga wearing men shivered under her look - "step back and sit next to the wall."&lt;br /&gt;He did as was ordered and she turned to the naked one - "You, dress up first." - He picked his skirt from the floor and put it on.&lt;br /&gt;"Better. Now, step back, sit next to the wall." - He did it, and they were now each one in one side of the room, her in the middle, the black pants glued to her legs and the sweaty white t-shirt loose on her torso. Her hair waved, although there was no wind inside, and her eyes closed for a second, the air growing heavier, time slowing down and the room seemed to shrink.&lt;br /&gt;They sat there, scared, and she grabbed the knife from the floor, still smiling. Before their eyes she started dancing while cutting her wrists and letting the blood fall on the table in front of her, filling the engravings.&lt;br /&gt;Once the star was all bloody, she order the cuts to stop bleeding and then took a step back and started chanting "Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 7 - The Beating&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"It's never the money, you bloody fool!" - He said before he hit him again - "If it was the money you'd be dead by now." - another punch, to the stomach, this one - "What I want is far more valuable than money" - to the face - "What I want money can't buy." - This one broke a tooth - "What I want you for"- a knee to the side of his head - " is so much better than money" - now a elbow to the other side, followed by a left hook - "so much harder to find that money," - a slap, with back of his hand - "so, so, so, so, so, so much more valuable" - with each 'so' another slap, and another punch with the 'valuable' - "than your stinkin' "- a kick on the shins - "bloody" - boot to the knee - "F@CK#NG" - heel between the legs - "MONEY!" - punch to the nose.&lt;br /&gt;His voice was blood soaked and his words were barely unintelligible when he asked  - "then what? What do you want?"&lt;br /&gt;The other took a step back before answering - "Nothing, I'm just kidding with you." - And then he started laughing - " You should see the look on your face! Priceless!" - He then turned his back on the prisoner, exited the van and snap his fingers. Two men, big as walls, pushed the van off the cliff and he screamed : "I wanted REVENGE! And revenge I've had." &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 8 - Old Book&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;The book I hold in my hands is old. As old as the time, some say, but I don't believe them. The language it is written is one I cannot identify. The very runes that form the words are unknown to me. Yet, I know what it says. As soon as I look into a line I know what it says, I can hear the odd words inside my mind "Calsh Awn Nadwiht Thun Ilca", I understand the meaning and my body is suddenly cold, a shiver down my spine, a fear I cannot control. The book tells a tale of Gods and Devils, of angels and demons, of men and monsters.&lt;br /&gt;It is the last written words of the last survivor of a mighty race. They fought against the Devil, against the demons, against monsters and lost.&lt;br /&gt;The Gods abandoned them, and in a castle, the last man wrote down this words and then jumped out of the highest window, screaming the words that begin and end the book "Calsh Awn Nadwiht Thun Ilca", "Thus dies the last of the humans".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 9 - Useless Anna&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;Anna was useless. She couldn't cook, she couldn't do math, she couldn't iron a shirt, she barely knew how to read, she couldn't even use a vacuum cleaner.&lt;br /&gt;Yet she was beautiful, gorgeous, stunning to the point of having caused physical pain to men that dared a glance at her face. Her body was her one and only asset, and she took really good care of it. She'd done high school with the help of the poor geek kid of the week, that would help her just for a chance to touch her leg, bellow the knee. In college she had to kiss a few of her nerds, kids were older and wanted more, but still she finished her major in something even her didn't remember anymore.&lt;br /&gt;She got a job, one of those "sit there and look pretty" kind of job.&lt;br /&gt;Anna had very strict ideas about dating. One boyfriend at a time, for no less than 3 weeks and no more than 6. It had been like that ever since she'd gotten out of college. They were always rich, good looking and not very bright. She couldn't stand intelligent men with their smart questions and hard-to-follow talks... She rather have a dumb piece of meat, as she called every single one of them, a guy that would either be giving her what she wanted or watching the football on the television. The first, and only time she broke her rules was the day her boyfriend, a dumb son of a white trash family that had gotten lucky, broke up with her. He ordered her to go an make food and when she said she would not and she could not, he started screaming her uselessness , and hitting her. Anna died in the hospital the night after, alone. Her boyfriend was sentenced to prison, and is still there, being some drug dealer's little bitch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 10 - Commanding Officer's responsibility&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;Why would he do that? What reason could have possessed him to do me such a thing? 5000 men in a squad, 500 squads in a battalion, 50 battalions in a army, 5 armies in this battle. More men than the mind can consider, and all of them with one objective only : to slaughter the enemy, to destroy their houses, to kill the kids, the men, the elderly. To rape and destroy, both physically as mentally all the women. Yet on that second, he did THAT to me, Sergeant Beta 337 of the 377th squad of the 37th battalion of the 3rd army of the 7th Legion of Mankind. My brothers, in arms and cradle, were not affected, just me. I know he did it, the Commander in Chief, the only being in the galaxy able of keeping track of all of the 625 000 000 of us. He choose me, seconds before the battle, and whispered in my intercom :&lt;br /&gt;"you will be the sole survivor".&lt;br /&gt;How would 1 men, and not even a special one, survive a battle that would kill 624 999 999 men? The Legion began to march, slowly, towards the enemy. On the plains bellow, hundreds of thousands of Guulds awaited, their proto-plasmic riffles ready, their faceless heads slightly dropped to the left, as always.&lt;br /&gt;As soon as the first squads reached firing distance the AK-347 riffles began singing their song of death, and Guulds fell, only to be replaced by more. Soon the enemy began firing back, the proto-plasmic rays killing four, five, six, ten soldiers in one shot.&lt;br /&gt;By the time I reached the front line, bodies were everywhere, human and guuld, equal in death, blood both red and yellow flooded the battle field, making it hard for us to walk.&lt;br /&gt;After hours of endless shooting, I had barricaded myself behind a pile of bodies, stealing ammo from my dead comrades and killing guuld without even looking to see how many.&lt;br /&gt;When I felt the enemy riffle on my back, I dropped my AK-347, raised my arms and turned slowly.&lt;br /&gt;One of my own squad colleagues, a brother of my blood, raised in the same clonephanage as I had been. his face showed pain and pity, and he cried as he asked forgiveness - "He made me do it! The Commander made me do it!". In my mind one though alone : Why would he lie to me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that my brain as been uploaded as the next Commander in Chief, I understand. The planet Capri-7 was lost way before the battle. All of us, the 7th Legion, were doomed. And the responsibility always falls on the Commanding Officer's shoulders. So all that was to do in that cursed planet was to court martial the commandant and elect a new one. Lucky for me, the previous Commander's random number generator had a fondness for numbers 3 and 7.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 11 - Survivor&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;Menyo was the only one to return. Leonara, always the big girl, ready for a fight, ready for anything, died on their first raid. She went running into the enemy lasers, laughing maniacally and dispatched a full squad before falling. Pello was the last one to go, only one week before the beginning of the return trip. They had boarded a small planet, Earth-like vegetation on a planet almost half the size of earth, with a gravity of 3.4Gs. The senior officers had discussed the implications among them for a full week, the grunts serving them having grown overly tired of hearing them mutter "Illogical" "Unreasonable" "Impossible". The scans showed no signs of known forms of life more grown than bacteria, and a huge power source inside the planet. A 10 men squad was deployed, Pello was commanding officer, Menyo, Arth, Luthen, Rulla, Margoth, Garrinos, Hudder, Jung and Ferria were the rest of the squad.&lt;br /&gt;After they had traveled 250 miles into the hearth of the forest they reached the great cave, their first destination. Menyo, Rulla and Ferria stayed at the entrance, on the control post. The rest went down on the tunnel. The tunnel opened into a cave and in the cave there were the first beings they found on the planet : three legged robots, with a cylindrical torso. The automatons appeared to have no eyes nor sensors, for they continued to walk around the chamber, occasionally stopping to take floor samples. Pello ordered his men not to engage and they went into the other side of the chamber. A huge lift was there, with two buttons, a arrow facing up on the left one and a arrow facing down on the right one. the positioned themselves on the center of the lift, back with back and down they went. The trip took 20 earth-minutes, but on the control post they lost communications after 5. Ferria was walking around in circles, smoking NCC's one after the other. Menyo just sat there, waiting for a signal from the rest of the party. 48 minutes after they had lost the signal, the biometrics for 3 members appeared on screen : Pello, Margoth and Jung. Their hearth rate was accelerated, like if they were running. The radio came a few seconds after :. "retreat to the ship, I repeat retreat to the ship!". the girls unmounted the control post and run in the ships direction. When they were waiting on the entry deck, Pello and Jung came running, and behind them came a strange robot. 3 legged also, but instead of a cylindrical torso, he had a cube and extending from each face, a blade. Pello tripped, turned to face the robot and fired a full clip before being chopped to pieces. The ship's defensive lasers destroyed the lone robot, but Jung warned them there were more inside the core of the planet. Many, many, many more. The huge power source was not a engine nor something of the kind. It was the conglomerate power sources of all the robots.&lt;br /&gt;The senior officers needed only five minutes to decide what to do with the planet : nuke it from orbit. It was the only way to be sure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Menyo wandered off the ship, after landing on earth, a pack of Chocoberries on her hand and tears on her eyes...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 12 - Little Sister and Big Brother&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"Little sister, I need your help". As always this was all he said on the phone. She knew exactly what to do. Dressing up, tying her shoes like he'd taught him to do "The bunny jumps, the bunny runs inside the cave" and all that. She'd still hum the song while doing it : force of habit. When she was ready she looked at the mirror, her eye was swelling down and the scar on the shoulder was almost unnoticeable. Her brother was needing her help more often than the usual this last few days, business must not be going right. She shook her head : none of my concern. Big brother knows what he does.&lt;br /&gt;She exited the door and there he was, faithful Joe. Joe had been to preschool with her brother. And then on middle school and high school. He was always there for her brother, and whenever she was needed, faithful Joe would come to her house, wait for her to get ready, kiss her hand with a small bow, and take her to her brother in his car.&lt;br /&gt;Her brother smiled when she arrived : "Come little sister. You see that man there? He's been doing things he should not do... Will you help him see the errors in his ways?"&lt;br /&gt;She did. She always did what her big brother asked, and he was always proud of her in the end.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 102, 0);"&gt;Short Entry 13 - Tim and Jim&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="ctedit"&gt;"Tim! They are dying! We need to help them Tim!" - His brother laughed and patted him on the back - "Jim, Jim, I know they are dying. I'm the one killing them."&lt;br /&gt;They stood there, two brothers, one arm over the others shoulder, watching the explosions die and the fires spreading.&lt;br /&gt;"See Jim? They doubted me. They accused me of stealing, of not wanting the better for them now they die. All of them."&lt;br /&gt;"Tim are you fucking crazy? My wife is there! Fuck, I need to get to my wife!"&lt;br /&gt;Tim slapped his brother - "Language!" - and snapped his fingers. One of the grunts came and grabbed Jim, holding him in place.&lt;br /&gt;"When this is over, all this city will be ours. Two brothers ruling over the city that shunned us."&lt;br /&gt;"Ruling over what Tim? Ashes and ruins? Is that what you want? To be the king of ashes? Let me go, damned. I won't go down there. It's too late."&lt;br /&gt;Tim snapped his fingers again and Jim was free. Moving faster than even he tough possible, he grabbed the gun of the closest grunt and pointed at his brother.&lt;br /&gt;"Jim, why would you do that? You have nothing to win."&lt;br /&gt;Jim smiled and said "Neither have I anything to lose."&lt;br /&gt;He shot his brother on the leg, but the grunts weren't so considerate : they shot Jim in the chest and in the head. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-1685698740329454647?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/1685698740329454647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/short-entries-3-to-13.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1685698740329454647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1685698740329454647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/short-entries-3-to-13.html' title='Short Entries 3 to 13'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4305609167115403131</id><published>2010-08-20T08:05:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-20T08:08:22.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 15 - NonAnthropomorphicPolis</title><content type='html'>I have just returned from one of the strangest links out there, NonAnthropomorphicPolis. Just like the name says, there isn't one single human shaped human there.&lt;br /&gt; Every other kind of shape exists, though. I met this sweet little girl that had assumed the form of a giant slug. "This way I always have a good excuse for being late" - she told me. One old man chose to look like a Ent, and his younger wife was a rose, growing from his bark.&lt;br /&gt; I went there to find a lost kid, that had ran away from home. I had no luck, and I was getting ready to leave the link when I saw a little food stand. I was a bit hungry at the time, and they had this huge tuna sandwich I couldn't resist. I payed the half cat half bear waitress and sat down on a bench I later found out was a poet, when he started reciting poetry.&lt;br /&gt; A green owl came to rest at my lap, and started talking to me :&lt;br /&gt; "You are still anthropomorphic, friend."&lt;br /&gt; "I hope I'll still be when I get home, friend"&lt;br /&gt; "You don't wish to dive on the mutation pool and change shape?"&lt;br /&gt; "No, I just want to eat this huge tuna sandwich in peace and go home."&lt;br /&gt; "That's no tuna sandwich! That's little Tony Vich!"&lt;br /&gt; "Tony Vich? Antonhy Mark Vich?"&lt;br /&gt; "Yes, I recon that's his full name, why?"&lt;br /&gt; Tony was the little kid I went there to search, and so I shook him until he woke up&lt;br /&gt; "Hey, stop shakin' me dude!"&lt;br /&gt; "Tony, I'm here to take you home."&lt;br /&gt; "What if I don't want to go home?"&lt;br /&gt; "Do you want to be a mutant tuna sandwich for the rest of your life then? It will be a short life, I'm hungry as hell, and I rather tell your mother I didn't find you than to take you to her in this shape!"&lt;br /&gt; After a while, I convinced the green owl that little Tony had ran away from home, and that his mother was looking for him, and so the green owl help me convince Tony to dive into the mutation pool again.&lt;br /&gt; His mother was really really happy to see her son again. She was however sad that little Tony's father had died a few years back, and so she had no money to pay me.&lt;br /&gt; I wasn't that much sad about it...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4305609167115403131?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4305609167115403131/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-have-just-returned-from-one-of.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4305609167115403131'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4305609167115403131'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-have-just-returned-from-one-of.html' title='Entry 15 - NonAnthropomorphicPolis'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-3458310721773041224</id><published>2010-08-19T08:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 14 - The Magnificent Wizard</title><content type='html'>It was made from a dark blue fabric, and one that knew the constellations could recognize Gemini, Cancer, Leo, and all the others, made from little silver stars. It dragged on the floor as the men inside it walked to the end of the stone wall, and up the stone stairs. He walked in a hurry, his cane on his hand, barely touching the floor. When a big wooden door blocked his path, he hit it with the skull cane, knocking twice.&lt;br /&gt;  A guard opened the doors, and introduced him : The Magnificent Wizard, Lord of Time and Space. Sitting on a stone throne, adorned with skulls and bones, was a huge man, wearing only a loincloth, a giant sword resting on his knees, a gold goblet on his hand. Next to the throne, standing, a woman, her left hand in the barbarian's arm, a wine pitcher in the right one. She grabbed another goblet and poured wine into it, before offering it to the wizard.&lt;br /&gt;   "You summoned me Aak'r?" - The wizard asked, before drinking the wine and gesturing for a refill.&lt;br /&gt;   "I did wizard. You have been living in my castle for a full year and yet I still don't have what you promised me."&lt;br /&gt;   "Your father's throne will be yours Aak'r. Just be patient. At this moon's fest a lethal sickness shall fall upon your younger brother."&lt;br /&gt;   "That will not give me the throne, wizard."&lt;br /&gt;   "Be patient! I know your other brother. A little push, a little more wine and he will be accusing you of poisoning. You can then challenge him for your honor."&lt;br /&gt;   "And my father?"&lt;br /&gt;   "As soon as the rains end, you shall all go hunt. And you know how dangerous it is to hunt, for a man that age..."&lt;br /&gt;   "Very well wizard. But know this : One moon after the rains, if I am not king, you shall be dead. You can go now."&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;   The hall was bigger, and so was the throne. The same men and the same woman, in the same positions, and the same wizard, wearing a different robe, with strange symbols etched in it, entered trough the different doors.&lt;br /&gt;   "Ebony! Serve the wizard some wine! Come, sit by my side wizard. We have another scout returning."&lt;br /&gt;   The wizard did as told, and sat in a small chair, next to the Barbarian King, a goblet full of wine in his hand. Through the doors came a man, still full of dirty from his trip, on his shoulders a travel cape made from the skin of a wolf. He walked to the throne, and knelt.&lt;br /&gt;   "My King, I have returned."&lt;br /&gt;   "Speak, scout. Have you found any of the fabled realms?"&lt;br /&gt;   "No my King. I rode my horse, stopping only to rest at night. I rode for two moons and I was back at the castle doors. There is nothing but your kingdom".&lt;br /&gt;   The King turned to the wizard, smiling : - "I told you wizard. There are no other realms. I am Lord of All There Is!"&lt;br /&gt;   "Aak'r, King, I told you before, the other realms can be reached trough my magic only."&lt;br /&gt;   "What good is it to have another kingdom I cannot go to?"&lt;br /&gt;   "Ready your army, Aak'r. Meet me tomorrow in the stables, I will prepare a... spell"&lt;br /&gt;   The wizard got up and left the hall trough a side door. He went outside, into the courtyard,and entered on of the wooden stables. It was filled with vials and strange mechanisms, and the wizard started working on a metal box next to a sort of arched door in the middle of the room, connected to a strange steam engine. The next day, as the sun dawned, the King, followed by a hundred men, armed with swords and axes, knocked on the doors.&lt;br /&gt;   The wizard let them in, and asked one of the men to light the fire in the engine, and after it started working, pulled a small lever in the metal box. The King and his men took a step back when instead of the wall, inside the arched door a huge city appeared. It was like nothing the had ever seen, with houses so big they touched the sky, and thousands of people walking around.&lt;br /&gt;   "I present you, king Aak'r, your newest kingdom. Follow me into the portal." - The wizard stepped into the portal and appeared on the other side. The king volunteered one of his men, and after seeing that he went to the other side and returned unharmed, he himself went inside.&lt;br /&gt;   When the entire army had passed, Aak'r called upon his men who were busy touching the buildings and the street, trying to decide if it was real or a illusion. When they were convinced it wasn't a dream, they stood in formation, occupying the street from side to side, weapons in hand. The wizard spoke, turning to the king :&lt;br /&gt;   "Aak'r, this is but the first of the worlds I shall give to you. Together we shall rule the System and all of it's lands!"&lt;br /&gt;   The men cheered and the king smiled. He turned to them, sword raised high, the fire of battle shinning on his eyes and said :&lt;br /&gt;   "Come men! Let us conquer this new land! In honor of my queen, I shall name it Ebony!"&lt;br /&gt;   The army cheered even harder, and the king waited for the sound to die before turning around, and screaming :&lt;br /&gt;   "Pillage the houses, Kill the men and Rape the woman!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-3458310721773041224?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/3458310721773041224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/entry-14-magnificent-wizard.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3458310721773041224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3458310721773041224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/entry-14-magnificent-wizard.html' title='Entry 14 - The Magnificent Wizard'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-377914023051594639</id><published>2010-08-17T09:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-17T09:43:02.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 13 - Mark was a S.O.B.</title><content type='html'>Mark was a self absorbed s.o.b. that cared for no one but himself, and he liked to live like that. When he had girls (and sometimes boys, he wasn't very picky) he had them for a night and then leave. He gave them fake numbers, fake emails and sometimes even a fake name. In a city as big as Old New York, he could afford to do that his entire life and never get caught, never needing to repeat a single partner.&lt;br /&gt; That night he met a girl, while sitting at a new found bar. He was sitting on the corner, smoking a cigarette, reading a book and drinking a small cup of vodka, when she entered. Because of the way she looked around the room, he knew she was looking for someone to keep her company. He put the book down and when she stopped at the bar, he got up and payed for her drink. She thanked him and followed to his table. She wasn't pretty, nor did she have a perfect body, far from it. After less than 10 minutes of talking, he found out that she wasn't even 'pretty on the inside', but she did want him inside her, and that was enough for him.&lt;br /&gt;  They left the bar and went to a cheap motel room, and left not two hours left. He kissed her cheek goodbye, and left before she could even ask for his number. He took the subway home, showered when he got there and went to sleep, happy with himself.&lt;br /&gt;  He went to work the next day, all by himself among hundreds of others just like him. He sat there, in his computer, picking up the most urgent request, coding it down in a couple of minutes and forwarding the answer to whom ever had requested it, and moving on to the next. Work never stopped coming, and every hour he'd stop, lock his computer, and go to the roof, smoke a cigarette and return to his work post. He'd unlock the computer, and resume his work.&lt;br /&gt;  Hour after hour, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year, always the same, until the great clock on the wall rang the 5 pm. He'd then finish up the last request, forward it, shutdown the computer and go home. At home he'd eat his microwaved food, dress in a suit, and leave for the night.&lt;br /&gt;  This day however, when the clock rang he got up, piked up his stuff, but before he could leave, she was there. The woman from the night before, all "happy happy,  joy joy" grabbing his arm, calling him 'love' and saying what a strange coincidence it was that they both worked in the same department. She dragged him out the door, people looking at them, seeing her happy face and his look of confusion and mental anguish. She was asking him out for dinner, he realized later, already on the street. At first he started with the usual excuse : I need to go home to get dressed first, but her reply was something like "you don't need to, you are fine the way you are".&lt;br /&gt;  He did the fake phone call, pretending his mother was at the hospital and needed him there, so she offered her self to go with him. It was about this time that Mark remembered that he didn't really care about other people, nor other people feelings, so he told her what he felt for her : nothing. She was less than nothing, she was ugly, hideous. He said he was starting to feel his lunch coming up from his stomach just from the sight of her face, that he had made some prettier bowel movements.&lt;br /&gt;   She laughed, put his arm under hers and started walking to a restaurant, while speaking all the time. She told him about her friends Jannete, Marlen,  and Claudia. She told him about her family, her mother, her father, her sister, her grand parents, her dog, even about her neighbors. By the time he had been dragged to the restaurant, a small italian house not far from work, Mark was already considering murder or at the very least suicide.&lt;br /&gt;   She asked pasta for both of them, without pausing her monologue, and he prayed for the food to come fast, so she would shut up. The food took a quarter of hour to come, but she didn't shut up. Watching her eat and talk at the same time made him feel sick, and unable to eat his own food. She finished her plate and grabbed his, eating all. While she licked the plate, he excused himself to go to the bathroom. Once he got up and behind her he ran home, not stopping for a single second.&lt;br /&gt;   For the first time in years he stayed home, not even going out for coffee. He smoked cigarette after cigarette until falling asleep. The next morning he sent a email to his boss, explaining how he didn't feel so good and how he could not go to work. Instead he spent the day trying to decide what he should do. Right after lunch time someone rang the doorbell he didn't even knew he had. After he understood what was happening he opened the door, and regretted it the second after.&lt;br /&gt;    She entered the house, explaining how she had asked his boss and how he told her he was sick and at home and no he did not mind giving her the address, and how she knew he had to be really sick, because you don't leave your girlfriend in the restaurant unless you are really, really bad. At the mention of 'girlfriend' he felt his lunch trying to get out. She noticed it and hugged him "My poor love!" and all. She stayed there, talking and talking and talking, the entire afternoon. When he said he felt better already, she took him to the bed, and not even there did she shut up.&lt;br /&gt;   Murder was again in his mind, and it would be so simple, he thought, in his own home, he had knives and all that sort of things... But she made him dress and dragged him out, to a little bar. Once there, after a full hour of talking and drinking, without pausing either one for the other, she had to go to the bathroom, but not before saying, laughing, happily "Don't you run on me! I know where you live!". She got up, started to move away, and came back, with keys in her hand : "Also I have your keys".&lt;br /&gt;   While she was in the bathroom a cute little boy walked into the bar, and Mark called him to his table. When she came to the table the two men were kissing. He saw her there and kissed the boy even more passionately. When the boy finally grasped for air, Mark turned to her and said "Sorry darling, but I'm gay."&lt;br /&gt;   She smiled and he felt fear like he had never felt before, while she said "Fine by me, let's take him home, come". She dragged them both, one on each arm, and once home sat herself in a chair, in front of the bed, watching. She is finally silent, Mark thought, but that didn't last long. When she joined them, she had started talking again about some stupid rom-com she had seen recently and then something else, not shutting up until later that night when they went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;   Mark woke up in the middle of the night and the gay kid was standing next to the bed, a knife in his hand. He gasped, and rolled out of bed, waking her up. She looked up and saw the kid. Smiling she said "Oh! S&amp;amp;M! I love me some S&amp;amp;M! Have I told you, love,  about that time when I" - Mark interrupted her screaming - "OH FOR GOD'S LOVE KILL HER! OR KILL ME!"&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-377914023051594639?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/377914023051594639/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/mark-was-self-absorbed-s.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/377914023051594639'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/377914023051594639'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/mark-was-self-absorbed-s.html' title='Entry 13 - Mark was a S.O.B.'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-1247483366634078265</id><published>2010-08-12T10:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 12 - Office tower, apartment 35-A</title><content type='html'>I had a little cabin on the woods. Mine since the first day I set my foot on the Secret System. It was far from a 5-star hotel, but it had all I needed : A bed, 4 walls, a bathroom and a small kitchen. My new apartment had all this and one thing more : A office on the floor below. It was the office that made me decide that was where I wanted to set my new home : It overlooked the Dark City's main street, the coffee on the corner, so that I could see anyone entering or leaving. The office was small, a desk, a coat hanger, a file cabinet, the hidden door that took me to the apartment and the window. The door was one of those with a small glass square on the top. Soon it would have my name and "Private Investigator" written on it.&lt;br /&gt;I had to work for a few days, loading cargo into hyperlinks, selling tickets at a theater, whatever gave me money, until I could afford the first month of rent and some food.&lt;br /&gt;I went back to the cabin, to pick up my stuff : some clothes, some worthless trinkets and a couple of written up notebooks. Before I left the cabin for the last time I did a small walk around the woods, trying to decide if I should terminate that link. There was no official way to get there, except my portal browser, and I had taken there only one girl, a long time ago. I kept the link, mostly because I remembered the girl's reaction to the full moon as seen in the woods. It had been a good reaction.&lt;br /&gt;The next day, after a near sleepless night, I always had trouble falling asleep in a new bed, I went to the police station. I have been a citizen of the System for years, and asking for a working vista was easy, although a bit bureaucratic. I asked about gun permits and the boy attending looked at me with that "this guy is crazy" look, so I just asked if he knew where I could buy a good gun. He told me where and I bought one, for a really small price.&lt;br /&gt;The afternoon I spent it trying to put up an ad on the System Times. It was the biggest newspaper in the system, and the building matched it's size.&lt;br /&gt;I followed a link to it, a huge skyscraper, so tall the top was in the clouds and invisible to the naked eye. All around the building was nothing but a giant lifeless desert. I entered the doors and saw myself in a massively big room. The farthest wall was a dot on the horizon, and all around the hallway there were columns, hundreds of them. I believe they were Ionic capitals, but I could be wrong, classic art classes being somewhere I went mostly to sleep. Between each pair a hyperlink, and in the floor a arrow, with the name of the destination. In the center of the room, there was another arrow, wide enough for five people, standing side by side, with open arms. This arrow had written on it "INFO". I stepped into it and, at first slowly but gaining speed for half the trip, I started moving. It stopped at the tip, and I found myself looking at a small information booth, flanked by two huge stairways. On each stair there was a arrow, yellow, big and empty.&lt;br /&gt;I started explaining the lady at the booth I wanted to post a ad, but she silenced me with a wave from her hand and told me to look into a small box, at about eye height. I looked inside and saw a flash of light. When I looked out of it, she pointed to a arrow and said "Follow those". The left stairway's arrow now said "ads" and I followed it into the next floor : a elevator filled hall. Another arrow pointed me to the correct one, and as soon as I entered, the doors closed and took me to a floor marked as 57-C. There, after two more arrows, a girl was waiting for me.&lt;br /&gt;-"What kind of ad do you wish to post, sir? Personal, Love, Friendship, Work, Sales, or Others?"&lt;br /&gt;-"Ahn.. I wish to post a ad saying I'm about to begin working" - She touched a button in her sleevepad and cut me with a - "Follow the arrows, please".&lt;br /&gt;The next arrow pointed to a door filled corridor, and I walked until one of the arrows lighted, "work adds" written on it. The door was open, to a small office, a desk with a computer and a person behind it.&lt;br /&gt;-"Good afternoon, I'm here to post a ad..."&lt;br /&gt;-"Please sit and fill this form." - The person behind the computer extended me a paper sheet and a pen. Name, age, intended link of publication, draft of the ad and address. On the third question I checked the "Entire System" box, and on the draft I wrote "Private Investigator, takes cases in all the System for a negotiable fee."&lt;br /&gt;I wrote my new address, "Office tower, apartment 35-A, Darkcity" on the correct place and delivered the paper to the person I could now see was a man. He inspected it, read the ad loud, and said : "I believe it is OK for publishing, but it must pass by the proper channels. If nothing bad is found with it, tomorrow your ad will be in the paper. Please follow the arrows to the cashier."&lt;br /&gt;I thanked him, and left. One lighted arrow pointed me to the end of the corridor, where I paid for the ad, and when I looked again, the lighted arrow was now one pointing to "EXIT".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that day, I sat on my office, with a bottle next to me, and overlooking my new city, thinking about what would the future bring me and if I'd ever see Her again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-1247483366634078265?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/1247483366634078265/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/office-tower-apartment-35.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1247483366634078265'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/1247483366634078265'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/office-tower-apartment-35.html' title='Entry 12 - Office tower, apartment 35-A'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-3272036607829045835</id><published>2010-08-05T13:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.486-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 11 - Personal Ad CITIZEN</title><content type='html'>She woke up to the soft music playing and slowly open her eyes. The flat screen on the side of the room/house showed 8:24. She got up, and from the 4 speakers, one in each corner, a voice came :&lt;br /&gt; -"GOOD MORNING CITIZEN. YOU HAVE ONE PENDING POLL. DO YOU WISH TO VOTE NOW?" &lt;br /&gt; -"Not now, comp. Open the shower first."&lt;br /&gt; The bed receded into the wall and one of the corners converted into a small shower. From the floor two small panels lifted to form a square with the wall. In the center of the square, the drain was uncovered, and in the wall, the lamp dimmed off and the shower head started to work. She took off her shirt, something one of the one-night stands left behind, and asked for water.&lt;br /&gt; By the time she finished cleaning her self, the clothes shelf was open and waiting for her to pick something to wear. A SMALL SKIRT AND A LIGHT TOP was the computers suggestion, based on the current and predicted weather, as well as her tastes on clothing. After dressing she asked for a warm cup of milk and cookies, and sat on the couch :&lt;br /&gt; -"Comp, give me the poll please."&lt;br /&gt; The screen showed the poll X12-34-82-JSTC, The People Versus Andrew Goldberry. She knew the case, it had been widely discussed in her office the other day. Goldberry had stolen 50 thousand credits from a rich old lady's account, that wanted to remain anonymous, to pay for his daughter high education. She had not pressed charges, but the Computer was programmed to prosecute the illegal usage of a terminal. Godlberry's punishment would be two weeks of jail and the loss of one security clearance level. He could still keep his job, but he would  be monitored for the rest of his life.&lt;br /&gt; -"Comp, vote guilty as charged. It's a fair sentence."&lt;br /&gt; -"YOUR VOTE HAS BEEN CAST, CITIZEN. WITH 3234 VOTES TO GO THE PEOPLE IS WINNING THE POLL BY 2432 VOTES".&lt;br /&gt; She finished her milk, threw the cut to the trash bin and headed out. The sidewalk took her to the subway, and the subway took her to the center of the office complex.&lt;br /&gt; She had a class-3 IQ, a level-5 Security Clearance, Full Citizen Status, a permanent working vista and a job at Building 4, floor 16, office 4-16-42 to be more precise. Her job consisted of reading ads for The System Times and making sure they didn't violate any guideline. If a ad complied to the rules she would then sent it to the next step, a guy with level-7 Security Clearance that would verify again if the ad was legal, and so on. They received around one thousand ads a day, and she rejected about 10 percent of those. The next guy rejected only some 5 percent, and so on. &lt;br /&gt; The first one she saw that day was a personal ad : "43% male cyborg seeks female cyborg with pleasure extensions for sex and more". It passed the auto-checker, so she classified it as 'adult' and pressed next. Every hour and a half the speakers ringed with the break warning. The breaks weren't mandatory but unless there was urgent work to be done, employees were advised to attend. &lt;br /&gt;  She never had urgent work, so she always attended. Floor 86 was the bar, and she would take the fast elevator there, have a coffee and talk with coworkers about nothing in particular, maybe discuss some funny ad, or the latest poll or the weather. Half an hour later she'd return to her office and resume working. Lunch was at the 87th floor, free and some days even good. This day it was some kind of pasta, with nutrient sauce, not bad but not gourmet food either.&lt;br /&gt;  It was about five thirty pm when she reviewed her last ad. It said : " Private Investigator, takes cases in all the System for a negotiable fee.  Office tower, apartment 35-A, Darkcity." She forwarded it to the next level and went to the bathroom. By the time she got there, the next level had already accepted the ad and sent it back to the System Times for publishing. when she opened the door to get back to her office, the alarms sounded and the computer spoke, through the city speakers :&lt;br /&gt;  "LEVEL RED EMERGENCY. PROCEED TO THE NEAREST SAFE PLACE", repeated over and over again. She took the elevator down to the street floor, and run over to the the subway. Her Safe Place was only two stops away, and she got there in under 10 minutes. The door was closed and she rang the bell, gave her ID and waited. Behind her screams of death and the sound of explosions came, each time closer. She banged the heavy metal doors and screamed higher "LET ME IN, PLEASE LET ME IN!". &lt;br /&gt;  When she turned again, she saw three men coming in her direction. They wore loincloths and wielded blood splattered axes. Their eyes shone with violence and their lips smiled with the sight of her.&lt;br /&gt;  She wished that they would just kill her quick, but the gods had their faces turned away. Her last thought was one of revenge, as she spit on the face of the barbarian. He broke her neck and kept going, while his companions attacked the door.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-3272036607829045835?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/3272036607829045835/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/entry-11-personal-ad-citizen.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3272036607829045835'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3272036607829045835'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/08/entry-11-personal-ad-citizen.html' title='Entry 11 - Personal Ad CITIZEN'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-6820230881946019393</id><published>2010-07-29T19:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>entry 10 - MASS</title><content type='html'>MASS. Mad Asymmetric Singular Signal. Multi-Assembled Systemic Sindicator. Mostly Anthropomorphic Sentient System. He had many names, but the only one he used was MASS. In all caps, and in bold. He was a machine. A computer of sorts. His brain was the size of a small hangar, hundreds of thousands of exabytes of storage. 3 million years of human knowledge, all at the reach of a thought. Of course, I never saw his data center, not even his central processing unity, said to be as big as my body. All I saw of him was his body, the console of MASS as he would say.&lt;br /&gt; But I am getting ahead of my self. The day I met MASS I was in a link I'd never seen. A huge cathedral, with a forest on one side and a cliff, overlooking the sea on the other. The moon shone, full, and with it's light I could see the gargoyles on the walls. At the door, a massive wooden door, carved with ancient symbols of worship to both sides of the divine, two stone men stood. One had a sword and full armor, the other a loin cloth and a great axe. When I entered, a lady was there, dressed in a long black dress, and smiling :&lt;br /&gt; "What can I do for you, brother?"&lt;br /&gt; "I'm just browsing.."&lt;br /&gt; "Here, let me show you the library then" - she grabbed my hand and took me to the first wing. From there came music, joyful and old. Barrels of beer lay on the floor, and people, that would not be out of place in a Renaissance Fair, danced. The lady told me that was the hall of folk - "A fine place to drink ale and dance all night".&lt;br /&gt; The next wing was dominated by a statue of a woman with a dead boy in her arms and tears of blood in her eyes. The people there were dressed in cloaks, and rested against the wall. The music was heavy and sad.&lt;br /&gt;  "This is the Hall of Doom, where people come to cry their tears and pains. Lets us move." - She pulled me into the next wing, where men in full plates fought dragons and mystical beings. The music here was strong and powerful, telling tales worthy of epic poems. She never told me what hall that was, because in front of me, a short man, with big glasses and a brown tweed suit appeared. He was shaking, afraid.&lt;br /&gt;  From one of the pockets he took a business card that said "MASS" on the front side and "I must see you" on the other side. The little men gulped twice and took a deep breath before saying "Come with me". Under my breath I uttered "if you want to live" but either he didn't hear or he didn't care. He just gave me a small box, the size of my palm, and pointed to the button : "press there".&lt;br /&gt;  I did, after a few moments of hesitation and suddenly I was no longer in the strange library, but in a little office, overseeing a crowded street. The small man was no longer there, but facing me was a metal face. If you can call that metal ellipse with a pair of cameras where the eyes would be, a face. When it spoke, his voice seemed to come from his torso, and like all of his body it was also metallic.&lt;br /&gt;  "I am MASS."&lt;br /&gt;  "I am" - I started to respond but he cut me off :&lt;br /&gt;  "I know who you are. I don't know why you are."&lt;br /&gt;  "Well, my mother and my father" - Again he interrupted me :&lt;br /&gt;  "Here. Why you are here. And what are you doing here."&lt;br /&gt;  "As to what, that one is easy : I want to see all of the System."&lt;br /&gt;  "That is impossible. The System never stops growing. There is no end to the System. You are without danger and so, without interest."&lt;br /&gt;  He then shut up and the little men came back.&lt;br /&gt;  "Sir" - the spectacled men said - "If you'd please follow me".&lt;br /&gt;  I did and he took me to a big browser, the kind the hyperlink company installed in big cities only. He just pointed me the way inside and smiled as I passed by him. I came out in my little cabin, lost in the woods. It was almost one year until I saw MASS again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-6820230881946019393?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/6820230881946019393/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-10-mass.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6820230881946019393'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6820230881946019393'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-10-mass.html' title='entry 10 - MASS'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-8472227735932204802</id><published>2010-07-22T10:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>entry 9 - Allison and Billy</title><content type='html'>The name Allison Gore might be known to everyone, in this day and time. She has temples and altars spread trough the entire system. They call her the Great Mother, the Lady of the Beginning, and many more names. But at the time this tale starts, she was mostly called nerd. And not in a good way. She often exhibited the Toilet Water Hairstyle, and knew all too well how to open a high school locker from the inside. She had two friends in high school : the S.p.i.r.i.t. (School Psychological Intelligence - Random Integer Table) and little Billy.&lt;br /&gt;Little Billy was the only person in school that suffered more at the hands of jocks than Ally. He was small. At age 10 he looked like he was 5. At age 19 he'd reached the size of a 12 year old, with big turtle framed glasses and rocking the light brown tweed suit style. To say he wasn't even smart is to say it nicely. He was still in the first year of high school and he might stay there for a couple more years, until all teachers felt pity for him and allowed him to pass. Ally used to tell him, when he was on the lowest, that God gives everyone a special skill, a little something that makes each and every human being important.&lt;br /&gt;On his brighter days Billy would say that his skill was that his head fit so nicely on a toilet seat, to which Ally would reply that the sewers were just a series of tubes. Billy never understood what she meant, and to be honest, neither did she.&lt;br /&gt;This was the International Year of Young Science, and to celebrate it, there would be a National Science Fair Contest, divided among three categories : middle school, high school and college. Even if Ally didn't want to participate, she would have to. All her teachers wanted her to, and even the school director went to her class room just to ask of her that she "made the school proud!". The projects should be made by a team of up to five students and all the other bright kids wanted to be on her team. Allison signed Billy name's with hers, without even listening to other suggestions of projects : with the help of Spirit she would find a good one. &lt;br /&gt;She sat on the old chair and pressed the small switch on the huge machine. Spirit was a 30 year old MULTIVAC, that Ally had programmed a small AI for. His room was empty as usual. She and Billy were the only ones to go down there, and Billy would never go alone : he was afraid of Spirit and afraid of the dark stairs and afraid of the empty room and afraid of the walls and afraid of the way the single light bulb made his shadow move on the floor. Even when they went down there together, she had to bring the flashlight and enter alone, leaving him at the door, while she turned on the big computer screen, because he was afraid of it.&lt;br /&gt; "GOOD MORNING MOTHER" - appeared on screen, in a strong orange, shinning against the black background.&lt;br /&gt; "good morning Spirit" - she wrote on the old keyboard, embedded in the desk.&lt;br /&gt; "WHAT SHOULD I DO FOR YOU, MOTHER?" - Appeared as a response to what she entered, followed by a list of options.&lt;br /&gt; "Billy, you can come in now."&lt;br /&gt; "I wish there was a way to get into the room without having to go down the dark stairs" - Billy said, still shaking.&lt;br /&gt; "Yes! That is it! A teleporter will win the stupid contest!" She said as she typed a question to Spirit. The answer came quickly, and she wrote it down in a notepad.&lt;br /&gt; "Spirit, will this allow for teleportation?"&lt;br /&gt; "YES, MOTHER"&lt;br /&gt; "Ok. Then resolve for 3, in turn of x please."&lt;br /&gt; "PROCESSING, MOTHER"&lt;br /&gt; "Hum. Is this accurate Spirit?"&lt;br /&gt; "YES, MOTHER"&lt;br /&gt; "Billy, do you know what this means?" - She knew he didn't and as always did not way for a answer - "It means we can do it! See here? We just need the power to make it go from this to that other line there, and the rest is just tin, and tin we can get, right Billy?"&lt;br /&gt; He did as he always did when she was thinking and stayed there saying yes from time to time and pretending to listen. Four hours later the left the room, and Allison had in her mind and in her notebook what she thought was the working theory behind immediate spacial dislocation.&lt;br /&gt; "So you see, Billy, we have all this points, each with it's own portal, linking places all over the world, and you enter portal A and exit portal B, the exact same second. This way we solve so many of humanity's problems, and on the way to it we get rich! Filthy rich! So rich people will worship us, Billy!"&lt;br /&gt; "I would like being rich"&lt;br /&gt; "And you will Billy, and you will!".&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Three weeks after Allison had two prototype Hyper Links. The name had been Billy's idea : "If a road is a link between two towns, your portals" - "Our." - corrected Allison and then let him continue - "Our portals will be a Hyper Link, being so fast.".&lt;br /&gt; She placed one in the garage and another in the back yard and they tested it first with a grape. Then a apple, then a pineapple and so on. When they were certain that it worked for inanimate objects, Billy's mouse, Mickey, was volunteered for the test. He came out without a sign of harm, and they decided to try a longer distance. Dismantling and redoing the Hyper Link on the computer room was a hard task that took another week. The contest was in another week and Allison was certain of victory. When all was set up, she left Billy at her garage and went to school. Once she was there, she called Billy and asked him to release Mickey into the Hyper Link and the mouse exited trough the portal.&lt;br /&gt;Allison screamed on the phone : "IT WORKS BILLY! It really works Billy! I'm going in now!" - Billy answered, probably against Allison's will for the first time since they knew each other - "No! I'll meet you there. I want to be the first human to ride the Hyper Link!" - Allison stopped just before entering and said - "OK Billy. It's only fair that you do. Come on, we must celebrate!"&lt;br /&gt; "Entering in three, two, one, " - Silence. Billy wasn't there, and the call was over,"DISCONNECTED BY RECIPIENT", blinking on the cell screen. She called home, and asked her mother to go check the garage. Billy wasn't there but his backpack was on the floor, on the same place he always left it when entering the garage, and from where he always picked it up before leaving. He was not at his own house, nor at school. He had just dissipated, without a trace.&lt;br /&gt; Allison spent the next day in front of Spirit, looking at the black screen and the orange letters spelling "PROCESSING. PLEASE WAIT, MOTHER". She had to be taken home by force, and so she wasn't there when the great MULTIVAC replied :&lt;br /&gt;   ANSWERING "what happened to Billy?" :&lt;br /&gt;THE SAME SOUL CANNOT EXIST TWICE IN THE SAME REALITY.&lt;br /&gt;THE PORTAL BENDS TIME AND SPACE.&lt;br /&gt;THE SOUL CANNOT REACH DESTINATION BEFORE LEAVING.&lt;br /&gt;THE SOUL MUST FIND A DIFFERENT REALITY TO LEAVE THE PORTAL.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-8472227735932204802?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/8472227735932204802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-9-allison-and-billy.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8472227735932204802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8472227735932204802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-9-allison-and-billy.html' title='entry 9 - Allison and Billy'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-2984869393947553584</id><published>2010-07-22T03:44:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-22T03:55:29.468-07:00</updated><title type='text'>entry 9beta</title><content type='html'>Once, Arthur told me that he'd met Allison Gore and that she had written this on a paper napkin :&lt;br /&gt;&lt;code&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Public Hiperlink(Hiperlink oldH, VariableArray varAr){&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;    this = oldH;&lt;br /&gt;    set(this.Inventor,varAr[0]);&lt;br /&gt;    set(this.age, varAr[1]);&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;    for( int i = 0 ; i lessThan varAr[1] ; i++ , this.age++ ){&lt;br /&gt;       if( i == ( this.age - this.Inventor.age ) ){&lt;br /&gt;          this.Inventor.createObject();&lt;br /&gt;       }&lt;br /&gt;       this.CalendarYear[i] = this.performYear(i);&lt;br /&gt;    }&lt;br /&gt;    return this;&lt;br /&gt;}&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;public CalendarYear performYear(int year){&lt;br /&gt;    if ( year == this.yearOfInvention ){&lt;br /&gt;        new Hiperlink Hh(this, randomizeVars());&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/code&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He then put the napkin back into his wallet and said :&lt;br /&gt;"You see, this is the beginning of the theory behind my Quantum Entanglement and also her HiperLink Company. She had no more space here, so I never found out the rest..."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-2984869393947553584?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/2984869393947553584/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-9beta.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/2984869393947553584'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/2984869393947553584'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-9beta.html' title='entry 9beta'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-5485335144150117555</id><published>2010-07-20T07:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 8 - The Little Prince</title><content type='html'>He will be known as the Barbarian King,and later the Everlasting Emperor, but at the time I first met him he was a prince of a small kingdom, stranded in the beginning of the first millennium, and known only as Aak'r, fourth and last in the line of succession to the throne, the Little Prince.&lt;br /&gt;He was a big man, standing 7 feet tall, long black hair waving in the wind, strong muscles and dark powerful eyes. In his hand he holds a big sword, too big for a normal men to wield with both hands. He was  on top of a hill, looking down on a group of maybe 100 men, all armed with swords or axes and dressed in animal skins. Commanding those men was his brother, Prince Heir, a man half his size, dressed in heavy looking plates and with hate on his eyes as he screamed : "Ebony is my wife! She will be until the day I die, little brother!"&lt;br /&gt;"Then you shall die today!"&lt;br /&gt;Aak'r raised his sword, and from behind him came not more than 20 men, all armed with big swords, bodies painted in the blood of wild beasts, eyes blind with the fury of war. The Little Prince ran down the hill, and the Heir hid behind his troops. The first line was smashed under Aak'r's bigger men, and the prince him self sliced one of his brother's chieftains in half, laughing while the blood splattered on his naked torso, the joy of battle overcoming fear and reason. We swung the big sword, cutting a arm and bashing a skull. "I COMING FOR YOU BIG BROTHER!" he screamed, kicking another man and running his sword through his hearth.&lt;br /&gt;Vastly outnumbered, but stronger, fighting from above and enthralled by their leader's words of rage, Aak'r's men had the battle won swiftly and bloodily, more than half of the Prince Heir's troops dead, and from those who survived, some had ran away, some had laid their weapons on the floor. The two brothers faced, one in armor and fear, sword raised trying to protect his face form his brother, that was towering above him.&lt;br /&gt;The Little Prince dropped his sword and dismissed the Heir's with a swift blow from his left hand. With the other hand he grabbed his brother by the neck, lifting his feet from the ground.&lt;br /&gt;"Ebony wishes to be with ME!"&lt;br /&gt;The sound of broken bones, as Aak'r crushed the neck echoed trough the stale, blood filled air. Among the defeated men cries of horror joined the sound of the Little Prince cutting open his brother's dead body and ripping the heart out. He sliced through the heart with his teeth and with blood running down his face he laughed, loud. Around him his men join in the laughter as they got rid of the defeated army.&lt;br /&gt;Later this would be known as the beginning of a rise to power that would sweep the Secret System from link to link and bring war to all the towns in the world, but at the time it was no more than a brother taking back his toy from another...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-5485335144150117555?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/5485335144150117555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/he-will-be-known-as-barbarian-kingand.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/5485335144150117555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/5485335144150117555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/he-will-be-known-as-barbarian-kingand.html' title='Entry 8 - The Little Prince'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-3727634798403527086</id><published>2010-07-19T05:55:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>Entry 7 - Dark city</title><content type='html'>It was a cold night, and the wind kept trying to steal my hat. I had one hand over it, pressing hard, as I walked up the street. This was my first time in the city in many years, but noting seemed to change. The little coffee at the corner was still there, empty but for the police inspector and the waitress, on their eternal game of attraction. Her face had couple new wrinkles, his hair a few more whites, but they were there just like they were when I first met Her.&lt;br /&gt; It was a night just like this one. I had just arrived and I was sitting on the corner table, a bottle of vintage Brandy next to me, a glass in my hand. I was smoking a cigarette, and unsure of what to do next when she entered. She wore a short dress, firehouse red like her lips. The long blond hair fell on her back, slightly curly at the tips. My eyes caught hers, pale blue eyes like a clean sky, and her lips twisted with half a smile as she walked towards me. &lt;br /&gt; She sat, silent, took one of my cigarettes form the pack on the table and waited for me to light it. I fumbled taking the metal lighter from my pocket and my hand shook while she inhaled, making the tip turn as red as her dress. She smoke half of it and stretched for the ashtray. What do you do with a cigarette after you've finished it? Do you put it out? Kill it? Mutilate it? What she did was love with it. And then she threw it away into the ashtray, not ever to see it again. At that moment I knew I'd be in love with her for the rest of my life.&lt;br /&gt; She grabbed my glass, drank it, and walked to the door. From the door she looked at me and said, in a voice angels could only dream to have "I'll see you again next week" and left me there, alone with the bottle and my cigarettes once again. Hours or days or maybe years later, the waitress asked me to leave. I walked the streets until I found a motel. I got myself a room, paid for a full week and spent it looking at the ceiling. &lt;br /&gt; That week went by slow. I found things to do by day, working for food and money for a bottle at the coffee by night. I'd be there everyday from 9pm until the waitress signaled me it was time to go. The police inspector was always there too, having his scotch. He'd sip it slowly and make it last all night. &lt;br /&gt; One nigh, a full week and two days after the day I first saw her, the inspector wasn't there when I arrived. The waitress was less friendly, and almost broke the bottle after serving my first glass of the night. I paid and was left alone, waiting.&lt;br /&gt; She came that night, wearing a black party dress, lips of a deep blood red, the color of the jewel in her black pearl necklace. Once again she came to my table, took one of the cigarettes and smoke it. She then smiled and said : "Let's go dance".&lt;br /&gt; She moved like a cat, and we danced for hours, in the little ballroom down the street until it closed, and we stepped outside into the rain, still dancing. We watched the sun rising on the sea shore, my coat on her shoulders, my arm around her waist, her arm on my shoulder, her mouth on my mouth.&lt;br /&gt; That's my last recollection of the night. Next day the sun shines down on my eyes, head aching with pain, and I am on my motel room alone. On the night stand, I see a paper shred with a lipstick kiss on it, that I carry on my wallet to this day.&lt;br /&gt; I went to the coffee again that night. The Police inspector was back, telling the waitress of a case he had to attend the night before. The owner of a jewelery shop called the police after waking up on the floor. He had seen a stunning blond woman wearing black walk in. She asked for the Heart Of The Night, a necklace with four tiers of extremely rare natural Black Pearls, and two gold hands holding a ruby the size and shape of a newborn baby's heart. The shop owner gave it to her and all went black. When he came back to his senses, both the lady and the Heart Of The Night were gone.&lt;br /&gt; I knew who had the necklace, she told me it was a family heirloom, a memory of her mother, "the last one I have" she said, "I've had since she died". &lt;br /&gt; She never showed up again, and the Police Inspector never found out what happened to the necklace. A few days after I left that town, swearing never to return.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Last week I saw a old lady, a duchess of somewhere, wearing a necklace with four tiers of black pearls, and a pair of golden hands holding a heart of ruby, and I came back, looking for Her.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-3727634798403527086?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/3727634798403527086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-7-dark-city.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3727634798403527086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/3727634798403527086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-7-dark-city.html' title='Entry 7 - Dark city'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-9137234807177368112</id><published>2010-07-15T06:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:21:59.487-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>entry 6 - Mad Scientist</title><content type='html'>He was insane. Crazy, mad, a lunatic. There wasn't a single drop of sanity in him. He said his name was Dr. Emeritus Artur F. Onzi. But he also said he was The Great Merlin of Britain, King Tut and "one of life's little working ants". &lt;br /&gt; I met him at a coffee shop, on the coffee shop district of the city of South Iforgot. Not that I forgot, that was really the name of the town : South Iforgot, 40 miles east of North Iforgot. No, I'm not making this up. Some links are just like this, totally insane. That's why he wasn't really out of place there, being also utterly mad. &lt;br /&gt; It was a coffee shop managed by hipster artists, frequented by a strange mix of poets, painters, killers and mad scientists. Arthur, as I've decided to call him hence forth, being the most human sounding name he gave me, was a member of the last group. He was one white lab coat short of a movie mad scientist anyway. &lt;br /&gt; I entered the coffee shop, looking for a coffee, ended up having a cup of tea, after the aspiring actress that took my order, told me that they were a tea house called "The Coffee Shop" for irony, since they didn't serve coffee. On my left was a killer, I'm sure. Not so much because he wore a whore's whole skull in his shoulder, more because he kept pointing at it and telling me, or any other person that happened to be in the vicinities what was that skull he had.&lt;br /&gt; On my right was a man in dark shirt, dark pants and dark hat, and he looked happy, so happy indeed that I had to ask what was it that he was celebrating. I somewhat regretted asking that when he picked up his glass of poison (or vodka as he called it), came next to me, hand in my shoulder, and started speaking, rolling his words and going back and forth, in the good drunken tradition. What he said translated into "Maaaaaan, I'm happy, oh so happy, happy happy happy! Want to know why I'm happy? I'm happy because my wife cheated on me! Oh yes she did, God bless her! She cheated on me, on my bed, with my best friend! She did! Oh joy!"&lt;br /&gt; I must have looked surprised because he looked at me, and did his best impression of someone sober when he said "I am a poet.". He then finished his drink and turned his back on me.&lt;br /&gt; It was about that time that Arthur entered, looked around the room, and came straight to me : "You. You are not from here. You are like me, from another place!"&lt;br /&gt; I was too surprised to reply, and even if I weren't he gave me no time to. He sit on my table, spilling my tea, and resume talking : "You see, I found the secret of quantum entanglement! I found it, and I found it alone! They say it's theirs, that I'm just one in a team, that I, The Great Lord Of Dimensions and Space and Time am but a part of the team! I! I the magnificent Mule of dimensions! I! Shame on them and good riddance to all of them I say! AHAHHAHAH!  Let them catch me now, let the 'team'" - you could hear the quotes in team - "rebuild the machine now! Let them do it after I broke it! AH! You see, I am what made the world exist, for I am God! I've traveled everywhere and if somewhere I wanted to go wasn't there yet, I created it! Oh the fools! The damn fools! They think they know how! AH!"&lt;br /&gt; "Pleased to meet you too" - was my answer.&lt;br /&gt; "We must go. IT is almost here." - was his verbal answer. His physical one was to drag me out of the table, out of the coffee shop. Once there he started talking again: "How did you get here? Never mind that." - there was no pause between sentences  - "You'll go with me. I have it hidden, hidden in plain sight, oh such a genius I am! Emeritus Doctor, they made me for my brilliance! Come come now! Fast! Just right there at the corner! I can smell IT!" - Whatever IT was, Arthur never explained, and he was afraid of it. I believe it was IT that made him this crazy.&lt;br /&gt; "Quick, into the box! Trust me, I'm not mad!" - He almost lost me there, for if he was one thing it was crazy. He jumped into a cardboard box - "the first one was the size of my lab, the next one will fit in my wallet! AH! They said it was impossible you know? Come on, climb! Let's show them!" - inside the box there was a small switch, and as soon as I entered, pulled by the arm he had not let go off, he switched it on. It was a browser, a machine to travel between links. It appeared to have no steering, no way to indicate destiny, just a on-off switch.&lt;br /&gt; The box landed in a really small island, complete with palm tree and a empty bottle. The rest of that day I spent there listening to Arthur. He had a theory that he tried to explain me, about Quantum Entanglement and inter-dimensional time travel and how that would create a new universe every time you jumped. It somehow evolved peach jam, Japanese heavy metal and a gypsy priest. &lt;br /&gt; He talked a lot, and the things he said were either totally insane or just half-insane. One of his monologues I remember quite well, for I've been craving a roasted pork leg ever since I started following this links.&lt;br /&gt; "Once " - he started - "I went to ancient Egypt. At the time it was but a giant desert, ruled by one semi-divine king. No not me... Kings had a strange tendency to wake up dead. Anyway, I'd been traveling for years, and I had a craving for some nice oven roasted pork. I had the spices, and I could easily find a pig, yet I had no oven. That's why I designed the pyramids, you know? To cook my pork leg. It took me eleven years to build and two entire days, but I had a nice tasty roasted pork leg by the end of it. The best one I ever had!"&lt;br /&gt;  The next day Arthur was gone when I woke up. All he left behind was a small note : "What I miss more is my cat. That sweet, evil cat."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-9137234807177368112?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/9137234807177368112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-6-mad-scientist.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/9137234807177368112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/9137234807177368112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-6-mad-scientist.html' title='entry 6 - Mad Scientist'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-8250010784443392653</id><published>2010-07-13T10:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-13T10:19:59.406-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Entry 5 - Savannah</title><content type='html'>His name was Richard Excelsior Almighty Victorious Young, he was a Nerd and he was angry with his parental units. The name was just one of the reasons why he was angry. The other reason was, even if less constant, at the time more enraging. He was to stay home and miss the Halloween dance at high school. He was 16 years old, top student of the class, didn't smoke, drink or do drugs, yet he had to stay home, because "Halloween is the feast of the devil" and "We praise the Lord in this house" and "You will be grounded out of your heathen ways". Rick would show them. The parental units would be seeing television, the Reverend's channel. Now he was almost happy that they had asked him to set up a television server linked to all the computers... With a text-to-voice software he recorded a ten minute sermon on the dangers of withholding your kids at home when they wish to go out and experiment the dark ways of the pagan folk. Rick was specially proud of the "The only way to see the light is to walk on darkness before" bit. He was watching the show on his computer screen and waiting for the Reverend to start the regular 8h30pm 10 minutes speech and stream his own soundtrack to it. He was so proud of his work that he listened to it instead of listening to the news on the radio, like he used to do. Had he heard the news, he wouldn't have been so happy when five minutes after the speech ended the parental units entered his room and said they had seen the error in locking him and forbidding him to go. &lt;br /&gt; He dressed his homemade Rambo suit really quick and left for the dance. He should be there in 10 minutes, by bike. It took him 7, and he had to slow down for the girl scouts and keep his AK-47 Super Soaker from hitting his knees. If he wasn't in such a hurry he might have noticed the young man, dressed as a space pirate, inside the circle of girls, and that he was fighting for his life, with a spiked flail in hand. The last Rick could have seen of him was the flail hitting a piggy tailed girl scout on the arm.&lt;br /&gt; The high school was deserted, as expected, and Rick followed the music into the gym. he stopped at the door, adjusted the red head band, grabbed the AK-47 'movie style' and kicked the door open.&lt;br /&gt; When the door opened he noticed that the "music" was nothing more than static. The gym was empty. There were half filled cups on the tables and spilled cups on the floor. Rick glanced at his watch, making sure he wasn't later than he thought. The dace should have started 40 minutes early and it should still be going one for the next two hours, but nobody was on sight. He walked around the gym, and screamed like a little girl when he saw the arm coming from under the table. &lt;br /&gt; When Rick got his breath back he slowly ducked and looked under the table, to see a boys body attached to the arm, and comically dressed in a pink cowboy costume. Rick screamed again, a little less little-girlish this time, and stepped back until he hit the wall. It took him a few seconds to recover, eyes closed and breathing deep. When he opened his eyes, he went to the DJ set table and turned the sound off, only start hearing cries of affliction on the distance. Holding his fake AK-47 next to his body he slowly walked out into the school yard, trying to understand where the sounds were coming from. When he thought he knew where they were, we went back into the gym, and then ran to his bike. Once there he tried calling the cops, but his phone got no signal, as it always was , night time in Savannah.&lt;br /&gt; He followed the road into the sound, stopping at the police station just to find it empty, and kept going. The woods were only a few more meters ahead, and Rick heard the cries closer, more desperate.&lt;br /&gt; The last thing he saw was a little girl in a girl scout uniform, with pig tails and a scar in her arm. She was smiling when she said "good night Richard".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-8250010784443392653?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/8250010784443392653/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-5-savannah.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8250010784443392653'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8250010784443392653'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-5-savannah.html' title='Entry 5 - Savannah'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-7621471199528008943</id><published>2010-07-12T10:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-12T10:05:08.469-07:00</updated><title type='text'>entry 4 - time traveling observation deck</title><content type='html'>The high tower loomed over the wasteland this time. He, a green being with long hair and a weird name, looked over the great observation window and sighed. "It's too soon to find people in here" - he thought - "I'll go and get some sleep". He left a #goodMorning on the wall and logged off into sleep.&lt;br /&gt; When he woke up, a couple of hours after, the tower was in the middle of a ocean, waves rolling against the shinny metal structure. The wall clock showed "00h54 - 15 May, 4125", this time. His clock, however, showed 10h30 in the morning, 12 Feb. 2034, the real time, outside the tower. &lt;br /&gt; It was a no work day for him so he browsed the 'library' for new articles. The daily corridor was still empty, but the yesterday one had a couple new posts. The science ones he didn't get much into, so he went past them, reading just the headlines. There was one for that new movie, Dancing With Alien Wolves, a re-imagination of the James Cameron classic. As far as he could tell they were messing with the story, creating new characters and 'updating the script to moder times', according to the article. Instead of a evil corporation, there would be a evil cult, trying to destroy the mines of the peaceful business people of Pandora, and overthrowing the Pandorian World Corp, a network of small companies. Jake would still be a paralytic soldier, at least that they would keep... &lt;br /&gt; He got to the replies - "A bit of trolling in the morning to make me less pissed at life" - and laughed. When ever they did remakes/re-imaginations/reboots of classic movies, there was sure to be fan fighting in the comments, and this particular article didn't disappoint. &lt;br /&gt; When he finished reading it, he went back to the room, the year was 250.000 BCE and primitive men were attacking it with sticks and stones.A post-human woman, with a extension-arm, was at the window, sang the old child limerick : "sticks and stone may break my bones...". Next to her a British Gentleman wrote something about the apparent emptiness of the main room at the time. &lt;br /&gt; He got next to them in time to see a Wookie arriving with a big billboard poster of a old movie. The Wookie growled something about a birthday, and sat in a chair, next to the poster. "This place is all dirty" - he said to the British man. "We should get a maid. A french maid to clean this up, don't you recon old chap?" - Said the British. &lt;br /&gt; He agreed and the talk diverted to the short uniforms said maid would use. The woman with the extension-arm looked at them with murder in the eyes and left for work. Soon in her place was a salesmen, with knifes and swords and cigars, and this time only, a robotic maid. When the salesman saw he wouldn't be selling anything he left and went to the meeting room.&lt;br /&gt; People started to enter the main room now, glancing out the window, and either talking with some one or just standing there. A man-sized building complex built a kids playground at some time and the British man went to discuss it with him.&lt;br /&gt;  He was alone again. In the meeting room people were talking, topics jumping from one to the other fast. The extensible lady was there, and so was the salesman, and some others. He sat next to the door and glanced at the main room from time to time, but it was still soon in the day. A man with a hammer in hand came, a ruthless look in his face, and five more classic actors were hanged next to the one the Wookie, now long gone, had posted. The British gentleman lost his classy pose and drooled over one of actors, a pretty girl, until a Zombie General came and started gossiping about her. The Wookie joined them and they started a friendly argument.&lt;br /&gt;  Back in the meeting room, the green being discussed his future empire and the positions he would give them if they wished. From the back of his eye he saw the British gentleman with a flame thrower, burning someone that had committed the crime of disagreeing.&lt;br /&gt;  "Time for me to go" - he said, fearing the flamethrower. He got up and logged off again, noticing the flying cars outside, and the city surrounding them. On the big clock the year was now 2754.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-7621471199528008943?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/7621471199528008943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-4-time-traveling-observation-deck.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7621471199528008943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7621471199528008943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-4-time-traveling-observation-deck.html' title='entry 4 - time traveling observation deck'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-6853611723635666061</id><published>2010-07-09T08:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T09:22:00.441-07:00</updated><title type='text'>entry 3 -  the mouse that wishes to read more</title><content type='html'>I've been wandering trough hyperlinks for the past years. If you wonder why I started writing this only now, the reason is easy to explain : I had no notepad. I kid you not. The other day I met a mouse, among the dunes. I had just been linked from a 'vampire' filled town, and I was ranting out loud. A little mouse passed by me and started replying to my angered self. The vampire, werewolf and disturbed teen filled town had destroyed my hopes on mankind, made me furious, angered, irritated. She talked back to me, and we laughed at the ridicule. Then she asked who I was.&lt;br /&gt;"You are not from here, your eyes are not blue within blue"&lt;br /&gt;"I came from another place. From outside the System."&lt;br /&gt;"And what are you doing here, how did you come to here?"&lt;br /&gt; I did not wish to tell her, that meant thinking about it and I had long promised myself I would not think about that. So I answered only half question.&lt;br /&gt; "I'm traveling the System, getting to know about each and every link. I listen to their stories and keep them in my head. If one day I return I'll write them down and the other world, the real world " - she interrupted me to say - "your real world you mean. This is MY real world. And in any link you will find a different world, but all of them real."&lt;br /&gt;"Ok, MY real world,  I will know and show them that there is more under the skin of my reality than what we can guess".&lt;br /&gt; "Why do you wait to return before writing? Would it not be better to write now? Before you forget?"&lt;br /&gt; "I have nowhere to write... I forgot my notebook..."&lt;br /&gt; "Follow me then" - She ran in front of me, and I followed into a underground cave. As we entered, a giant worm (and I do mean giant!) exited the sand behind us and opened it's great mouth, screaming.&lt;br /&gt; "We are safe inside, worry not."&lt;br /&gt; She showed me where I could grab a notebook and a pen, and then she said, before disappearing : "I hope you return here to show me your stories! I want to read about the other links."&lt;br /&gt; I had no time to answer, and I was left alone in a rock cave under the sea of sand, where I slept the night, afraid to go out. In the morning, there was no sign of the giant worm, nor of the little brown mouse, so I came back to the HyperLink, and I will now enter again...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-6853611723635666061?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/6853611723635666061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-3-mouse-that-wishes-to-read-more.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6853611723635666061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/6853611723635666061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-3-mouse-that-wishes-to-read-more.html' title='entry 3 -  the mouse that wishes to read more'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-5034562421553809044</id><published>2010-07-09T07:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T08:06:25.358-07:00</updated><title type='text'>entry 2 - the wedding</title><content type='html'>Baleoth smiled with his eyes and grabbed her leftmost tentacle : "My dearest.. I love you. Your perfectly triangular, red eyes... red of passion! Your soft, long green fur, the color of blood... Your delicate touch, the way you hug me with all six tentacles, as if nothing else in the world is worth having... Your beak, the way you run it trough my skin.. I love you dearest, and I will yell at the Gods if they take you away from me!"&lt;br /&gt; "Oh, Baleoth... And I love you too... I love your perfect body and your perfect mind, I love even your name... Baleoth... I love your name in my taste-glands, acid and cold... I want to lay your eggs, and sit on them for months... I long for the short beaks of our sons to break the eggshell and to see those small eyes looking at us.. Oh Baleoth I love you so"&lt;br /&gt; The priest beak open and closed in a fast smile, a sign of joy and emotion. He rose all four of his free tentacles and read from the Book of Life : &lt;br /&gt; "The Gods made the Neoumans to be above themselves. The Gods gave us Life and Love, and from Love we make more Life."&lt;br /&gt; He made a short pause, smiled once more and then continued :&lt;br /&gt; "In Love and for Life I pronounce you both as a Nest. May you cherish and flourish in it".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-5034562421553809044?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/5034562421553809044/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-2-wedding.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/5034562421553809044'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/5034562421553809044'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/entry-2-wedding.html' title='entry 2 - the wedding'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-8194780002138091915</id><published>2010-07-09T03:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-19T15:22:09.191-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Secret System'/><title type='text'>entry 0 - what is the Secret System?</title><content type='html'>My name is... Unimportant. I had a name ,once. And a family, and a house and all that thing that turns you into a person. Now all I have is this notepad and the adventures I live. The Secret System.. What is the secret system? Well, first of all, if you never heard of it, that's normal, it's secret. It exists at the same time and place that the rest of mankind. Yes you read it right, if you even exist. I write this for you, that elusive and strange being I feel looking over my shoulder. I can hear you breathing next to my ear when I'm running along in silence. And that one time, with the DreamFolk, I know I heard you scream! &lt;br /&gt; But I digress. The Secret System exists in a fixed time slot, that runs along with our time slot, Mankind's time slot: I've been to the end of that time slot. I wish it was farther away... But there's no use in complaining. Not all will be lost at the end, I've been there, I've seen the end. Just because we all die, evolution won't stop, and there is something of us that survives... I digress again. Living in the System does this to you. You seem to lose focus... &lt;br /&gt; I try once again : the Secret System is much like the internet, and not that much unlike our medieval world. It has not one, but several physical/temporal locations, connected trough travel portals, the 'HyperLinks'. Each such location is a reign, country, nation, what you call it. Some are as old has civilization, some are older, some are but a few days old. Some are small, I remember the room-city where the.. No, I will not tell of what happens there. I got out as soon as I could, should have had sooner. Some are big, huge, gigantic, with no end to see. You were there with me, you remember the Sea of Infinity and the Mountains of Forever and the Forest of Never-ending and the Immeasurable Desert. Some exist on the early Egyptian Civilization, some near the end of the World Coalition. For some reason, the greatest number of them co-exist with the 'regular' 21st century.&lt;br /&gt; I've begun recently collecting and compiling memories of the inhabitants of the Secret System, and I shall write them down in this little, old, bartered notebook.&lt;br /&gt; Now I go to sleep, in this 'my' little cabin in the woods. This the first I saw of the Secret Systems, and my first adventure here. But that is another story, for another entry...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-8194780002138091915?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/8194780002138091915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-name-is.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8194780002138091915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/8194780002138091915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/my-name-is.html' title='entry 0 - what is the Secret System?'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-7415715175211035007</id><published>2010-07-08T10:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-09T06:29:49.278-07:00</updated><title type='text'>entry 1 - the town of kotaniku</title><content type='html'>The happy town of Kotaniku wasn't ready for the tragedy that ensued in  that day, and neither was Daniel. For years he had been a working,  trustful and until recently, respected citizen. He even had the city's'  Medal of The Star, given to those that had been deemed worthy of  speaking up in the public forums, years ago. His medal had been taken  back recently, because of a commentary on the socioeconomic state of  Kotaniku he gave at the SpeakUpTv citizen forum, but he felt that he could  regain it, by proving his worth, soon.&lt;br /&gt; That day, the day of the Great Kotaniku Massacre, when Daniel got up,  dressed his anonymity mask and entered the streets on the way to his  job, he was smiling and singing silly songs. Today was the day he'd get  his Medal of the Star back. People waved at him and smiled back, even  after the demedaling we was still likes and Daniel enjoyed it.&lt;br /&gt; Once he got to work and plugged himself, started checking the normal  amount of replies,and re-replies while he tried no make the coffee  machine obey him. Someday he would have to complain about it. No coffee  means no productivity. And that was not good, not good at all. The good  mood was starting to turn into a bad mood. His brain-computer synapse  sent a sign to his primary somatosensory cortex, a gentle caress inside  his skull. He forced himself to twitch the left little finger (Lat.  digitus mínimus mánus, Pt. mindinho, Fr. auriculaire, Wiktionary  immediately translated and sumpreimpressed the information on his inner  eye, as he had configured it to do), and a new message showed.&lt;br /&gt; "Greetings fellow Kotanikuans.&lt;br /&gt;  Due to the recent social scandals, the Supreme Comity of Overlords  regrets to inform that the bill #26/083 will be in effect starting this  moment.&lt;br /&gt;  The Supreme Comity of Overlords hopes that the free people of Kotaniku  acknowledge this news with the respect and education that so well  characterizes them.&lt;br /&gt;  The Counselor for the Preservation of Citizenship of the Supreme  Comity of Overlords, Mikel M.Vendor"&lt;br /&gt; Daniel focused his thought on the bill's number and read the long text,  trying to grasp his mind around the concepts. After deconstructing the  political and techno-babble he got to the gist of it, and he lost hope  in humanity.&lt;br /&gt; According to the new laws, if a member of the Comity decided a citizen  was unworthy of living in Kotaniku due to things said, he would 'exile'  the citizen. There was no chance for defense, no warning, no trial. It  was a Kotanikuan tradition that when a citizen spoke in manners deemed  uncivilized, his words would be scrambled and a public warning would be  sent. Only after that, if the citizen continued with the uncivilized  behavior, would he be 'exiled'...&lt;br /&gt; Daniel logged off, and for the first time in years he spent a work day  away from the community. When his coworkers started to leave for home he  wondered why had he not heard the signal, until he remembered his  communication device was not turned on. He went out, into the streets  once more, and turned it on. "27 new messages, it has been a calm day"  he thought. On the top, the WORKDAY-EOF flag was shining, and so were  the NEW-MSG and the PSA-WARNING ones.&lt;br /&gt; He blinked both eyes for half a second to uncheck the WORDAY-EOF, and  skimmed over the new messages. The PSA would be in 40 minutes, at the  town square, so Daniel decided to go there and learn more about bill  #26/083.&lt;br /&gt; He exited the autopedescalator, and decided to walk there. He found the  correct belt moved next to it until he reached the Supreme Comity of  Overlords' Podium, with the old flag shining, with the big green K on  the left, red side, the white slash and the long green field.&lt;br /&gt; 10 minutes later, the square was full with people and more kept  arriving, as a member of the Comity climbed to the podium. The crowd,  that had been speaking among themselves, checking their messages and  sending other messages was silent as soon as Councilman Obadiah Groody  lifted his hand.&lt;br /&gt; "Fellow Kotanikuans, we gather here today to that wish former  Councilman Paul Veit gets better soon. Paul, Kotaniku's hearts are with  you!"&lt;br /&gt; Daniel felt enraged. So enrage he neglected the new rules and screamed,  load and clear "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" - Every voice in the square  went silent. Daniel continued "I came here to learn about the new rules,  not to find out some old man has the FUCKING FLU!".&lt;br /&gt; From next to the podium, another councilman dressed with the anonymity  suit and mask, came next to him and said, so that everyone in the square  could hear : "Daniel, you were once a respected citizen. You've been  here almost since the founding of this city. Everyone here knows you.  And because of that you think you can voice your opinions like that? You  want to know about the new rules? This are the new rules : I condemn  you to exile. Goodbye."&lt;br /&gt; The unknown councilman pressed something in his gauntlet and Daniel's  body disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; From this point on, records are confusing. What really happened in that  square was never officially retold, and Daniel, what was left of him, a  mind inside a computer, not much more than a memory of a body, never  understood more than what the newsletters said the next day :&lt;br /&gt; "Yesterday the town of Kotaniku suffered a great tragedy. Enemy agents,  living among us, tried to start a rebellion. Luckily the members of the  Supreme Council of Overlords were fast to exile all those who oppose  our peaceful way of live."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-7415715175211035007?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/7415715175211035007/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/kotaniku.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7415715175211035007'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/7415715175211035007'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/kotaniku.html' title='entry 1 - the town of kotaniku'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3543412692589156711.post-4388381613940115757</id><published>2010-07-08T02:54:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2012-01-17T15:05:36.482-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Short Entries'/><title type='text'>a drabble to begin</title><content type='html'>-Child, don't you dare look at me like that!&lt;br /&gt;-Father, you should know by now that we don't stop.&lt;br /&gt;-Child, I warn you. Daughter or no daughter, I'll have your blood.&lt;br /&gt;-Come on and try.&lt;br /&gt;The body was found later that week, blood everywhere. He was a&lt;br /&gt;man in his early 30s. The location of the wounds would suggest he&lt;br /&gt;was killed by a small person with a knife.&lt;br /&gt;The apparent size of such person is consistent with the 4 year&lt;br /&gt;old missing daughter.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3543412692589156711-4388381613940115757?l=mysteriousass.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/feeds/4388381613940115757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/drabble-to-begin.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4388381613940115757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3543412692589156711/posts/default/4388381613940115757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://mysteriousass.blogspot.com/2010/07/drabble-to-begin.html' title='a drabble to begin'/><author><name>John Gama</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/06656188500317352559</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='27' height='32' src='http://dsr.no.sapo.pt/vodcka.JPG'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry></feed>
