Challenge #00501 - A126: Sing-Along

Bitzer having a happy day and warbling through it.  Because sometimes it only matters if the music feels right for you.

Bitzer watched the clock as the second hand ticked closer and closer to The Time.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

Extract the vinyl EP, a souvenir from Walter Robotics and her time there, carefully from its sleeve.

The record player was already warmed up and set to her preferred levels.

Seven. Six. Five.

Record on the spindle. Speed set to 45. Needle free of dust.

Four. Three. Two.

Drop the record on the turntable.

Hold the head above the rotating vinyl.

One. Eight O'clock AM!

Drop the head.

“Attune your ears to the grinding gears…”

Bitzer sang along as she set up her activities for the day. “Colonel Walter was shocked, when he learned from the nile…” If it was noise to Matter Mistress Carol, she never said.

And if being happy came at the cost of a few wires and probes during the day, or perplexing questions from Miz Carol, then that was a good price to pay.

Miz Carol came down, coffee in hand and pyjamas still on, during the “La da da da da"s. Looking her usual morning mess. She sat on the stairs and watched Bitzer attempt to dance.

Both waited until the very last, "A very big steam-powered gee-raffe what smokes,” before attempting speech. “Good morning, Miz Carol. Will you come do the Nannergens[1] with me?”

“Nnnngghh…” Miz Carol took another swig of coffee. “How can you be so cheerful? Th’ sun’s barely up…”

“The sun’s been up for three hours, Miz Carol,” and then the next song started. “And I’ve been up for four.”

“Can’t miss Danger Mouse, can we?”

“Or Captain Planet,” Bitzer sang as she did the Nannergens. “Or Super Ted[2]. I listened with the headphones and tried not to yell at the screen.”

Miz Carol yawned. “I know. But Danger Mouse still needs to be nicer to poor Penfold. That was closer to seven thirty. You’re getting better.”

Oh. That was a relief. “I am ver-very sorry about the oth-other times.”

“I know. You tell me every morning. And I’ve forgiven you. Promise.”

“It’s almost time for science, isn’t it?”

Yawwnnn… “Yeah. Quarter past eight. Time for science.”

Bitzer put the B-side on and settled down in the chair for the wires and the scans. The chair was angled just so, so that she could see the faces of the robots who had been singing their songs on stage while she’d been undergoing examinations in the labs. With her gears and cogs in the open and multiple science types going through her workings.

This was much better.

“I was lost and scared and all alone and there was darkness and all of my fears had grown into a monster I could not contain it had claws and teeth and oh so many fangs… But then… I saw… your eyes…” she crooned along.

It was a pretty song. And it made Miz Carol smile.

Being not alone any more was the best thing in the world.

[1] That little step the band does during ‘Steamboat Shenanigans’. Named phonetically.

[2] Actual morning lineup on the ABC during the late 80’s, early 90’s. Don’t ask me how I know 9_9

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Challenge #00500 - A125: Further Proof, if Any Were Really Needed

Prompt: Something involving the gympie gympie tree.

Because that is one scary tree.

[AN: Slightly scarier is the Manchineel, aka The Tree That Hates You. It’s native to Florida, possibly by cosmic accident. But if you read up on the Gympie Gympie, it’s a close call.]

Every living planet in the known universe has an island or a continent like Australia. Except for N'Oz (Originally, New Australia) which is almost all like Australia, except for one small island/continent which is like a fairy-tale pastoral Europe. Nobody on N'Oz lives there.

And it is in one of the more heavily forested sections of N'Oz that a curious visitor may spot the Gympie Gympie Research Centre. In its heavily-fortified confines, guarded by airlocks and multiple hazmat precautions, there grows a stable population of Gympie Gympie trees.

A tree that, like most things found in Australia-level toxic environments, is out to get even with anything that moves on behalf of its leafy brethren.

“I do not understand,” say the visiting aliens. “This tree is so toxic that even third-hand contact causes excruciating pain. And you bought it with you?”

“Yeah, sure,” say the native N'Ozies. “Something that bloody dangerous has got to be good for something.”

Visitors are regularly reminded that humans are a species that expose themselves to toxins - not just for medical purposes, but also for entertainment. Yet, they are inevitably surprised when they find out about the GGRC.

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Challenge #00499 - A124: Dominion

“Look there, that’s the fourth tribe —”

“Herd.”

“…whatever. Fourth herd of cows we’ve driven past in the last half-hour. Between that and what I saw regarding the cats you live with and you cleaning waste from their box of sand earlier,  I’m just saying, I’m not really that convinced you humans are the dominant species on this planet.”

“Well, we are kinda high up on the food chain,” said Sandra. “I’ve tried to explain this to you before. We’re omnivores. Some animals are the kind we keep for food. Like all these cows. Some, we keep for company. Like my cat.”

“You do not eat all things that you can,” insisted D'tez. “Your diet is very restricted in comparison to your available food.”

“Well, just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Sandra checked the map as she drove. Still on course. “We have cultural and ethical reasons for not eating everything that isn’t nailed down.”

“But a simple expansion of what is edible would eliminate your food issues.”

“We’ve been through this, D'tez. Humans view insects as dirty. We don’t like to eat dirty food.”

“But they are abundant, plentiful and tasty! They take up much less space and are far easier to raise.”

Sandra sighed. “It wouldn’t be the first time humanity didn’t do something just because it made sense.” She sighed. She was starting to agree with the Galactics. Humans were insane.

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Challenge #00498 - A123: Obvious Design Flaw

All those corrosive things humans excrete can come in handy sometimes, right?

(“We have to get out of this maze as fast as we can, but if we turn on the plasma cutter the monster will hear us!”
“Stand back, I got this” *spits at wall*)

“Sucrose! What the heck kind of alien builds walls out of sucrose?” asked Mabel.

“I have no idea, but we are going to need one hell of a dentist by the time we get out of here.” Trisha gave up licking the next wall to worry at the thin spot she’d been making.

“Power core’s five more walls away,” said Gladys.

Krink. Tink. CLACK. Trisha put a fragment of wall in her mouth. “You’re next, Mabs.  My tongue’s feeling like old leather.”

“Right.” Mabel wriggled through the hole and began licking the next wall in their way. “They could’ve at least sprung for flavouring. What’s wrong with a little hint of orange? Or mint?”

*

The entire crew huddled in their quarters, watching their monitors in horror as the creatures they thought captives were literally eating their way through solid sucra walls. Proof against anything that their fellow Hemitt could devise.

These aliens were unstoppable!

And yet, they avoided essential infrastructure. They did not eat the pipes or the wires, or any vital thing. Just the walls between them and their goal. But their unstoppability made a lasting impression on them, all the same.

Even now, with the humans declared merely insane and not hazardous, the Hemitt still make features about monsters that can eat buildings.

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Challenge #00497 - A122: When The Rot Came In

The beginning of the end of Nufurria

(or- I’m *really* curious as to how this society began, what it was like in its heyday, and how interaction with the larger galactic culture changed it.  How do the Nufurrian ‘masters’ see themselves?)

Conception.

“Don’t you get it? We don’t have to be freaks and weirdoes any more! We can take all the furries and otherkin and everybody who loves anthropomorphics and go make a world in our own image. We have the technology to give the otherkin the bodies they deserve. We have the technology to make anthros. It’ll be just like heaven!”

Perception.

“Yeah, I’m gonna be surrounded with busty bitches who’ll do whatever I tell them to! It’s gonna be perfect.”

“I’m gonna have a bunch'a pigs and make ‘em farm truffles. Hilarious.”

“I’m going to be a glorious unicorn. At last.”

Inception.

“We’re here to celebrate the beginning of a wonderful new world!”

The crowds cheered. It was going to be the best party ever. The first batches of newly Uplifted beings were coming of age. Being part of society. The Changed welcomed them into their homes.

An uncomfortable amount of the Unchanged welcomed more into their bedrooms.

Deception.

“No, I’m not mistreating her. She loves it, don’t you Bitch?”

Bitch wagged her tail and nodded. Her master had said her name! And if she was a good girl, he would give her a treat.

Exception.

“You have to understand, Rover. Your puppies will go to new homes very quickly. People love puppies. It’s just… harder… to house a full-grown Dog.”

“You will make sure they go to good homes? Loving homes? I don’t want to see them in the arena. Or… in those movies…”

“We’re underfunded, I’m sorry.” Two sets of eyes, human and canid, looked at the scrawl that had been on the wall for weeks.

It read: DIE BLEDIN HART PUSY BICH!

They didn’t have the money, the time or the resources to get rid of it. Halfhearted attempts with whitewash didn’t work. The paint kept bleeding through.

“We have to take fosters at their word.” The humans teary eyes completed the story.

Reception.

“Hi there,” said the Dog at the podium. He wore a golden sash over parachute pants and a pocket-bandollier. He also had a golden chain that kept a cape made out of an enormous towel on his shoulders. “My name is O'Ranges. I am made ambassador for Nufurria. This is my human, Aelki! She found me in a box and made everything better.” O'Ranges picked up the diminutive Aelki and hugged her like a child would embrace a teddy bear. “There are many like me who wait in boxes for good home. Many never find one. Please. We need help.”

The Galactic Alliance was only too glad to assist.

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Challenge #00496 - A121: Adventures With Incompatible Technology

The robots of Steam-Powered Giraffe meet Van Rijn’s Muses. 

{Fldth-whomp}

“I’m not saying she wasn’t a nice lady, Hatchy, I’m saying you really should have given that big, dangly robot her portal gun back. It’s done weird things to your cannon.”

“I like my new can-non,” grumbled a second voice. Presumably Hatchy.

“I’m k-k-kinda fond of it m-m-m-myself.” said a third. “But it’s t-takin’ us from p-pickle ta pickle, bro.”

Tinka had decided she didn’t like the sound of these strangers. In a case of three against one, Tinka inevitably came out as the loser.

She had lost enough already.

So she did the dumbest thing you could do in a room with three sudden strangers. She moved and tried to hide.

“We ain’t al-l-l-lone, fellas,” said the third.

“Well, hello there,” cheered the first. “Don’t be alarmed, we mean no harm. We’re just you’re regular, average, everyday steam powered autonomous automatons..”

“Speak for yourself, b-b-bro. I’d rath-rath-rather say we’re super awesome.”

“Rabbit, we’re trying to make friends, here… Not scare them worse.”

“Let me try?” said Hatchy.

“What? It wor-works on the stage.”

“Please let me try,” said Hatchy.

“We’re not on a stage, Rabbit.”

“Why’d ya gotta be such a wet b-b-b-b-blanket, th'Spine?”

Th'Spine and Rabbit continued to bicker. Twin blue lanterns swept the area with spotlights. “Hello?” said Hatchy. “I am friendo. Would you like to say hel-lo?”

Tinka tried the hat on the stick trick.

“That is a ve-ry nice hat, friendo. You can put it back on. We will not harm you. My name is Hatch-worth. What’s yours?”

“Ti-Tink-Tink-Tinka…” she risked a peek. “I nee-nee-nee-need re-rep-air-air-airs…”

“Ooh, no won-der you were scared. It’s all right now. We can help.”

*

The other two were The Spine and Rabbit. Twin clanks of an original four made by a Colonel Walter. Aka ‘Pappy’.

Their family was more intact that hers. Simply because the people around them cared for the clanks as if they were merely artificial people.

“These are Walter Robotics maintenance nanites,” said The Spine. It was a small vial of grey goo that… squirmed. “Keep them in the vial and on your person for three days, at least. Then you can pour them over your gears and they should keep you up to snuff.”

“They need that long to make your ac-quain-tance,” added Hatchy.

“And I d-d-d-don’t like 'em,” added Rabbit. “I wanna be outta here before they happen t’ me.”

The Spine merely rolled his eyes, as if they’d had an argument about that a thousand times before. “Frankly, ma'am, we don’t belong in this world. We’re trying to get home.”

“Where is home?” asked Tinka, clutching the tiny vial to her chest.

“San Diego,” said Rabbit.

“That’s in A-mer-i-ca,” added Hatchworth.

Tinka almost swooned. The highly hazardous Americas? And they lived there?

“And another reality,” clarified The Spine. “Most of the time, it’s rather boring.”

“Except when I’m ar-r-r-round,” added Rabbit.

Tinka watched them walk through a hole in reality to yet another world. How long had they been wandering? How much longer would they be doing so?

She contemplated the vial. They had never said she had to use all of it on herself…

The next time she found one of her sisters, she would be prepared…

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Challenge #00495 - A120: An Attempt Was Made

And they never spoke of the peanut-butter lobster incident again.

Meals, they said, were a uniting factor. Food, they said, was universal. Humans, they said, would eat anything.

But not this.

Plate after plate after plate of it came back. They were supposed to love lobster! But they were sending this all back with comments like, “it tastes funny” or “I’m allergic to the sauce”.

One of them even came into the kitchens to find Byaadi weeping into what should have been the mashed potatoes.

“I’m guessing there’s some problems with human cuisine?”

“I don’t understand,” Byaadi wept. “The recipe seemed simple enough. Lobsters and butter…”

“Yes, but… not peanut butter.”

Blink. Sniff. Gasp. “There’s more than one kind?”

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Challenge #00494 - A119: One Fine Evening in the Commerce District of Station Alpha Five.

Sorry, but here’s another prompt http://cnvvj.tumblr.com/post/78934269709/harblkun-hookteeth-beltaguise-fantasy

Personally I just submit them as I have ideas/spot them on tumblr, but I try not to send 20 at once

[AN: I’m sure I did this before… But again]

“I’ve found a B or a D is better for me. There’s a fine balance between thermal security and back, neck and shoulder problems.”

A human sauntered over to them with a pleased smile on his face and hooded eyes. “Hel-lo gorgeous…” he began.

Again? Vroxx rolled his eyes. “Count the brow ridges, pal. I’m male.”

“I know,” said the human. “Captain Jack Harkness. So very glad to make your acquaintance.”

Oh. Oh. OH! “Uh. This is… new territory for me…”

This earned him a wider grin. “Then you are in for a treat. Assuming you’re amenable?”

“Oh. Uh. Er. Yes?”

“Music to my ears!”

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Challenge #00493 - A118: Blood!

Nosebleeds, or to be more precise what do the other cogniscients think when it happens. Do they go for a medical kit and flutter about while the human sighs and holds their nose, or do they comment that at least the humans do something normally for once (but what scared them enough to defensively spout blood?) or something else entirely?

The human - the first they had met, was making an intermittent noise with its proboscis.

Snurf.

Communicating was spotty. Both sides only knew a few words of GalStand and the rest was pantomime. Interspersed, of course, with snurf.

Finally, the human dragged an arm across its face. Painting its limb with a vivid display of bright red blood. It muttered a human curse and pinched its proboscis shut while it fumbled for something to stopper it with.

The Temikai were perplexed, of course. They wondered for decades about what they had done to provoke a nurturing response from the human.

And they were understandably upset when they found out what it really was.

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Challenge #00492 - A117: Imagine There’s No People

Challenge: No humans, or anything pertaining to them at all. That includes human-made or modified things, creatures, places, foods etc.

[AN: Ooooo a GOOD one :D]

Belok took note of the unusual structure as ze approached it. Ze could see that it was made out of ancient hulks of previous civilisations’ stellar vessels, but they had been… conglomerated. Docked, patched and - in at least one case - crashed together into one unappealing whole.

Ze tried all comms avenues including radio and flashing zir ship lights at them.

No response.

It had to have been made. Something like this does not just happen by accident. The accidents looked more like asteroids than… mishmash stations.

As a last resort, Belok matched vectors with the thing and tried peeking into the windows. Those ze could find. There seemed to be atmosphere in there. Thin stuff, and not friendly to zir species.

Therefore, it was polite to dock, and prudent to wear a suit.

The mishmash station did not have any spinning portions or gravity. Belok therefore had to struggle with the magnetic grapples as ze looked around.

Life here was airborne. Swimming though the atmosphere like aquatic life. Most seemed to be… jellyfish.

Some travelled in swarms. Glittering and flashing. It looked almost like a dance. Belok stood still and kept zir arms, legs and tail akimbo as the dancing jellies swarmed around zir.

The comms crackled into life. “…low grade radio transmissions.”

“I can hear you,” ze tried not to yawp, but the excitement was too difficult to contain. “Who is speaking?”

“We do not understand ‘I’,” said the voice. Voices. Talking in harmony. Perfectly synchronised. “You is one colony?”

“I am one individual. Am I talking to the swarm surrounding me? I note that the… lights… seem to be in sync with the audio I hear.”

“We are the swarm Ch'nophth. We are surrounding a new thing. A singular thing inside metal. You carry your environment with you. We carry our environment with us.”

As far as first contacts went, the meeting between the Jelly Dancers and the Riopa was a shining example that very few followed.

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