Challenge #00578 - A203: You Swallowed What?
As one of the tech review magazines said a few years ago when the first 32 GB micro SD cards came out, “At last it is possible for a single human being to accidentally swallow all of the data collected by the Apollo Program.”
“This is it?” Shayde held aloft a crystal with a metal disk on one end. “All'o the survivin’ media from the twentieth century?”
“And some derivative works, yes,” said Rael. “That’s hyper-compressed crystal memory storage. It would take you years to read and view all of it.”
“And this bit’s the interface port?” An ebon talon tapped the metal disk.
“Ah… no. That’s the Palmecki Preventer.”
“Ye woh?”
“Ensign Palmecki gained galactic infamy when, in order to protect what he believed to be sensitive information, he swallowed a data-crystal containing five hundred quadrillobytes of collected fan fiction and choked to death.”
“Ah. Right. Bit of a nong, was ‘e?”
Once again, Shayde’s vocabulary confused and disoriented. “…probably,” Rael allowed.
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Amalgam Answers
So most of Earth is category 4, Australia is category 5, the UK must be something like category 2. There is literally nothing deadly here and the worst we have is stinging nettles and sometimes horseflies.
What would actually constitute a category 1 or less, or a non-deathworld? All I can think of would be an entire world of primary producers but there are established predators in Amalgamverse…
Deathworld categories are judged entirely on the surface inhabited by the dominant cogniscent life form.
Since humans make their homes near volcanic cauldera and in known tornado hotspots, Earth ranks a total of 3.8, and most of that is because of Australia.
They also count lifeforms that are hazardous and toxic to the dominant cogniscent life form.
Category One deathworlds mostly have hazardous seasons [for example, killing winters or killing summers, tornadoes, cyclones or flooding monsoons] or a pernicious species that is known to be hazardous or toxic.
Species from Category Five deathworlds are generally avoided [if they survive to make it into space]. Oddly enough, humans are one of the few species who can stop them in their tracks.
Non-deathworlds, by comparison, have stable and sensible food chains and hardly any naturally toxic life forms. Those that are toxic are mildly so, in the order of discouraging a potential attacker from attacking again. The life forms from these worlds are generally far more fragile than deathworlder stock.
Exposure to deathworlders - even careful ones - is enough to sympathetically toughen up non-deathworlder species. Most cogniscents see this as an advantage and court tourists from gradually incremental deathworlds.
Challenge #00577 - A202: Mass Destruction
Code 19: There is a small child loose in the area.
“LOCKDOWN! LOCKDOWN!” Rodriguez checked all the small storage bays before she locked them. Kept her eyes and ears open for any trace.
No sticky residue. No smeared prints. No suspicious puddles of liquid. No sign that the progeny had been here. And that was the dangerous part.
“I thought human infants were helpless,” said Chor'i'za.
“Human infants, yes. But once they learn how to move, they get into places other mere mortals can’t reach.”
Chor'i'za startled. “I should re-check the storage areas I just locked,” she said.
“Good call.”
“Q'bl'nof j'x'k'l.”
Rodriguez looked down. “Call off the alarm. I found the kid.” She dropped into a kneel. “Hello there. Did your Daddy get lost?”
“Blar yabble gub nuff.”
“I see,” Rodriguez crooned, subtly checking the kid for damage. Ze was chewing on something. “Is that tasty?”
“Pleh.”
“Oh, that’s not good…”
“You can understand that?” boggled Chor'i'za.
“Not a word,” Rodriguez singsonged. She went through her pockets and found a small lollipop. “The kid’s pre-verbal. Ze’s talking in ‘Scribble’. It’s sounds that are almost language. Hey, darling… I bet you’d like to swap that nasty old thing for one of these.” She flourished the lollipop.
“HUAAAAAH!” The one hand not holding the something ze was chewing on went straight out in a universal 'gimmie gimmie’ motion.
“Ah-ah-ah. Ta…?” Rodriguez pointed to the mystery object and held out her hand.
The trade was made. “Ta!”
Rodriguez handed the small cerametal part in all its goopy glory to Chor'i'za “Clean that and find out where the kid got it from. I’ll return this little trouble-maker to Daddy.”
“Blx,” said the kid.
It was only later that they would find out that a very small child had managed to carefully unscrew the one bolt that could lead to a catastrophic engine failure. Admin was still working on a completely childproof door. Difficult when human children could figure out how to circumvent such measures before they could talk.
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Challenge #00576 - A201: The Delicate Process of Acquiring Snuggle-Buddies
The first time K’iiv did the Noise.
“I… have not acquired a snuggle-buddy.”
“Want one?”
K'iiv’s tail flared. “Are… you… volunteering?”
“Are you amenable?”
Now his tail war twitching in a manner dazzle and enrapture female members of his own species. What the human thought of it was beyond him. “Oh very. So much. Yes. I– I–” SKREE-AH!
“AAAAH!” Del ducked in a defensive posture. “Sorry. Sorry. Instinctive reaction.”
“That… happens to humans a lot. That… vocal display is a… release of tension.”
“Sir, you have a phenomenally loud way of stImming.”
“My name is K'iiv.”
“Del,” the human offered her hand.
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Challenge #00575 - A200: Alas My Love…
An Ice Cream van on Amalgam station.
Someone, somewhere, was playing Greensleeves on a glockenspiel. Rael knew this because he was chasing Shayde, who was racing about, trying to find the source of the noise.
The only information she’d supplied had been “MISTAH WHIPPEH![1]” before she had taken off at -as she called it- warp nine.
One day, one day… in the far, far distant future, he would not need half an hour and a pocket history guide to understand anything that came out of her mouth.
But for now, all he could do was attempt to catch her before the sight of a running human caused a panic in the entire Elemeno.
“HA!” Shayde moved like an otter diving for prey as she spotted the goal of her intentions.
Which was, apparently, a luckless citizen with a freezer apparatus attached to the small food dispensary on the back of his adjusted bicycle.
He took one look at the demonic creature running towards him at top speed and took the sensible portion of valour. He attempted to escape.
They got three times around Promenade Park before Shayde pulled out a Two Hour note and called, “Wait oop! I wanted tae buy sommat!”
Citizens quickly learned that having an ice-cream cart was one thing, but a repetitive and recognisable tune earned literally terrifying volumes of customers.
And Shayde was a terrifying volume all by herself.
[1] Mr Whippy is a popular chain of ice cream vans in Australia. Once upon a time, they all played a tinkly, music-box version of Greensleeves. And routinely amazed parents with their progeny’s capability for over-the-horizon detection of said vans.
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Return to Sesame Street!
A while back you posted a horror-splash about a the terror that a hyper-realistic Sesame Street would be. I’d like to see this world reconciled back into the treasured childhood series, rather than as a grim-dark reboot. After the adrenaline-fueled shock wears off, have your protagonist step back, take a deep breath, and realize they’re not really scary at all. I realize this may be a bit specific, but for my peace-of-mind, and that of everyone who grew up on the Street, could you please consider it?
[AN: True horror is the normal gone wrong. Disturbing is, evidently, one’s childhood icons taken to realistic and horrific depths. Original post is here]
(#00574 - A199:)
Big Bird deliberately didn’t move from his nest. The stranger was very scared. He lowered his voice to a murmur and hunkered as small as he could get in his nest.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re new here. You aren’t used to how things are.”
Squeaking noises and sad attempts to dig through fence palings and bricks with his shoulder blades.
“It’s okay to be scared,” cooed Big Bird. “I get scared of lots of things. That’s why I asked Mister Looper to keep the light above his shop on for me.”
“…hooper…” squeaked the stranger.
“Beg pardon?”
“It’s Hooper. Not Looper.”
“That’s right,” big Bird cheered - but made sure to cheer quietly. “I keep messing it up, but it’s okay. One day, I’m going to get it right.” He offered his teddy. “I know you’re scared of me, but Teddy is great for hugs. He’s all soft and there’s no sharp bits.”
“Nah’m good.” Pant pant pant. “Thanks.”
Big Bird put Teddy down on a nearby chair, anyway. Just in case. “The scaredest I ever was? That would have to be the time all the lights went out, all over the city. It was so dark and Miss Nell came and held my hand and showed me the stars and the moon… I could see the whole galaxy, up in the sky.” Big Bird forgot himself and gestured expansively above his head. The man whimpered and Big Bird tucked his wings in again. “I was almost sad when the lights came on again,” he added. “Miss Nell was right… there’s always a light. If you know how to look.”
He’d slumped down into a sitting position in his corner. “What about the other monsters?”
“Other…? Oh, like Mr Snuffleupagus and Grover and Oscar and all the rest?”
Nod.
“They only look scary. I promise they’re all nice. Even Oscar’s nice, in his own way.”
“…they’re so much… sharper… here.” A helpless look upwards. He looked so lonely. “Even you’re… sharper…”
“Sometimes,” said Big Bird, “people need sharp. I bet you have some sharp bits, too. The important part is to only use them when you need to, and not hurt people with them.”
The stranger winced. “Yeah. I’ve hurt people and regretted it.” He got up and took up Teddy from the chair to hug it while he sat there. “Maybe I could stay here a while and learn a few things.”
Big Bird leaned down to whisper, “That’s why all the humans come.”
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Challenge #00573 - A198: One Fine Evening in the Nightvale Maternity Ward
“Slowly, the doctor turned. Extending a pointing finger, he said “But … but that’s an orange … !”"
“Yes,” said Mrs Murray. You know her, she was born with octupoid-like tentacles instead of hair.
“We couldn’t be happier,” said Mr Murray, through the independently levitating ouija board that is his sole means of communication. Since he is corporeally-challenged.
“All we want to know,” asked Mrs Murray carefully, “is to the signs and portents indicate a girl orange, a boy orange, or something in-between.”
“We want to use the correct pronouns from the get-go,” said Mr Murray.
At which point, Doctor Smith turned and fled from the nursery, and was last seen headed towards the cactus grove where the waterfront boardwalk never actually existed.
We of course wish Doctor Smith a quick and speedy recovery from his retrograde amnesia. We are also assured that the Sherrif’s Secret Police are going to keep an eye on him as he walks uncertainly between the venomous cactii and attack-trained triffids.
And now… the weather.
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Writing Prompt
The first encounter of T’reka and her people with Big Bird (or any of the Muppets, really, because why wouldn’t they still be around?)
(#00572 - A197)
Still relatively impaired by her injured leg, T'reka stared in amused confusion at the screen.
It was a program meant for juvenile entertainment and/or education (it was hard to tell, with humans. It may be both and something else), she could tell by the puppets. And it was a locally-produced show, because she recognised some of the people teaching children the human alphabet.
Some of the creatures made into puppets were impossible. The stylised talking frog, for example, had to be a figment of someone’s imagination. Likewise, the giant yellow bird.
And it was a sign that the humans desired Numidid interaction that they included a remarkably accurate puppet Numidid into their show.
They called the imaginary bird Kipkip and aped her -and her fellow scientist’s- curiosity about everything human with unnerving accuracy.
This was art imitating life, to teach their young about the world and the people who shared it.
On one hand, it showed a marked goal of sharing information that could be cast in a positive light. On the other hand, it showed scientific curiosity as completely normal.
She was going to catch hell from Kal'rike when Administrator Ser saw this…
“You’re awake early,” murmured Siriki. “…or I’m late.”
T'reka checked the wall chronometer. “I’m awake early, be at ease.” She asked, “Do you see the same thing on the screen as I do?”
Siriki looked. “Oh dear. Administrator Ser isn’t going to like that…”
T'reka slumped into her nesting. “And here I was, hoping it was a hallucination.”
“It could pass as one,” said Siriki helpfully.
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Challenge #00571 - A196: The Big Reveal
http://cnvvj.tumblr.com/post/88170279521/wintersoldjer-but-what-if-cyclops-can-wear
He called them all together into the big meeting room. They gathered into their appointed seats and in a general air of confusion.
“For years, I’ve made myself scarce on April first. And for those same years, all of you have managed to make me your butt-monkey for pranks. Every joke in the book and some of the new ones… you played them all on me.”
Now most of them had their ‘oh no’ faces on.
“And for those years, I’ve been wondering how to pay all of you back.” Scott Summers took his famous ruby-quartz glasses off and, eyes closed, used his shirt to clean them. “And than I thought 'fuck it, you little bastards deserve this’.” And opened his eyes to the gathered table.
There were only two people who didn’t duck and cover with terrified shrieking. The Professor, who knew everything, and Sara Louise Adrien, who had helped make the contacts.
She was the first one to say, “Really, Mr Summers?”
“Come on. You know what April First is like for me.”
“It’s about to get worse, Slim,” growled Logan. “You made me spill my beer.”
“…ah crap…”
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Challenge #00570 - A195: Casual Toxicity
“Absolutely not! There is no way in-”
*human calmly peels and eats a banana*
“Er, whatever you say, sir.”
The Membletak did not adapt well to their new, human captains. They did not adapt well to the insanity of their commanding officers.
And they did not adapt well to illogical commands.
But Captain Millbury was prepared.
“Sir. The odds against surviving such a manoeuvre intact are astronomical to begin with, you can’t possibly expect the crew to–”
Millbury opened the Special Cooler and extracted a banana.
“–obey… such… a… ridiculous…”
Milbury peeled the banana as her second-in-command trailed nervously off. Geiger counters on the bridge erupted into static. Membletak backed away from her as she took a bite. “By all means, continue,” she said around her mouthful. “I believe you had a rational argument?”
“Sending out the order now, Captain.”
It was a rule that confused many in the Galactic Alliance in later years: Speak softly and always have a banana.
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