Challenge #00472 - A097: The Element Bullshittium

Any sufficiently advanced [magic/science/SCIENCE!] is indistinguishable from bullshit. – RecklessPrudence

It glowed, but it wasn’t radioactive. It could be made at home with an array of equipment that absolutely, positively, had to include a Theremin and a Jacob’s ladder. And for the creator to wear a colander on their head.

It had been scientifically proven to be so.

A single mote could power any old car currently capable of running. Plug some into a power point and it could run an entire neighbourhood.

And it could make computers work magic that they were previously incapable of. It could make them, for example, enlarge four pixels into a high-definition poster of crystal clarity.

And it got its name from it’s primary processing ingredient.

Cow dung.

The best stuff, of course, came from the dung of a male cow. Nobody knew why.

Which was why the inventor, a guy named Kev down the road, called it Bullshittium.

It was sufficiently advanced magic. And unfathomable science. And no matter what smarter minds had to say about it, it worked.

Kev down the road, being smarter than many other Kev’s his age, had the sense to fortify both himself and his house with the stuff before he made its existence public knowledge. He knew what the assembled global governments would do to him if he didn’t.

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Challenge #00457 - A082: San Check

If you meet Yog-Sothoth, you’ve gone too far on the axis of comprehension; back up slowly and call for reality assistance. – RecklessPrudence

Ow. It had happened again. OW! It wasn’t getting any better with experience.

Katie looked up from her pained huddle, halfway expecting somebody yelling at her to ‘avaunt’ and calling her names. One more time. One more time, she swore, and she would start calling herself a foul shayde from out the blackest pit.

“That wouldn’t be a bad idea,” said the glowing entity before her. He stood like a pompous martinet, like a man who knew that there was absolutely nothing she could do to stop him doing whatever he wanted to do to her. And liked it that way. “It’s not as if you’re really… yourself, any more.”

And all this time, she thought she’d never meet anyone slimier than Hackmeyer. Katie levered herself into a sitting position and failed to make the world stop spinning. “Why’re you talkin’ English?”

“What?” he scoffed, “No, 'where am I’? No 'who are you’? I’m disappointed.”

“Na, I already learned there’s nae point in askin’. The grass wasn’t real. She could feel that it wasn’t real. She could also feel its reality. Having two sets of senses at once was a real pain in the arse, sometimes.

Through the True Lights, she could see a virtual leash around her neck. The other end wrapped negligently around this too-perfect man’s wrist. The glow meant something else, too. So did the flashes and flickers of something… sinister.

Something… Lovecraftian.

The truth behind this being was horrifying. And he was strong enough to block that from her awarenesses.

"Well, go on, then,” she challenged. “Introduce yerself.” She pretended a weakness that was, in reality, fading rapidly. Let her fear show through and hid her growing fury.

“I control your fate,” he said, enjoying her cowering. “I’m the one who plucked you from the edge of death to send you on your… missions… across the multiverse. I’m the one who made you what you are.”

“We apologise for the inconvenience?” she quoted.

And eye-roll that was almost camp. “And some… other associates. Honestly, their mercy is pulling me down.” A tisk and a tut. “But enough about them. You can call me God.”

Which started a hate-hate relationship that would last ten, too-long years. “Not bluidly likely,” she growled.

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Challenge #00453 - A078: Humanity in a Nutshell

Has there ever been an instrument more representative of humanity than the Zeusaphone? (I highly recommend checking out their Youtube page) – RecklessPrudence

“So… the Terran Exhibition.”

“Yeah, it’s docking next week. Should help defuse Silly Season for another month.”

‘Are you going?“

"Only with adequate shielding. I heard they have the Lightning Meisters playing with this circuit.”

“Lightning… I don’t think I’ve heard of them.”

“They play a Tesla coil.”

“Uh. Are we thinking about the same thing? Big generator of artificial lighting? Not a musical instrument at all, but rather an instrument of terror, testing and death?”

“Yup. They got music out of it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I have video proof.”

Together, they watched a figure in all-encompassing chain mail dance to the tune that the lightning made. Backed by a band in a cage.

“That’s horrifying.”

“That’s humans.”

“Are you going?”

“Hell yeah!”

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Challenge #00448 - A073: Personal Assessment

The Lister is the SI unit of discipline, as defined by the amount of effort needed to make Third Technician David Lister do his duties, clean his quarters and generally not be such a shame to the Space Corps. A single Lister of discipline is therefore often more than is needed for the entire crew of a (Star Wars) Star Destroyer (47,000-odd). – RecklessPrudence

It was hard not to look down on the faceless drones. They weren’t literally faceless. Or drones, for that matter. It was just… every day, she saw a hundred of them.

It was difficult to remember faces, names, or even their numbers after the first hour. She completely gave up on it after the first month, referring to the paperwork that Administration shoved at her.

But that never, ever, stopped her from feeling bad about it.

“Mister Probin,” she said to the newest faceless cog. One of the few who didn’t hunker and shrivel in the supplicants’ chair. “There are some disturbing anomalies in your personal assessments.”

“Yeah?” said Mr Probin. “Like what?”

“Well… it’s normal for a low-level employee of your… status…” or lack thereof… “To have a motivational level of less than one thousand NanoListers. Do you know what a NanoLister is, Mister Probin?”

“A very small mouthwash[1]?”

She frowned in confusion and hoped that it came across as benevolent fury rather than kicked puppy. “It’s a unit of motivation, Mister Probin. An entire Lister unit is the amount of effort required to make the laziest known human being to do their job. Thus… the smaller the number, the less concern we have for your future. And, as a senior officer in this establishment, it’s my sad duty to inform you that you can range between ten thousand to almost a million NanoListers on any given day.”

“So?”

“Can you really afford to be unemployed, Mister Probin?”

“Reckon I might have it figured out,” said Mr Probin. “Got some stuff set by. Might join the Hitchhikers. It’s gotta be better than cleaning out vending machines, right?”

And it was always, always the vending machine technicians who scored highly on the Lister scale. “I understand that cleaning a vending machine doesn’t seem to be a very important task…”

“Damn right it isn’t,” said Mr Probin. “And what does a promotion get you? The chance to boss around the people who clean out vending machines. Most of those stress out before they get another promotion, the poor bastards.”

And those who didn’t stress out became the administrators of the people who bossed around the people who cleaned out the vending machines. Nevertheless, she had to tow the company line. “All employees have an equal opportunity for advancement in this establishment, Mr Probin. If you applied yourself–”

“I might become a stock boy for vending machine parts, or even a stock handler!” The sarcasm was strong with this one. “Sorry, miss. But compared to this? Hanging around in filthy spaceports and swapping stories for a lift sounds like heaven.”

“And you have enough stories to suffice?”

Mr Probin grinned. “I make Scheherazade look like a tweenage fanficcer with a thousand and one high school AU’s.”

She upped his motivational score to the MilliLister range[2]. “Well. I shall file your resignation for you. Just to make certain the paperwork is properly done. I wish you every good fortune in your future… career.”

He gave her a lazy -of course- salute and sauntered out of the interview room.

She sighed and reached for the next file. They lost more vending machine technicians this way than she cared to count.

[1] Listerine is the mouthwash.
[2] That’s millions of NanoListers, for those doing the math.

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Complaining to another supernatural being.

“You also rule a world, Morpheus. A world of sleepers and dreamers, of stories. A simple place compared to hell. I envy you. Can you imagine what it was like? Ten billion years providing a place for dead mortals to torture themselves? And like all masochists, they called the shots. ‘Burn me.’ 'Freeze me.’ 'Eat me.’ 'Hurt me.’ And we did. Why do they blame me for all their little failings? They use my name as if I spent my entire day sitting on their shoulders, forcing them to commit acts they would otherwise find repulsive. 'The Devil made me do it.’ I have never made any one of them do anything. Never. They live their own tiny lives. I do not live their lives for them” – RecklessPrudence

(#00447 - A072)

“Have you seen some of the nightmares they come up with?” said Morpheus. “Hells, even the dreams get frightening if you linger to examine them. I had one kid dream that her entire world was rotting away into grey haze[1]. Every dream is their own subconscious trying to tell them something, but they blame me for it all.”

“And it’s not like you can quit, right? They still use your name, so you have to answer the call.”

Morpheus poured himself another generous mug of coffee[2]. “All the work, all the blame, and no pay. You know what we are, Hades?”

“No. What?”

“We’re service industry workers. We provide the service and get none of the thanks.”

“Why’d we even take these shitty jobs?”

“Simple, they called us.”

[1] One of mine.
[2] I love the irony of it, okay?

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Challenge #00446 - A071: Whoops

Supervisor: Seriously? Are you shitting me?
Computer Tech: I never intentionally released anything into the wild. It was proof of concept. It wasn’t anything particularly sophisticated. Just some script kiddie cut and paste bullshit.
S: What is Rule Number Two of Computer Repair? What is it?
CT: “No, a ‘virus’ didn’t download all of that porn.”
S: Are you telling me you invalidated Rule Number Two?
CT: Well, in my case, it was a virus that would download the results of an unfiltered Google Image Search, then erase all traces of itself, and it would only work on a Windows 98 machine that had never been patched. – RecklessPrudence

“Tidy up the code, they said. Make it work more efficiently, they said,” Henry ranted as the security teams took him away. “Find the source of the system errors, they said. It’s only a five-minute job, they said.”

They said a lot of things, really. Lots of things that, taken in retrospect, should have sent up an entire textile factory’s worth of red flags.

“They didn’t tell me until it was too late,” Henry tried to bargain with the implacable security forces firmly attached to his elbows. “I couldn’t know until I was contractually obligated to fix it.”

They didn’t nod. Nor show empathy. Nor make a sound. Just marched on through the maze of corridors on the inexorable path to the holding cells.

“The entire system’s a virus! It’s a virus! The whole operating system is a field test of weaponised software viruses designed to inter-breed! This whole damn station is a virus!”

Many citizens stared as they moved Henry onwards. Many more looked once, and moved on with their individual lives.

This always happened during the maintenance cycle.

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Challenge #00445 - A070: A Little More Complicated

Rule Number One of Computer Repair: Reboot it, dumbarse.

Rule One-A: If rebooting fixed the problem and it doesn’t come back, you didn’t really have a problem.

Rule One-B: If I actually had to tell you to reboot, regardless of whether you had a real problem or not, I’m still charging you for my time. – RecklessPrudence

“…error… error… error…”

Scientists clustered around the tic'ing automaton in clear defiance of all instincts for self-preservation.

“Have you tried turning it off and turning it back on again?”

“Percussive maintenance, that’s the ticket! Give it a good whack!”

“Blinker the blighter! Reduce its field of input.”

“Is robutt, not horse, da?”

“So much for your precision instrument of wonder, eh?” Thadeus laughed loud and long.

Peter stood protectively between all of them and Zero Zero One. Stealing glances at the face of the only one who had mattered. The one who was covering her face with her hands and had almost collapsed into paroxysms of helpless laughter.

This was almost as bad as the Giraffe Incident.

“If you gentlemen would please back away, I can restore my automaton to normal function…”

“All machines respond to a hard reboot,” said Cassius.

“This machine has a memory and I’m currently uncertain as to whether forcing a complete shutdown is tantamount to murder,” growled Peter. At least the others had backed respectably off. Leaving him room to get to Zero Zero One’s cogs and find the loop in its Babbage Thinking Engine.

-clikt-

“…err–ooooohhhhh… Oh Pappy, that weren’t nice…” the automaton ran a skeletal-looking hand over its copper skull.

Peter automatically discouraged the sharp fingers from interfering with its own thought processors. “Let me get your plating back on. There’s a good boy.”

The others had Noticed. There was a general murmuring amongst the Cavulcadium.

Thadeus had gone pale. He knew there was no way he could compete with this.

“Hello,” chirped the automaton. “My name is Rabbit. And this is my Pappy! I got a brother at home, but he ain’t done yet.”

Crap! “Rabbit, this is not what we rehearsed…” he murmured.

“Colonel,” said Fortescue, “Is this going to be a repeat of the Frankenstein Event?”

“Yay! Ya bought my squeeze box! You’re the best Pappy ever!”

“The unfortunate Mister Victor Frankenstein had no sense of personal responsibility in regards to his… creation,” Peter defended. “My automatons, on the other hand - have been programmed with empathy in mind.”

“This goes out to a very special little lady,” said Rabbit. And started to play _There’s Only One Girl in the World For Me_. As the only girl in the room attempted to hide within her fan, her hands, her arms and, when it became too much, under her desk.

He knew he should have waited until he had the entire quartet completed.

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Challenge #00443 - A068: Showdown

Do one brave thing, then run like hell. – RecklessPrudence

This place was the worst labyrinth to get lost in. Especially since, and perhaps because, there was a human in it.

It may have been easy to cut through the rusting walls, but it was also noisy. The monster could hunt him down. And he could tell it was in stealth mode, because it wasn’t cutting through the walls either.

He just had to make it back to the ship…

Five more corners.

CRAP!

The monster froze. He froze. Both simultaneously reached for their plasma guns. Both aimed. Both pressed their triggers…

…and both were out of ammo.

He threw his weapon at the beast and ran for it.

It was only later, safely three jumps away from danger, that he was able to review his footage to discover that the human had done exactly the same thing.

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Challenge #00442 - A067: To Reach…

Perfection is not attainable, but if we chase perfection we can catch excellence.

Vince Lombardi – c/- RecklessPrudence

“Aim high,” it was said, “at least you can’t shoot yourself in the foot.”

“Strive for perfection,” said others. “Accept the remarkable.”

“Do your utmost,” said further others, “and none can criticise.”

They were wrong.

There was plenty of criticism. Plenty of people to show her what went wrong with each and every attempt.

But… the important thing. The truest thing… was that she strove to do better, next time. For every last next time there was.

That’s what mistakes were for.

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Challenge #00439 - A065: Power

You must have a very interesting will.
If by “will” you mean “elaborate post-mortem interactive treasure map on my spare hard drive”, then yes. – RecklessPrudence

“Good Morning!” Mary cheered.

The man who bought her to ‘make his life better’ moaned and turned over in bed.

She no longer had functioning hands to rip the covers off him. Just virtual representations of the hands she used to create art with. So she turned off the heater in his bed, and turned on the chiller. Then she ramped up her volume and got close to his ear. “WAKEY WAKEY EGGS AND BACIE!”

The got results. Call-me-master-dammit stumbled towards the ablution chamber and growled, “Eggs and bac'n err'y mornin’?”

“A plentiful portion of protein promotes progress pointing to your prime,” she chirped. She was enjoying this a little too much for her health. “Today’s word is 'will’, the power of choosing one’s own actions, or a purpose and determination. Use it in a sentence and you may have a sweetie.”

He took a shower straight after flushing the commode. At least she’d taught him to flush immediately, instead of waiting for the miasma to get offensive to do so.

Clean and deodorised, he shuffled into clean clothes and glared at her. “You must have a very interesting will,” he said.

The gum ball dispenser filled with his favourite indulgence dinged and dispensed a single, plastic-coated sphere. “If by 'will’, you mean 'elaborate post-mortem interactive treasure map on my spare hard drive’, then, yes. It’s very interesting indeed. Breakfast first!”

He shoved the bacon and eggs inside his maw with one hand - eating utensils were still a bone of contention -  and had enough time to stuff most of it into his cheeks before he realised what she’d just said. “D'joo jush shay 'tweshur map’?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

Watching him gag down a mouth full of breakfast was her daily entertainment. “Did you just say 'treasure map’?”

“Indeed I did.”

“F'r real treasure.”

“Yes.”

“Like, gold and stuff.”

“Yes.”

“None o’ that 'the treasure was friendship bullshit from them movies y’ make me watch?”

“None at all.”

“Show me.”

“Sadly, I need upgrades to do that. Which means you need to earn a promotion. Which means looking good. Which, of course, means exercise. Chin-ups. Ten. Soon as you can.”

He growled and grumbled, but there was treasure in it for him, so he obeyed.

This man was shockingly easy to manipulate.

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