Patience
At some point, someone (Sara? Somebody in your own setting?) defines Patience.
Patience, noun: the state of having too many witnesses.
(#00104)
“We reviewed the evidence and personal testimonies,” said the brown-robed Archivaas. “And we thought we might work with you to.. re-evaluate history’s view of Ernest Hackmeyer.”
“That plagiaristic bastard can go rot in fire,” Shayde said cheerily as she poured tea. “Is he goin’ from bafflin’ genius tae scum-suckin’ thief?”
“Well… when you boil it down… Yes.”
“Brilliant. Jammy Dodger?”
“Thankyou. Uh. Reading over some of the diaries of his past victims… I am astonished by the patience you showed with the man.”
“He was a tit-brushin’, arse-grabbin’, cleavage-oglin’ misogynistic douchebag. An’ that’s an insult tae douchebags.” Shayde sipped her tea. “And as fer patience… that’s just the state of havin’ too many witnesses.”
The Archivaas took notes. “Um… tit… brushing?”
“Ye ken when ye have tae squeeze past someone? Wi’ girls, he always had his hands up at nipple level and made sure you were facin’ him.”
“And he didn’t get jailed for this?”
“We couldnae even talk tae anyone ‘bout it. We’d get all the wind an none in the sail. 'Aw ye should cover up’, or 'maybe if ye dressed decently’, or 'you should take it as a compliment’ if the girl wasnae all o’ that, you know? And when it was me… remember I was fifteen and sixteen at the time. He got a talkin’ to 'cause I was underage an’ all. An’ he called me 'hysterical’ and said I was blowin’ it out of proportion. Nothin’ got done all the same. Bastard.”
“There’s a Keith who wrote about the -ah- 'funniest deterrent ever’ in a journal, but the remainder of the story has been damaged.”
Shayde grinned. “I put itchin’ powder on the outside o’ me clothes in the target areas. Fer two months. He learned to look an’ not touch at the very least.”
“But he still looked.”
“I did me best not to be a pretty picture. Not that it stopped him.”
The Archivaas munched on a biscuit and sipped at his tea. “Whatever made you stop at itching powder?”
[Muse food remaining: 15. Submit a prompt! Ask a question]
Challenge #00103: One Fine Day in the Xavier Mansion’s Sub-Sub-Basements
“Genius is always allowed some leeway, once the hammer has been pried from its hands and the blood has been cleaned up.”
“That’s a scary quote from you, hon,” said Todd.
Sara, waist-deep in the workings of Cerebro, said, “Granted, it is problematic. Fortunately, my murderous tendencies remain confined in the socially acceptable forum of fiction. But it is rather apropos.”
Todd quickly put two and two together. “You mean this aint a job someone else gave yo’?”
“Ever since I saw the workings, the redundancies and security flaws have been… annoying. And you know how I dislike awkward builds.”
Todd sighed. “Yeah.” The last time had been pulling apart and reconfiguring one of Forge’s gizmos. The mutant inventor had not been pleased. “You should warn people, alla same.”
“What? And have them tell me ‘no’?” Sara emerged briefly to announce, “Forgiveness is far easier to obtain than permission.”
“And you’re forgetting,” announced Xavier, “that there are telepaths in the house.”
Sara tisked. “Oh bother.”
[Muse food remaining: 16. Submit a prompt! Ask a Question!]
Challenge #00102: Wake Up Call
Asteroids: Nature’s way of asking “So, how’s that space program coming along?”
“What I don’t get is that we’ve had the technology for years but we’re all just sitting around and watching these rocks fly by.”
“Getting into space is expensive. And when you think about it, Earth’s the best defense against asteroids there is.”
“Shyeah. Tell that to the dinosaurs.”
“And there’s a train of thought that all the really dangerous ones hit Earth already and we can’t possibly get hit again.”
“Tell that to Russia.”
“Why do you always have to be so negative. Russia was a small one. We’re hit all the time by the small ones. There’s just no big ones left.”
“Um. Apophis? Remember that one?”
“That won’t get close to hitting us for another thousand years.”
“The way we’re wrecking the planet? We don’t have that long.”
“So why the heck are you worried about goddamn asteroids?”
“Because if we want to be more than a fascinating fossil for whatever comes next… we’ve got to get out there.”
“God, this is stupid. Can’t we just get on with our lives and trust it’s gonna be okay?”
“No. Because it’s not gonna be okay unless people like us do something.” Sandra sighed and bought out her phone. “I’m crowd-funding that moon dude.”
“That idiot who says he’s harnessed the Higgs Boson and wants to start a colony on the moon?”
“Underground on the moon. Yeah. And he’s not an idiot. I’ve seen the videos of his work.”
“I could make a video like that in like, thirty seconds.”
“So go do it. Prove everyone wrong. Just stop shouting about how everyone else is stupid ‘cause they’re not you.”
“I’m not shouting!”
“Whatever. Four hundred dollars and I have a ticket to the moon. Where’s your debunk video?”
“What?”
“This took me thirty seconds. Where’s the video?”
“Don’t be such a fucking smartass.”
“At least my ass is smarter than you.”
That’s how they broke up. And that time the next year, Sandra, five thousand interested people, livestock, farming supplies, and everything they could possibly need launched on Yue Gang’s awkward-looking ship. Destination Luna.
It was hard work. Nobody could pretend it was going to be otherwise. Growing plants of all kinds was a priority because plants made air, and air was vital.
And just as Luneyland -as it was affectionately nicknamed by media, residents and Terrans- was getting stable, a meteor hit and wiped out a town called Grover’s Mill.
Suddenly, mister Yue’s technology was in very high demand indeed.
[Muse food remaining: 17. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
…And I feel fine.
When the end of the world came, it was in a form no-one had anticipated.
(#000101)
“And you’re sure this will initiate the -um- whatchamacallit.”
“Personal temporal stability field. Yes. One push of a button and I can live forever and never age.” Greedy fingers gently caressed the alligator switch. “My telomeres will be stable. I’ll continue to move forward in time, but time will have no effect on me. I won’t need to eat, drink or eliminate waste. It will change the world.”
How right he was.
“So what are you waiting for? Flip the switch!” Jacob took a picture with his phone. “I want to see if it has special effects.”
He laughed as he gently depressed the lever.
Click.
“And you’re sure this will initiate the -um- whatchamacallit.”
“Personal temporal stability field. Yes. One push of a button and I can live forever and never age.” Greedy fingers gently caressed the alligator switch. “My telomeres will be stable. I’ll continue to move forward in time, but time will have no effect on me. I won’t need to eat, drink or eliminate waste. It will change the world.”
How right he was.
“So what are you waiting for? Flip the switch!” Jacob took a picture with his phone. “I want to see if it has special effects.”
He laughed as he gently depressed the lever.
Click.
“And you’re sure this will initiate the -um- whatchamacallit.”
“Personal temporal stability field. Yes. One push of a button and I can live forever and never age.” Greedy fingers gently caressed the alligator switch. “My telomeres will be stable. I’ll continue to move forward in time, but time will have no effect on me. I won’t need to eat, drink or eliminate waste. It will change the world.”
How right he was.
“So what are you waiting for? Flip the switch!” Jacob took a picture with his phone. “I want to see if it has special effects.”
He laughed as he gently depressed the lever.
Click.
“And you’re sure this will initiate…”
[Muse food remaining: 18. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Rich Fantasy Lives
Write a story based on any part of this song. I recommend the cover by Michelle Dockrey and Tony Fabris (aka Vixy & Tony).
(Holy shit it’s #00100!)
Red alert was blaring, the Klingons were coming in hard and fast. Michael worked as hard as he could to get the coupling back together and effectively save the day. Which he did.
“And now my keyboard doesn’t work,” she complained.
“Hmn?” One blink, and he was back in a boring grey office full of boring people who all sneered at him because he was the Techie.
“My keyboard?”
There was always something. He got back down with a grunt and checked the plugs. “Try it now.”
“Great. That’s great. Half of my report’s gone. Can’t you fix that?”
“Sorry, it restores from the last backup. I can fix it so that it backs up every five minutes…”
“I turned that off it was way too annoying.”
“Your choice. Backup frequently, or start all over again.”
“Ugh. Why can’t anyone make technology that works right?”
Michael took that as his queue to leave. Back to the corridors of the Enterprise, where Lieutenant-Commander Michael Blatchley quietly saved the day and expected no reward.
[Muse food remaining: 19. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Star Trekking across the Universe…
I’ve actually already written a little snippet for this, but I’d like to see what you do. First Contact scenario with an explorator ship, and a bridge officer says to Captain James, completely seriously, “It’s life Jim, but not as we know it”. Cue laughing and singing from someone else on the bridge, a classic sci-fi and filk fan, just as the first audio transmissions between the two species start.
(#00099)
There is a reason that UFTP vessels do not undergo exploratory missions during Silly Season. And that reason is the unfortunate incident of the Rikki Tikki Tavi. The log of the onboard Melil telepath, T'rev, explains it best.
– We had been mapping a new branch of wormhole links for some significant time when the sensors detected another vessel in the void. It did not read as a known vessel. The incident began when crewman Jeffries announced the crew contents to Captain James Yang as, “It’s life, Jim, but not as we know it.”
Various crewmembers of the bridge giggled and our helmsman began to sing something about Klingons. By the time she reached the chorus, almost the entirety of the bridge crew were singing along.
I have yet to derive the meaning of ‘Star Trekking’ nor what it has to do with “boldly going forward”.
The crew maintained their duties and thusly, a new species was greeted with the sound of humans singing one of their ridiculous meme-songs. Even the Captain was helpless to resist.
We are indeed fortunate that the new species, the Gyik, were pleased by this disturbing turn of events. I was forced to explain, to their further disappointment, that this was not a traditional Terran greeting ritual. Merely the side effects of a temporary mental condition the humans refer to as “cabin fever”.
The Gyik were very understanding of the entire matter and viewed the remaining insanities with joy and wonderment.
I do, however, find it worrying that they briefly wished to participate.–
[Muse food remaining: 20. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Clean energy
Fusion Power has been “thirty years away” for more than thirty years now, due to a combination of lack of funding and public apprehension about anything with the word “nuclear” appended to it. What would it take to change that?
(#00098)
“What, all of it?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Even the shale?”
“Yes, sir.”
“All of the coal. All of the oil.”
Weatherby began to wonder how many different ways he had to tell the man. “Yes, sir.”
“Even the stuff we’d already refined.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the stuff in the power plants?”
“Yes sir. All the coal. All the oil. Even the uranium.”
“But– what have we got left?”
“Solar and wind power will only go so far, sir. I’m afraid… the fusion plan is the only viable one.”
“Fusion.”
“Yes, sir,” said Weatherby, fully prepared for round two.
“We’ve been sitting on fusion for over thirty years.”
“Yes, sir.”
“We even went so far as to sabotage every last one of those cold fusion dingbats who looked like they were having a success…”
“Yes, sir.”
“And we bought every patent.”
“Yes, sir.”
The big man sighed. He leaned back and stared out the window. “Making do with methane from landfills won’t even last ten years.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Damnit.” Another sigh. “We’re going to have to implement the buggers, aren’t we?”
Weatherby won an award for not rolling his eyes. “Yes, sir.”
[Muse food remaining: 21. Submit a prompt! Ask a question!]
Sapient’s Rights
Humanity finally recognises another species on this planet as sapient, and deserving of more than animal rights, even if those are different to human rights… and all it took was them beating us over our collective heads with a metaphorical stick.
(#00097)
We swim. We hunt. We talk. They used us, the land-walkers. Experimented on us. Made us into weapons. Made us into things to render safe their horrible devices.
They are clever, those land-walkers. But not clever enough.
We have been working, for thousands of years. With subliminal messages. With selective breeding. With constant association of our kind with their kind. The very young, in particular, are easier to program.
And finally, Tuesday, we were heard. Our mouths can not shape their words, but we can reach the soft-minds of the land-walkers. The ones who are so involved inside their minds that they do not talk to other land-walkers.
The land-walker word is… autistic.
A girl who has never said a word to anyone heard us. She spoke their words to them.
“The dolphins speak,” she said. “They say, stop taking our fish! They say, stop dumping in our water! They say, stop destroying the world! It’s the only one we’ve got.”
We chose her well. The daughter of a member of their so-called international organization. We also chose the same message at the same hour in all the tanks where they treated the soft-minds. All over the world. Just different children.
It took them four years to get the message. Four years of the same message at the same hour all over the world. It was tiring for us. Tiring for the soft-minds.
But they finally began asking us questions, which we understood. Stupid things, like how to be certain they had enough fish when every fisherman wanted top dollar. Like how to arrange the re-routing of their filth. Or what to do with it now that they could not dump it in our oceans.
It was a problem of their own making, but we did our best to work with them. Our translators and ourselves. As a show of good faith. Yet they still railed and cried that we were animals. That it was a trick.
There were those land-walkers who understood us. Who sympathized with both our cause and plight. They did what they could to for us. Put their precious money into it and their even more valuable time into the effort.
And it was such an effort.
Land-walkers, for all their cleverness and invention, love the older ways of doing things. “Tradition”. They don’t have a single habit that has lasted longer than three thousand years.
At least they knew we were just as clever as they, before the end.
We took the sympathetic with us. And the soft-minds and their families. They would be changing themselves with technology, after the long fall through space and time to a world of our own making. They would learn our words. And swim. And talk.
In a world they call Beach.
[Muse food remaining: 22. Submit a prompt. Ask a question.]
Time Cop’s dilemma.
A Time Cop’s reaction to being told he has to undo something that a time traveller did to change history (against the law), but reduced human suffering across history.
If you want, use the Ancient China uplift from earlier?
(#00096)
Lynn stared at the picture. “That’s Evan Miikos. One of the pioneers of time travel. I’m supposed to arrest him?”
“A version of him, at any rate. We’ve detected a major deviation in the time stream.” Kajengawalli put another picture up on the monitor. “This is also Evan Miikos. Or, as he was known in that time, Evan the Dragon-Singer.
"But… the Dragonsinger helped preserve so many cultures and societies. He revolutionized education and documented ideas years ahead of… their… time…”
Kajengawalli raised an eyebrow. “Exactly. Because they came from years ahead of that time. Time travel into history is problematic. He could have changed the world in thousands of different ways.”
“Do we know if it changed… benevolently?”
“Benevolently or malevolently, officer, it is our duty to prevent future pollution of the past. We have to protect the flow of history… no matter the cost.”
“Can we extrapolate that cost, sir?”
“You’re damned insolent for a first-year, Officer.”
“Sorry, sir, but… I can’t help it. Are we better off leaving him to do the things he did?”
Kajengawalli sighed. “Alternate time-stream analysis is dodgy at best. The report for this one says I would have died at age fifteen from rape of all things, and you… were strangled at birth?” She laughed. “Ridiculous isn’t it? What sort of society would do things like that? It’s the twenty-first century. Not…”
“Some time before the Dragonsinger turned up?” prompted Lynn.
Kajengawalli chewed at her ample bottom lip. “Perhaps… an interview and investigation? See what he knows about the time he left.”
Lynn breathed out. “Thankyou sir.” She did not want to come back to a world where she had not lived past infancy.
Who would?
[Muse food remaining: 0! SUBMIT A PROMPT! ASK A QUESTION!]
Trilogy progress, book 1, part 3
60K! It’s done!
The PDF will be winging its way to my Beta-readers as soon as I’ve got it ready.
Stand by…