Let's Read The Remnants: jesus christ what the fuck

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Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

CHAPTER 21

"MAKE YOUR LAST PRAYER A SHORT ONE."

Stop Tamara.

Mo'Steel heard the command and was leaping toward the Marine sergeant before he had time to wonder who was talking in his head. Leaping like a highly caffeinated gazelle and landing eight feet from where he took off. Mo'Steel blinked in surprise.

How?

Tamara was right in front of him.

Mo'Steel twisted ninety degrees and aimed his right heel at her throat. She shifted back, inviting him to knock himself over with his momentum.

Not a chance. He bounced forward onto his right foot, twisted to the left, and landed a solid kick to her chest. He was a ninja warrior. He was a freaking Crouching Dragon.

"Mo! Don't be stupid!" Jobs yelled.

Tamara came at him, her fists a blur.

Mo'Steel kicked off, back flipped, and landed with his fists at the ready. How? He'd never studied martial arts. He wasn't even much of a fighter Sure, he'd fight to defend himself or protect a friend. But that hadn't been necessary too often. He wasn't small enough to be bully bait. And, in general, people liked him.

He certainly had no desire to fight Tamara Hoyle. She was a trained Marine, not to mention possessed by an alien capable of turning her into a killing machine.

Tamara came forward swinging.

Mo'Steel held his hands out like a traffic cop, stopping her volley of punches with his palms. Thwack, thwack. Thwackthwackthwack. Her hands moved faster than he could see and yet somehow he anticipated her actions. He was superhuman. Like Billy.

That was it.

Billy.

Billy was whispering in his brain. Billy was moving his muscles. Mo'Steel felt a rush of resentment, a repulsion. He was no one's puppet! Billy couldn't pull his strings the way the Shipwright pulled Tamara's.

But that was stupid. Billy was a friend. He'd saved Mo'Steel's life, saved his mother's life. If he needed Mo'Steel to hold off Tamara, then, well, Mo'Steel just hoped he didn't get killed in the process.

Mo'Steel breathed deeply, opened himself up, and felt a surge of power like nothing he had ever imagined. Billy's whisper turned into a shout.

Tamara's fists were still moving. And, in the middle of that, Mo'Steel was still able to turn his head and watch as the Shipwright moved down a hallway and slipped through a door Billy looked at Mo'Steel for a long moment and then followed the Shipwright.

"Mo!" Jobs yelled. "I�m going after Billy."

"Cool," Mo'Steel said, keeping his eyes on Tamara. "I got this under control."

Tamara spun away from him. When she spun back, she was holding a weapon. A short, featureless tube. She took aim and squeezed a trigger

Fl�chettes!

They zoomed toward Mo'Steel � a thousand pieces of razor-sharp metal flying toward his face, his body. Mo'Steel leaned way, way back, limboing, bending from his ankles, and watched the fl�chettes pass overhead like a swarm of irate wasps. When the firing stopped, Mo'Steel stood up again, amazed, feeling like Gumby.

"Aaaaahhhh!" Mo'Steel yelled, an expression of joy.

A flash of movement behind a door. Tate, taking shelter.

Tamara threw down the fl�chette gun. She pulled a spear from the Rider bandolier she wore across her chest and charged. Down a hallway! Mo'Steel ran faster than he'd ever run before. Yet he could hear Tamara's level breathing behind him.

Closer, closer.

Mo'Steel yanked open a door, dashed inside. Tamara was right behind him. Mo'Steel glanced around, getting his bearings, searching for a weapon. Rows of shelves lined with pint-size containers made of something like glass. Tables. Gleaming robotic equipment. The smell of rotting fish.

A laboratory?

Mo'Steel wedged himself between one of the shelves and the wall. She moved in front of the shelves, jabbing at Mo'Steel between the rows of glasslike containers. What was with the jars? They contained liquids of different colors. Murky shapes.
Something that looked like a Rider's insect eye. No time to worry about that now.

"Timber," Mo'Steel whispered to himself.

He pushed.

The shelf tilted toward Tamara, the glasslike containers rocking, and then crashed over. Hundreds of containers shattered. Something like acid sizzled. Unidentifiable lumps of something slithered out onto the floor. An unbearable reek of something foul and rotten filled the air.

Mo'Steel gagged, ran.

The shelf rose up and crashed over the other way.

Tamara jumped up, looking incredibly ticked off, still holding her spear.

Mo'Steel backed up, fighting for air.

Tamara leaped at him. She was inches from landing on his shoulders when he crouched, did a back somersault, came to his feet, let out a whoop of delight, stepped forward, stuck his foot out, and tripped Tamara. She fell forward, hitting her head on the edge of a counter with an audible thunk. Tamara slid to the floor, eyes closed, dazed. Her knees crumpled under her.

"I think she's out," Tate said quietly. She was standing in the doorway, covering her nose and mouth with her hand.

Mo'Steel nodded, turned for a second to smile at Tate.

Tamara pounced. She grabbed Mo'Steel's head in two strong hands and smiled down at him.

"Make your last prayer a short one," she said. "One good twist and you're gone."

"No!" Tate yelled.

Mo'Steel saw a shadow of uncertainty pass across Tamara's face. Her grip faltered and he rolled free.

Tate took a gingerly step toward Tamara. "You can fight the Shipwright's control," she whispered.

Tamara reached a hand out to Tate.

Tate stepped forward to take it.

And then Tate flew backward and slammed into a wall. "Don't you ever shut up?" Tamara asked.

I hope Tate is okay, Mo here is living his best life channeling the Matrix.

quote:

CHAPTER 22

"THAT BIG STARFISH IS SCARED OF YOU."

With a small part of his mind, Billy powered Mo'Steel. Fed him energy to fight. Fueled his muscles. Heightened his senses.
Meanwhile, his body followed the Shipwright through a vast maze. Room after room. Each one different. Billy amused himself by guessing at their functions: laboratory, theater, kitchen. Did the Shipwrights eat even though they didn't have mouths? Or had they evolved beyond the need for food?

The Shipwright moved purposefully, swiftly through the rooms. The alien made no sign that it was aware of Billy's presence or bothered by him.

Billy wondered why the alien was in such a hurry. He reached out for the Shipwright's brain. For a moment, he was lost, probing in the darkness.

Then �

His mind connected with the alien consciousness.

The Shipwright's brain was shaped like a skinny star, radiating out from a center point into the alien's limbs and head. The tissue wasn't gray like a human brain. No, it was a beautiful, glittering pink, like fiber-optic cable. Impulses moved along its extensive, straight pathways a thousand times faster than any human had ever thought.

But Billy could follow the movements. Could sense the Shipwright's mood. Something like �

Impatience.

Uncertainty.

Not exactly the same as human emotions, but close enough. Recognizable. The Shipwright didn't want to spend time dealing with Billy. The fight between Tamara and Mo'Steel was already enough of a distraction.

The Shipwright, startled, turned swiftly toward Billy. The alien had sensed his probing.

"Don't make me destroy you," the Shipwright said.

Billy made no reply. The emotions were coming in faster, clearer now.

Worry.

Hesitation.

Fear.

The Shipwright was afraid of him. Billy didn't know why, couldn't guess how he could harm the Shipwright. He only knew that he could.

They reached a door that dwarfed the others they had passed.

"Do not follow me," the Shipwright warned.

The Shipwright opened the immense door and stepped into the room beyond.

Billy followed. He found himself in a massive open space. The room was octagonal. Dozens of the strangely proportioned, padded Shipwright chairs lined the walls. The chairs were a kind of computer interface. Billy had sat in one to communicate with Mother The Shipwright was moving down the row of chairs, pausing to place a hand on each seat before moving on.

The ceiling was a giant screen that showed the space they were passing through. Stars glittered in the distance. Smaller screens seemed to be showing the environments below them. Billy could see the ruins of the battlefield. A few Meanies and the Riders fought on. The bridge.

Billy moved toward one of the chairs. This was his opportunity to connect with Mother, to gain control of the ship for his friends. But before he could sit down, the Shipwright materialized in front of him. Anger radiated from it. Anger and something else.

Fear.

They stared at each other silently.

Jobs ran through the door. Stopped when he saw them.

Billy felt the air go out of his lungs. He was knocked backward like a rag doll, even though nothing had touched him. The Shipwright had attacked. Not with his stumpy arms. With his mind.

Violet's stomach was twisted with worry. The pain got worse with every second that ticked by.

What would happen if Jobs, Mo'Steel, and the others never came back? How long should they wait? Where would they go?

Anamull and Kubrick were standing guard, reminding Violet of little boys playing cowboys and Indians. What could they do against an army of aliens? Edward inched as close to the older boys as he dared, clearly longing to get into the game. D-Caf and Yago were huddled together, discussing who knew what. Yago seemed to be doing most of the talking. Burroway and T.R. had separated themselves somewhat from the rest of the group. 2Face's attention was focused on the endless bloody battle, perhaps trying to gauge who would win. Noyze, Dr. Cohen, and Olga were turned the other way � watching the top of the pyramid and waiting for Mo'Steel and the others to return.

"Rider!" Edward yelled.

The Rider was alone, but there was no mistaking his attentions. He was pushing his hoverboard to top speed, and his spear was pointing at them.

"But we're supposed to be on their side," Burroway complained. "Tamara said we'd be safe as long as we stayed out of the way."

"Yeah, well, Tamara isn't here," Kubrick said. "Get back."

Violet scrambled to her feet and pulled Edward back. He twisted impatiently under her touch.

The Rider let out a high-pitched war cry that made Violet shudder.

Anamull laughed, mounted his board, and raced out to meet the Rider. Kubrick briefly glanced at 2Face and then followed.

Violet wanted to tell Edward not to look. He had seen enough pain, suffering, and death for a little boy. But Violet knew Edward would resent being treated like a kid. Instead, she lowered her own gaze and fought the urge to plug her ears. She didn't want to
see any more of the Remnants killed.

Tate opened her eyes and stared senselessly at the edge of a table. She felt herself breathe in, breathe out. Her chest hurt. Her back hurt. Her head hurt. Where was she?

A grunt somewhere close by.

Tate shifted slightly and watched unbelievingly as Mo'Steel ran straight up a wall and hopped onto the top of a huge machine. He crouched there, throwing some sort of tools down at Tamara, waiting for her to follow him. Tamara began scaling the machine like a rock climber

Feeling totally defeated, Tate closed her eyes again.

For a long, long moment Billy lay motionless on the ground.

Jobs, sick at heart, weak-kneed, keeping one eye on the Shipwright, staggered to his friend's side. "Billy? Billy, can you hear me?"

Billy lifted his head and gazed sadly at Jobs. He looked like a scared, sick, skinny orphan. Then, without moving, without touching Billy, the Shipwright attacked again. Billy clutched at his own throat, struggling for air. Struggling � and losing.
Jobs watched, helpless, as Billy's face turned a brilliant red and then shaded toward blue-gray. His eyes, protruding strangely out of his skull, focused on Jobs with a silent plea.

"Stop it!" Jobs yelled. "Stop it! You'll kill him!"

The Shipwright was already turning away, moving back toward the chairs. Jobs was invisible to the alien. Unimportant. So why had the Shipwright taken the energy to kill Billy?

Tate had to be right. Billy was important to the Shipwright. Dangerous, even.

Jobs turned back to Billy. "Fight him!" he sobbed desperately. "That big starfish is scared of you. Can't you feel it?"

Billy closed his eyes.

Jobs could hear his own heart beating.

Beat, beat, beat, beat.

Billy took a sudden breath. A deep, shuddering breath that shook his entire body. He sat up. And now the Shipwright was clutching its milky head with two four-fingered hands.

"That's it," Jobs whispered, backing away. "Fight it. You can do it."

The Shipwright seemed to break free of Billy's psychic grip. Slowly, Billy got to his feet and the two approached each other Jobs watched as they circled, each taking the measure of his opponent.

"Humans," the Maker said. "Te has called you tenacious. But there is a better word in your primitive language. Suicidal. Only a creature that wished to die would challenge a Maker on its own ship, in a world it helped create."

Billy said nothing. Just kept circling.

Three feet from Jobs was a plasma screen, or the Shipwright's version of a plasma screen. Along the edges were rows of the omnipresent geometric shapes � a miniature version of the frieze on the pyramid. A keyboard. Or something close to it.
Keeping one eye on Billy and the Shipwright, Jobs eased closer to the keyboard. The Shipwright didn't react. It was still taunting Billy.

"Even if you destroy me, what do you hope to accomplish, human?" the Shipwright asked. "You will never control Mother. Mother is in collapse. Only I can save her. Only I can save this ship."

Jobs smiled to himself. The Shipwright sounded awfully sure of itself, but Jobs had a feeling it was bluffing. If Billy could buy him enough time, he could hack into Mother. Jobs took another step forward and ran his fingers lightly over the keyboard. All he needed was a little time.

things are heating up here, but I also wonder what the next crisis will be. If the shipwright is defeated here and Jobs takes control of the ship, what other horrors will they discover?

# ? May 15, 2024 01:04

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# ? May 31, 2024 11:25

Mazerunner: Apr 22, 2010; Good Hunter, what... what is this post?

It does feel like it could be building up to a series finale yeah, though we're still a few books out right?

# ? May 16, 2024 03:36

Jim the Nickel: Mar 2, 2006; friendship is magic
in a pony paradise
don't you judge me

From Wikipedia:

The Mayflower Project (July 2001)
Destination Unknown (September 2001)
Them (November 2001)
Nowhere Land (January 2002)
Mutation (March 2002)
Breakdown (May 2002)
Isolation (July 2002) <--------------------- we are here
Mother, May I? (September 2002)
No Place Like Home (November 2002)
Lost and Found (January 2003)
Dream Storm (March 2003)
Aftermath (May 2003)
Survival (July 2003)
Begin Again (September 2003)

I thiiiiink I've read to No Place Like Home? There's still plenty of wild poo poo to come.

# ? May 16, 2024 20:20

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

CHAPTER 23

"JUST A LITTLE MORE TIME."

Insanity.

Schizophrenia.

Billy's mind was in two places at once. Helping Mo'Steel fight Tamara. Keeping the Shipwright from killing him.

He was playing two deadly chess games at once. If his concentration on Mo'Steel faltered, his friend would die. If he gave Mo'Steel too much attention, he would die himself and that, too, would equal Mo'Steel's death. So he helped Mo'Steel anticipate a rapid sequence of kicks from Tamara. And, at the same time, he followed the Shipwright � Te � onto a battlefield that existed only in an infinite, unreal dream-space where their two minds had agreed to meet. Flat black ground and white sky. A bare canvas that could become anything they had the strength to imagine.

Billy and Te were without weapons.

They would fight only with the power of their minds.

They stood facing each other. Billy's battered sneakers toe-to-toe with the Shipwright's naked birdlike feet.

Billy felt a sudden crippling pain in his feet, his calves. A pain so Intense he cried out, nearly wet his pants. He looked down and saw pea-green worms burrowing through his flesh.

No!

This wasn't real.

Billy feverishly told himself he wasn't really in this dream-space. The pain was only as real as he allowed it to be. He forced himself to ignore the agony, to imagine his legs whole and healthy. He willed the worms to disappear. Then he turned his torment into energy. He shot a lightning bolt out of his finger, nailing Te in his chest.

The Shipwright staggered backward, transparent skin glowing from the intense burst of electricity.

A pause. Billy breathed deeply. Rested. Sent another surge of energy to Mo'Steel.

Another mind swarmed into his consciousness. A vision of Jobs floated up into the dream-space. Jobs hunched over one of Mother's tactical interfaces, his mind buzzing with excitement. No time for Jobs.

Concentrate. Concentrate on his two opponents, Tamara and Te. Concentrate on �

Something falling from the sky! Something metallic and covered in glittering points. A bomb! It hit just in front of Billy and exploded. He was airborne, flying backward, feeling the shards of metal. He landed hard. For a moment � searing pain in his shoulder, his legs.

Then Billy laughed it off.

That was the best bomb the Shipwrights had created? When it came to destruction, humans were far more advanced. He dug into the history of Earth and brought an image into his mind. An ancient image, from a war that had ended more than sixty years before Billy was born.

The Shipwright looked up and saw what seemed to be a primitive bomb falling toward it.

The alien instantly surrounded itself by what looked like a protective bubble made of a translucent goo.

A blinding flash!

Dead silence. Then �

BOOM!

The Shipwright and its bubble were obliterated by a fireball rising and churning within itself. The fireball gave rise to a mushroom cloud that towered tens of thousands of feet into the air.

A series of shock waves knocked Billy to his feet. But only seconds passed before the Shipwright came crawling away from the fire. It was weak, its see-through skin marred by soot.

Attack! Attack! Billy told himself.

But Billy was distracted by Mo'Steel. Overwhelmed by the vivid image of Mo'Steel leaping across a body of water. Leaping so far he was almost airborne. Tamara was right behind him. Billy helped Mo'Steel change directions in midair, flipping over Tamara so that she became the hunted and Mo'Steel the hunter.

Billy imagined a steel box. A small steel box with the Shipwright stuffed inside. But Te was fighting him. Te's star-shaped mind was racing.

Excitement.

Billy turned, stared.

An old woman was wandering across the empty dream-space. She was hunched over, feeble. Billy felt his heart miss as she moved closer. Could she be a weapon? Should he destroy her?

Yes! Only �

What kind of weapon was this?

The woman had a human head. A head that greatly resembled his adoptive mother, Jessica. She was wearing a warm-up suit. But the arms and legs were too short. The four-fingered hands and birdlike feet of a Shipwright poked out of the arms and legs.
She wasn't a weapon.

She was an embodiment of Mother.

Billy knew it.

And he knew the Maker knew it.

Jobs jumped back. The keyboard he'd been tapping had suddenly lit up and was glowing with a soft red light. The plasma screen in front of him whirled and hummed as it came to life. Jobs glanced nervously over his shoulder. Had the Shipwright noticed? No. No, the Shipwright and Billy stood silently, still as stone. Only Billy's eyes moved, jerking rapidly beneath his closed lids.
"Just a little more time," Jobs muttered to himself.

I love a good mindscape battle. This is no Legion style dance battle, but it's still good.

quote:

CHAPTER 24

"NO FALSE MOVES."

The Shipwright was on its birdlike feet, racing toward Mother.

Billy blinked, understood what was happening, and began to run after Te. This may have been only an embodiment of Mother, but it was a way to control her. She was offering herself up. The only question was: To whom?

Te was closing in, quickly drawing closer to the little old woman who represented the humans' best chance for survival. Billy pushed his muscles as hard as he could, but Te was faster, much faster Perhaps that was because Mother was helping it, because Mother wanted Te to win.

Then, suddenly, Billy ran into something, something very solid. He stepped back, clutching his nose. He looked up � way up � at a stone wall. The wall was very high and seemed to stretch from horizon to horizon.

Te was on the other side.

So was Mother

Billy stretched his arms out and pressed his body against the wall.

He'd lost.

"A firewall," Jobs muttered angrily.

Of course, that wasn't it exactly. The block Mother had created was far more elaborate, subtle, and sophisticated than anything the most creative programmer on Earth had ever dreamed into being.

Jobs had to erase it.

He had to get rid of the block before the Shipwright killed Billy.

Jobs's hands were shaking; his body was slick with cold sweat. He was breathing in shallow gasps. He closed his eyes and tried to take a deep breath. Nothing doing. His chest was in a vise grip screwed down tight. One false move and Mother would lock him out of the system forever One miss and what remained of humanity would live out their lives as slaves of the Shipwrights or worse.

"Okay, then," Jobs muttered to himself. "No false moves." His fingers began to move over the keyboard.

Creaking.

Groaning.

A shudder moved through the wall.

Billy stepped back, looked up. A crack was growing in the massive fortress. Far, far overhead a stone the size of a dump truck wiggled loose and began to fall a thousand feet from the top of the wall.

"Ahhhh!" Billy called out.

He ran, stumbling in his panic. The stone hit the ground with a tremendous Impact. Billy fell, scrambled to his feet, ran again. Another stone hit and knocked him down.

Billy glanced backward and gasped when he saw that the stones weren't falling randomly. They were forming a crude stairway with each step nearly as tall as Billy. He changed direction, crossed the distance to the first stone, put his hands on top, and pulled himself up. Then the next stone. Billy kept going, climbing five or six stories, until he could see over the partially crumbled wall.

The old woman � Mother � stood in the middle of the vast white plain. The Shipwright was grabbing at her, trying to force her down onto the ground. She struggled, crying out, beating the alien off with weak slaps and kicks. There was no way down. No staircase led to the other side of the wall. Billy was trapped on the edge, seventy feet in the air. Stretching his hands out toward Mother, he let out a scream of frustration that echoed back at him. He had to stop the Shipwright, Even if it meant his own death. Even if it meant Mo'Steel's. Tears flowing, Billy expanded his mind. He let go of Mo'Steel. He let go of Jobs. He reached out for
Mother with every fiber, forgetting everything else. Mother cried out, her own scream an exact duplicate of Billy's. The old woman dissolved into a whirlwind that slipped through the Shipwright's grasp. Spinning furiously toward Billy, moving with blinding speed, the whirlwind crossed the dream-scape and disappeared into Billy's screaming mouth.

Billy shuddered violently. Foam formed in the corners of his mouth. Jobs turned from the keyboard, his attention split between the computer and his friend. Should he keep working? Or could he do something to help Billy?

Jobs didn't dare leave the computer. Billy seemed to be losing his battle. Jobs was worried he might have only a few more seconds to hack into Mother.

"Billy!" Jobs yelled. "Are you okay?"

"Yes." Billy spoke without moving, making Jobs wonder if he was hearing things. Jobs looked down at his shaking hands. The keyboard's red glow had been replaced by a blue one. Jobs wasn't sure what the change meant, but he knew it was major.
The dream-scape disappeared. Billy was aware of himself standing sneaker-to-feet with the Shipwright on the bridge. The alien looked exactly the same, but its mind felt different. Its fear was so strong Billy could taste it.

Fear of Billy.

Fear of failing his people.

Fear of death.

"You are not human," the Shipwright said.

Billy could sense Jobs's thoughts bubbling up: interest, curiosity, repulsion. His fingers rested on the alien keyboard, but he was concentrating on Billy and the Shipwright.

"I am human," Billy said.

A memory flashed in his mind. For an instant, it was vivid and powerful. Then it receded into the mists, leaving Billy with only shadowy images. Shapes surrounding him. A field of energy pulsating.

What did the memory mean?

Billy shook it off. It meant nothing! It was nothing but a remembered hallucination.

But why was it so vague?

Billy's memories were always clear. Even the things that hadn't happened to him were clear. He could remember the cloying smell of fresh soil in the hole where Yago had spent a terrifying night. The wet sound of Kubrick's skin separating from his muscle. Billy could see these and a billion more vivid details. So why was this one memory so fuzzy?

"Something is happening to the Shipwright!"

Jobs. Sounding amazed and terrified.

Yes. The racing pulses of its brain were slowing. Even the taste of its fear was fading.

"The ancient enemy," the Shipwright said. Then the pulses stopped. The taste disappeared. Billy's knees gave out. Exhaustion hit him like a hammer to the skull. He sat down hard with barely the energy to breathe, to keep his heart beating.

Jobs appeared at his side. "Is it gone?"

Billy nodded, depressed by his victory. Yes, the Shipwright whose ancestors had created this ship was gone. The humans had prevailed over their environment once again.

"Can you get up?" Jobs asked.

Billy did a mental check and found strength pouring into his muscles, his bloodstream, his cells.

He stood up.

quote:

CHAPTER 25

"JUST NAPPING."

"Kick!" Mo'Steel commanded his legs.

The only response was a feeble twitch. The strange, wonderful, superhuman power had drained out of him. Mo'Steel felt its loss desperately. No more incredible leaps. No more clinging to the walls.

And besides, now it was all over,

Tamara towered over him. Then, suddenly, her eyes rolled back in her head and she slumped forward, landing half on top of him.
Was she dead?

Excited, scared, disgusted, Mo'Steel used the last of his energy to push her off him. She was still alive. Her eyelids fluttered. Tate came running. She looked into Mo'Steel's eyes, then bent to examine Tamara.

"Her pulse is faint," Tate said, her brow wrinkled with worry. "Are you okay?"

"Tired," Mo'Steel said. "Thirsty."

Tate reached over and gave him an impulsive hug. "I'm so glad you're alive! Both of you. I thought..."

"Yeah," Mo'Steel said. "Me, too."

Billy and Jobs emerged from one of the rooms. They came down the hallway toward the others. Mo'Steel thought Billy looked different. Bigger almost. More powerful. Jobs followed half a step behind him.

Mo'Steel pulled himself to his knees. Tate helped him to his feet. He felt as if he had just powered through three back-to-back quadathlons. Every muscle, every joint, every bone ached.

"Mo!" Jobs yelled. "You don't look too good."

"You should see the other guy," Mo'Steel mumbled.

Jobs eyed Tamara. "Is she dead?"

Mo'Steel shook his head, making himself see stars. "Nah. Just napping. What happened to the Shipwright?"

Jobs glanced at Billy. "They had a fight"

"And?" Tate demanded.

"Billy won," Jobs said.

Billy met Tate's gaze. "Tamara is free."

Tate swallowed hard and nodded numbly, tears in her eyes.

"I need to go downstairs," Billy said. He started toward the elevator

"I'll stay here with Tamara," Tate said.

Mo'Steel nodded, fell into step next to Jobs. The three boys stepped onto one platform. The platform glowed with life and they began to descend slowly.

"Nice ride," Mo'Steel said, smiling at Billy. "Smooth."

Jobs grinned, too. "Yeah, I don't even feel like puking. Of course, my stomach is empty from the ride up."

The corners of Billy's mouth twitched upward, but his gaze was distant. Mo'Steel felt suddenly uneasy about what was going to happen when they reached the environment. The fact that Billy looked so gloomy couldn't be a good sign. Billy had beaten the Shipwright. They should be celebrating.

"Hey, 'migo, you okay?" Mo'Steel asked Billy.

Billy studied him for a moment before speaking. "Mo, do you think I'm human?"

Mo'Steel barked out a nervous laugh. Shot a worried look at Jobs. "Sure you're human," he said. "What else would you be?"

"I � I don't know."

The platform came to a rest. The boys stepped off.

"Romeo!" Olga shouted.

Mo'Steel went to his mother, gave her a hug. Violet, 2Face, and Edward surrounded Jobs. He told them about the Shipwright. The babble of voices rose as the others questioned Jobs, tried to figure out what this latest development meant for them.

"What happened to you?" Olga demanded urgently. "You're shaking. Your clothes are soaked. Are you okay?"

"Fine," Mo'Steel said. And, actually, he was starting to feel better. Still thirsty, though. "Everyone here okay?"

"A Rider attacked us," Olga reported shakily. "Anamull is wounded. A stab wound on his leg. Nothing serious. All of the rest of us are fine. I guess."

Mo'Steel looked out onto the battlefield. Amazingly, sadly, the battle still raged. The Meanies had apparently regrouped and renewed their attack after the Shipwright disappeared. The Riders still shouted their piercing war cry, but now they sounded hoarse and weary. Their hoverboards moved over the bodies of their enemies and their Clansmen as they continued to throw spears and boomerangs skyward.

Billy climbed the steps of the pyramid. While the others stared up at him in disbelief, Billy faced the battlefield and raised his arms in the air.

"Stop this!" he yelled.

"We have to stop him," Olga said urgently. "They'll kill him. Billy, get down!"

Mo'Steel held his mother back. "Wait. I think it's okay."

In a way, Mo'Steel was right. None of the Meanies or Riders attacked Billy. But they also didn't stop fighting. Billy drew his arms to his chest and closed his eyes.

The Rider environment vanished. The hills, the coppery ocean, the strange spastic trees, the pink sky all disappeared. In their place appeared two towering stone walls. The pyramid, the battlefield, the Meanies, the Riders, and the humans were all contained within the space between the two walls.

That got the Riders' and the Meanies' attention.

Meanies circled without firing. Riders' weapons dropped at their sides as they turned to stare at Billy. Mo'Steel, Olga, and the other Remnants stared, too. Billy stood on the top of the pyramid. He held his arms wide, holding up the walls with the strength of his mind. The threat was unspoken but clear. Time to listen or get splattered.

"Enough fighting," Billy commanded.

With that, the battle ended.

The Riders dropped their boomerangs and spears. They rode their hoverboards in confused circles, gradually coalescing in a worried little knot. Withdrawing their cutting wings, the Blue Meanies landed together in a small huddle, tentacles waving furiously.

The humans, too, drew together

Mo'Steel tore his eyes from Billy to study the faces around him. Noyze and Dr Cohen were exchanging brilliant smiles of pure relief. Violet and Jobs stood together, their fingers barely touching, eyes wide, jaws slack. Awed. Kubrick looked disappointed. No doubt he hated to see a good fight end.

2Face glanced toward Mo'Steel. Her dark eyes were cold with something very much like hatred.

* * *

This was not the Path.

Yago was destined to destroy Tamara. He and his loyal supporters. Not Billy. Not a freak.

Yago could not stand it. He could not have others competing with him.

He was the One.

The only One.

Billy would have to be destroyed.

And that's the end of the book. Yeah as Jim posted above, we're at the halfway point. Looks like Yago is gonna be a problem again, so that'll be something to look forward to, but what's up with 2Face? Nice to see Jobs and Violet realizing they're the opposites attract couple.

# ? May 17, 2024 01:11

Edna Mode: Sep 24, 2005; Bullshit, that's last year's Fall collection!

I think I liked this one the best so far. The action sequences were pretty cool and it was nice to see the characters actually take a more active role instead of just trying to not die.

# ? May 17, 2024 02:05

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

goddamn, i let this fall to page 2 of my bookmarks. Good news: We start book 8 today, we are officially on the other side of the halfway point! That's wild because it seems like we hit an ending point last book and should be in the epilogue. What horrors and wonders await our survivors? Who can say!?!

Bad news, I am on vacation until June 9th, and while I'm not going anywhere, except for local stuff, it means I lack a schedule and posting these updates do better with a schedule. Plus, since my favorite bar closed down a few months back, I don't even have a place where I can go get lunch and post. I'll do my best to get these updates regular again!

quote:

REMNANTS #8

MOTHER, MAY I

Prologue

2Face felt numb. Almost.

Tate and Tamara hadn't come down from the bridge. She'd heard Jobs say that they were alive, injured, jut resting before joining the others.

Whatever.

Everyone else was gathered. Olga Gonzalez and Mo'Steel, her son. Jobs and his little brother, Edward. Violet. Dr Cohen and Noyze. A phony, spaced-out Yago. D-Caf. A wounded Anamull. Roger Dodger. Kubrick. Burroway and T.R.

And Billy.

Something unbelievable had happened up on the bridge. Billy had defeated the psycho Baby/Shipwright/Maker

Billy was the man of the moment. Their hero.

2Face felt the blood rise to her cheeks. Not numb anymore.

Spreading out from the base of the pyramidlike elevator, the fierce battle between the Riders and the Blue Meanies still raged. The Squids, Mother's backup defense team, had been pretty much decimated by the Meanies. 2Face watched the fighting. Billy might have destroyed the Baby/Shipwright/Maker, but was he powerful enough to stop the war?

"What's he doing?" Violet, from behind her.

2Face whirled. Billy was climbing the steps of the pyramid. 2Face watched in disbelief When he got to the top, he raised his arms and shouted:"Enough fighting!"

"We have to stop him!" Olga cried. "They'll kill him. Billy, get down!"

"Leave him alone,"2Face muttered.

Olga started to go after Billy. Mo'Steel stopped her.

"Wait," he said quietly. "I think it's okay."

Billy drew his arms to his chest and closed his eyes.

Just like that the Rider environment vanished.

2Face blinked. The hills, the copper-colored water, the weird trembling trees, the pink sky. It all just � gone. In its place were two towering walls. Impossible. But, 2Face knew, all too real. Everything and everyone, from humans to Riders to Meanies were contained within the space defined by the massive walls. The fighting stopped, just came to a dead halt

'"We're all going to have to figure this out!" Billy shouted.

Riders, Meanies, and humans drew closer to the base of the pyramid. 2Face felt someone's eyes on her. She turned. Mo'Steel. She stared at him, aware of the coldness in her own eyes.

Mo'Steel slowly averted his eyes.

2Face stayed where she was and let the others move in closer to Billy. Billy, who'd usurped all power. Billy who�d staged a coup.
Only Yago stayed behind the crowd. He seemed oblivious to 2Face, to everyone. He stared up at Billy but 2Face saw that his eyes were unfocused. Yago and Billy, self-proclaimed rulers. If 2Face knew anything, she knew they hadn't heard the last of Yago's ambition to preside over Earth's few survivors.

Okay. Fine. So she'd find a way to deal with both of them. Strategically.

2Face was a self-preservationist of the highest order. She wasn't ashamed to admit that. And the best way to survive was to be the one who set down the guidelines for survival.

The real battle had just begun.

No, 2Face, no! Not like this, you're gonna end up teaming up with Yago and doing horrible stuff, I bet.

quote:

CHAPTER 1

"YOU KNOW IT'S GOING TO CAUSE TROUBLE, RIGHT?"

Three Months Later.

Jobs was big.

This was helpful when you were on a quest through the immensity of space. It was also helpful to be able to travel at exhilarating speeds and unimagined velocities. He was larger than the vast and various planets he passed. He could put his hand on a star, then right through it. He could peer closely at canyonlike craters and mile-high mountains and ten-mile-deep fissures as if he were the lens of a microscope and they were no larger than samples on a slide.

Worlds were his to examine, to evaluate, to own. Jobs collected solar systems like some people collected seashells. He noted one system's double sun, another system's huge gas-giant planets. He smiled at another's tiny moon.

Up here, out here with the stars and planets and asteroids, Jobs sometimes felt like Gulliver from that old book written by a guy named Swift. Gulliver's Travels. In one place he'd gone, Gulliver found himself considered a giant in comparison to the local population who were about the size of his finger.

It was all about perspective in the end. Jobs knew he wasn't really as vast as a galaxy or as large as a solar system. But for the moment it seemed that he was. And that was all that mattered. It was disturbing and it was wonderful.

Most of all, it was necessary. Because Jobs was determined to find a planet on which he and the other Remnants could settle. Life aboard Mother, though better since Billy had taken control, was not a long-term solution as far as Jobs was concerned.
And now he thought he might have found that habitable planet � and it seemed to be something he'd never dreamed he would find. He could go back there now, check it out. And part of him was relieved that Mo'Steel had come along this time for the ride.

"This is some kind of cool." Mo'Steel laughed as he jumped over a reddish medium-sized planet. "I am the monster-giant ruler of the universe! But virtual thrills are still just virtual, you know? Almost, but not quite. Can't feel it in my skin."

"Come on, man," Jobs said. He knew he sounded testy. "This is serious."

"Duck, you know you've been, uh, working, nonstop for, like, weeks. Maybe it's time for a little R and R_ Lay back, relax, recharge the batteries."

"Can't."

"You know how many systems there are out here? A lot."

"A lot? Very precise, Mo."

"Ha-ha, 'migo. You know how long it takes you to decide if there's a livable planet in a given system? You want me to do the math for you?"

"I'm learning as I go," Jobs said. "I'm learning about what to look for."

And I think I've found it, Jobs said to himself. The question now: Was he ready to tell anyone what he'd seen?

The answer: Yes.

"Mo, you want to see something?"

"Sure. Is it awesomely amazing?"

"You tell me."

Jobs led Mo'Steel to another solar system. The journey took all of a second. There was a big yellow star. There were eight planets. There was a spread of gas-giant planets, with the solid planets closer in.

This was the place.

"Why is everything so ... I don't know... fuzzy?" Mo'Steel asked.

"I know. Poor visual resolution. This is the extreme limit of Mother's sensors," Jobs said. "It's the best picture she can get, basically. You have to see this. Look."

Jobs moved them closer to one of the planets.

It was a lumpish mess. It looked as if a larger planet had smashed into a smaller planet and both had been welded together in such a way as to preserve something of the two identities. Small bodies of water were visible on the larger chunk, as well as a thin atmosphere and what looked to Jobs like some small, green areas.

The smaller chunk also had a thin atmosphere but no water or possible growth that Jobs could detect. Overall it was gray and pink and pockmarked with innumerable craters. Jobs didn't say anything else. He waited for Mo'Steel to see it.

"Uh. Okay. Right. When did you find this?" Mo'Steel's voice was hushed.

"Last week. I didn't know what to do about it. Still don't." Jobs looked at his friend. "You know what this looks like, right?"

Oh, yeah. Like a beat-up Earth with a broken-down Moon smashed into it."

Jobs nodded. "I'm pretty sure it's our solar system. But Where's Mars? That might be Venus over there, and that could be Saturn � you can vaguely see the rings � but Jupiter looks all wrong. It's way too bright. The whole thing, it could be our old solar system or not."

"Does Billy know about this?"

"I don't know," Jobs admitted. "He's been running Mother but he's got limits. He can't watch every subroutine. He can't keep an eye on every one of us all the time. It's enough he's maintaining all the environments. Wouldn't surprise me if that alone has him maxed out."

"I don't know how the little guy does it." Mo'Steel said with feeling.

"Billy's tougher than all of us."

"Yeah, Duck. You're right about that one."

"Let's go back," Jobs said quickly. "I've seen enough for today."

"Evaporate the illusion," Mo'Steel added.

The next moment, Jobs and Mo'Steel were stretched out on side-by-side platforms in the "attic" of the ship called Mother. Their dirty, tattered clothes had been replaced with clean T-shirts, jeans, and sneakers. Mo'Steel wore a bandanna around his head, tied in the back.

"You know it's going to cause trouble, right?" Mo'Steel asked Jobs after a while. But it was more of a rhetorical question.

Jobs nodded anyway.

"You tell the others that maybe you've found Earth, or what's left of it, and people are going to want to go check it out. And that's going to violate the Big Compromise. Very messy."

Jobs didn't respond.

"Of course," Mo'Steel went on, almost too casually, "you could always decide not to tell anyone, just keep it our little secret."

Jobs glanced at his friend but didn't respond.

"Okay," Mo'Steel said. "You obviously don't want to talk about it now. Fair enough."

He grabbed two bottles of Pepsi sitting on a small table at his side and handed one to Jobs. Jobs unscrewed the top, took a slug, swallowed and grimaced. "I still think the flavor is off. Too sweet."

Mo'Steel grinned and looked down, examining his drink. "Well, it's a little too yellowish. Looks like pee."

"Bathroom humor?" Jobs said, trying to hide a smile.

"Yup. Right now, we need something to make us laugh. 'Cause I don't think things are gonna be too funny around here from now on."

Okay, that's a good start!

# ? May 21, 2024 20:33

effervescible: Jun 29, 2012; i will eat your soul

I like the time jump. Constantly running just trying to survive was getting old. Curious to see what else everyone is up to.

# ? May 22, 2024 01:57

dungeon cousin: Nov 26, 2012; woop woop
loop loop

At first I didn't realize there was supposed to be something off with the description of eight planets.

# ? May 22, 2024 03:19

bird food bathtub: Aug 9, 2003; College Slice

dungeon cousin posted:

At first I didn't realize there was supposed to be something off with the description of eight planets.

It's still a planet to me god dammit!

# ? May 22, 2024 03:46

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

Vacation is going lovely as wednesday I tripped and stiff armed my fall, spraining my elbow. I'm happy it was only a sprain and not anything worse, but it threw off all my plans and really hosed with my headspace.

quote:

CHAPTER 2

�I'VE FOUND SOMETHING, VIOLET."

Jobs liked going to Violet's house for two reasons: Violet and the house. Of the two, Violet...... was the more compelling.
In the past few months since Billy had defeated the Baby/Shipwright/Maker, Jobs's relationship with Violet had deepened. He didn't know exactly if they could be considered, technically, boyfriend and girlfriend. It bothered Jobs a little, the haziness, because he liked to define things so he could understand them.

Bottom line was that Jobs and Violet liked to spend time with each other, talking mostly. It was easy and it was somehow exciting at the same time. Because some things had changed since they'd first met.

Violet no longer asked to be called Miss Blake. She was no longer officially a "Jane," though she assured Jobs she still held to certain standards of good behavior and gracious living. She no longer wore old fashioned dresses, either, though she was still by far the most overtly feminine of the Remnants.

Violet also had a way of letting Jobs be himself. That was important considering Jobs could tell that sometimes Violet found his need to understand and explain things a bit annoying. The house � Violet's house � was a whitewashed Greek villa, complete with the kind of red-tiled roof seen throughout the Mediterranean and a veranda with low whitewashed walls and big red clay pots of lemon and olive trees. The villa sat on a rise that overlooked a tiny bright blue sea. The strength and simplicity of the colors � white, red, blue � soothed Jobs, made him feel that things were all right.

From the veranda a white-pebbled path led to a small enclosed garden, in which stood a variety of classical statues carved in white marble. Jobs even recognized a few, though he wasn't sure from where, a class trip to a museum or pictures in a textbook.
Inside the villa, Violet � with Billy's help � had created a collection of some of the world's finest paintings. Jobs recognized a few, even though he didn't necessarily know the titles or the names of the painters. There was the "Mona Lisa" by Leonardo da Vinci and, one of Jobs's favorites, "Chiffres et Constellations," by a Spanish guy named Joan Miro. In all, there were more
than a hundred masterpieces.

Usually, contemplating the works of art made Violet happy. Today, she was far from it. "Art is supposed to be for private enjoyment and public consumption. But I seem to be the only one who wants to look at these paintings. Nobody comes here," Violet said. "Except you. And Noyze. I'm living by myself in a museum."

"Do you miss your mom?" Jobs asked abruptly.

"No. Yes. Sometimes."

Jobs nodded.

"But I get the feeling you didn't come over to talk about art, did you?" Violet said. "Or my mother. What's up?"

"Do you want to go outside?"

"Yeah."

They walked outside and onto the veranda, which looked out over the sparkling blue water "I'm pretty sure I've found something, Violet," Jobs explained. And then he began to tell her that he'd shown his discovery to Mo'Steel, and that Mo'Steel agreed it looked an awful lot like what was left of Earth and the moon.

Violet had no discernible reaction.

"Pretty exciting, huh?" Jobs asked, somewhat weirded out by her indifference.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted. "I don't see what good it does us now to have found � Earth. Or what's left of it. It just sounds very, very sad to me. I'm sorry."

Jobs shook his head. "You don't get it, huh? There's a chance, slim but a chance, that Earth's still habitable. That we could go back and with Billy's help and the ship's resources, maybe, just maybe, the human race could be independent again. Owners and not renters. We could start over and �"

Violet began to laugh but her eyes were sad. "Oh, Jobs, you're crazy! Forget what you saw, or think you saw. You're only going to end up being disappointed."

Jobs ran his hand through his already unruly hair He suddenly remembered his mother calling him Mop-Top. Back on Earth.

Back home.

He had to try to make Violet understand.

"Honestly, Violet," he said, "can you really just let this go? Don't you want to see what might be what's left of Earth, see where it takes us? Can you really just forget about it, just turn away, go on living aboard Mother for the duration? Not knowing if she'll ever decide she doesn't want us here anymore. Never knowing what might have been on Earth."

"I want to stay here" Violet said angrily. "It's safer Smarter. Look, what if the planet is Earth? What then? Maybe it's not habitable. Probably it's not. What if Billy can't fix it all for us? I don't need to lose my home twice in one lifetime."

"But this is not home," Jobs argued.

"It is now. It is because I've chosen it to be and I've accepted its limitations. All of them. No, Jobs. I don't want to leave. I'm not leaving."

"You're just scared."

Violet smiled. "That's what I've been saying."

"But what if � just what if � the planet is Earth and it is habitable and we can rebuild �"

"What? Rebuild what. Jobs? A fabulous civilization, just like that? With a handful of people, some of whom are not the nicest of folks and who can't even agree on what an extra-cheese taco should taste like?"

Jobs sighed. "Just use your imagination, okay? Please?"

Violet looked at Jobs with an expression he could not decipher. Her eyes were cloudy. "Jobs, I miss home so badly," she said, her voice breaking. "I try not to think about the past but I can't help it. I dream about it almost every night. How can I try to go back to something I truly believe is no longer there?"

"But don't you ever wonder, though?" Jobs persisted. "Because maybe something good is still there. Maybe, I don't know, like trees. Maybe some people. It's probably not true, but there could be people alive there."

"People?" Violet laughed harshly and looked away. "No, Jobs. More like descendants of a few wrecked survivors of the greatest catastrophe our world has ever known. What could we possibly have in common with them? They're probably a completely different species now! They might not have a language, or machines, they might not even have the wheel for all we know! God, Jobs, they might not even be breathing oxygen! I'm saying they're not us. The human race as we know it consists of us. That's all."

"Maybe the Missing Eight are there," Jobs said, his voice nearly a whisper.

Violet just stared at him.

"Will you go along If the others choose to?" he said after a moment.

"I'm a captive to the will of the people, Jobs," Violet said. She sounded resigned. "Aren't I?"

"Aren't we all?" Jobs asked wearily.

Oh yeah, we never had the missing 8 resolved. And Violet isn't wrong here. There's no way this handful of survivors can repopulate the human race. Plus going from the relative comfort of life on Mother, as precarious as that is, to a survival life on a ruined planet, even assuming it is habitable, that's bananas.

# ? May 26, 2024 00:34

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

CHAPTER 3

"THE PAIN - IT'S STILL THERE. BUT THE MEMORY IS FADING."

Jobs left Violet's house and went to see Mo'Steel. He found him, outside and in motion. As usual.

The house Mo'Steel shared with his mother was pretty basic. Neither was big into clutter or fancy decoration. Olga Gonzalez had chosen a spare Southwestern theme for the living room and other public parts of the one-story house.

She had a big garden with all sorts of plants and trees and flowers, from cactus plants to ferns, stuff that back on Earth would never have been able to thrive together in the same climate, under both wet and dry, bright and shady conditions. Three bonsai projects, one an already massive juniper, were in the works. Olga said gardening kept her out of trouble. Jobs didn't quite know what she meant by that.

Mo'Steel's room was nothing more than a place to sleep a few hours each night. There was a bed, piles of clothes all over the floor � no dresser, no closet, even � various pieces of protective equipment, such as helmets, goggles, knee and elbow pads, even breast and shoulder plates. There were skates and boards and bikes. And that was pretty much it as far as Mo'Steel's room was concerned.

The thing that distinguished the Gonzalez home from the others was not actually a part of the house. It was next to and circling above and wrapping around and zooming past the house.

It was the Mo'Run.

The Mo'Run was definitely outrageous. It was like architecture by Dr. Seuss. There were tunnels and loops and slides. There was an ever-varying choice of skateboards, state-of-the-art in-line skates, bungee cords, and various forms of toboggans. One day you could be in a cage, whipping around in a 180-degree arc. The next you could be lying on your back, strapped onto a barely-wider-than-you board, shooting down a steep, tight track at such a speed you'd be sent flying up, up to the top of the now-almost-forty-five-degree angle of the track, feet in the lead, blood rushing to your head, and � whoosh! Back the way you'd just come...

Or you could be in charge, testing your skills of balance and coordination and trying your nerves by tightrope walking a continually, randomly waving rail.

It was the grand-high-exalted ruler of roller coasters.

It was the ultimate in thrill-seeking pleasure. It was a supreme vision of an action park. It was Mo'Steel's masterpiece. Ever changing, ever improving, ever expanding to satisfy the need for speed, the desire for challenge. Mo'Steel quit his warm-up routine of stretches and leaps. Sweat matted his longish brown hair and trickled down his face. Mo'Steel shook himself like a wet dog, smiled, and picked up a pair of superior Rollerblades lying on the grass.

Jobs grinned. "You do know that Mo'Run sounds like..."

"Moron? Yeah, real funny. Duck. But the name stays."

Mo'Steel finished adjusting the wheels of his blades and stretched out on the grass, hands under his head. "Something on your mind?"

"How could you tell?" Jobs said wryly.

"Just a hunch," Mo'Steel grinned.

Jobs sat down next to his friend and told him about Violet's reaction to his big news. Mo'Steel wasn't surprised.

"You know how I feel," he said. "Kind of like Violet, like things are good enough now, let's just work on making them better Also, I kind of feel like you do. Like, let's take the big chance, start out new on our own planet. I don't know. I guess I'll just wait and see where the majority vote lands and do what I have to do."

"We're not officially a democracy," Jobs remarked. "But I know what you mean. If the ship goes, we go. Free will has its limits here."

Mo'Steel grinned. "It always does. Duck, always did, even back on good ole Earth."

Mo'Steel jumped up. Jobs followed him to the shed that housed a bunch of spare parts for the Mo'Run. "Anyway, I've been wanting to say I'm glad you and Violet are, you know, hanging out."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Mo'Steel cleared his throat nervously. "I won't ask if you ever think about Cordelia, because I know you do. But � does it get any better?"

Jobs thought about that. "I don't know," he admitted. "The pain � it's still there. But the memory is fading. It's just not all as vivid as it was."

"That's good."

"Is it? It hasn't been that long since �"

"Yeah, since the world fell apart. For us it hasn't been that long, Jobs. For them, they've been gone five hundred years. That's a lot of years."

Jobs smiled ruefully. "I don't know why I always found this funny but... my uncle used to say to me, 'Jobs, have fun while you can because you're dead a long time.'"

"He was so right," Mo'Steel said.

"What about you. Mo'? Is there anyone ... ?"

Mo'Steel laughed. "What do you think?"

"There's Tate. She seems nice."

Mo'Steel raised his eyebrows. "Yeah. She's really cool. But I just don't think she's interested in me that way."

"You think she likes guys more, I don't know, into computers and stuff?"

Mo'Steel shrugged. "I don't know. Just � there's no one. Noyze is a sweet kid but she's a kid. 2Face's personality is just scary. Ditto Tamara, even though that's not her fault. Dr Cohen is old enough to be my mother. And my mother is my mother, so..."

"I see what you mean." Jobs felt bad for bringing up the subject.

"If this were a real Utopia," Mo'Steel said, brightening, "I'd be hanging with �"

"Utopias aren't real," Jobs said cutting Mo'Steel off. It was what bothered him about life on Mother. "They're impossible."

"I'm just saying that if... never mind. I'm just saying that I'm happy for you and Violet and all, but sometimes, man, it'd be nice to have a femme to hang with, you know?"

"Yeah. I guess the cartoons Billy summons up don't really count, huh? Like that red-haired clerk at Foot Locker."

"Yeah. Something about the two-dimensional thing is kinda weird. I don't know."

Mo'Steel focused on choosing and buckling on protective equipment. Jobs and Mo'Steel could joke about the flaws and idiosyncracies of the world they'd created for themselves out of memory, desire, and imagination. But behind the fancy houses and the new clothes there was an emptiness that no amount of computer-generated stuff could fill.

No doubt about it. The Zone � the Remnants' environment � was a strange and sometimes uncomfortable mix of the fantastic and the mundane.

A river wound through The Zone, sometimes raging and whitecapped, sometimes placid and slow, with no relation at all to the weather or the terrain. Verdant hills rose abruptly from desert plains, which bordered improbably on lush coniferous forests. The landscape of The Zone was a weird patchwork of scenes, with a few signs of logical compromise and more signs of individualism and selfishness.

Like Yago's castle.

Jobs thought of the famous cliche: Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And he wasn't beholding any beauty in Yago's increasingly larger structure. Every time Yago added a turret or a tower, Jobs's view of the sunset was further blocked. He'd asked Yago � through his lackey, D-Caf � for a compromise, but Yago wasn't having any of it.

At any rate, Jobs and Edward's house was pretty straightforward. It was divided into two sections, one for each brother For Jobs, there was the lab of his dreams, where he tried to research a variety of topics that interested him. Jobs was most interested in the notion of the existential computer, something that would be considered an inseparable, integral part of the person wearing it.
Other topics interested Jobs, too, topics that related in some way to his quest for a habitable planet. Like the life cycle of star systems.

And dinosaurs. Like the human race, they had been victims of a global catastrophe. Some scientists had thought their extinction was caused by a massive meteorite hitting Earth. Jobs wondered if some species had lingered on for millennia after the destruction of the world as they'd known it. Could that be true, too, for humans? As crazy as it sounded, maybe there had been some survivors of the Rock.

Jobs's bedroom was, by contrast, simple, basically a bed, a desk, and a chair. He'd chosen a blue for the walls and ceiling, a color as close as he could remember to the color of the Pacific Ocean on that day when he'd taken out the Ford Libertad! And driven along the coast and discovered that the world was coming to an end.

Edward's bedroom was a kid's fantasy playroom. There was an entire playground, complete with sandbox, jungle gym, and superslide. There were banks of computer games and old-fashioned pinball machines. There were piles of Frisbees and beach balls and softball equipment. There was an amazing Erector set, bikes, scooters, and even though there was no snow, there was
a Flexible Flyer, just in case Edward's petition for a few wintry days was granted. His bed was in the shape of a race car and the sheets were printed with superheroes.

Edward was Jobs's little brother, only six years old � give or take five hundred years � and Jobs still felt the responsibility of any older brother But in some ways Edward was way beyond Jobs in experience.

He was now the Chameleon, thanks to a mutation that had occurred at some time during the Mayflower's long journey. He could blend into his surroundings in a very disconcerting way. He could be seen and not seen. He could use the habits of the human eye to his advantage.

Lately, Edward had taken to leaving the house and not returning for hours on end. When Jobs asked him where he'd been, Edward always gave the same answer "Searching for clues."

It worried Jobs not to know where Edward was at all times. He felt he owed it to the memory of their parents to keep his little brother safe from harm. But the reality was that Jobs couldn't keep Edward under constant surveillance. Not when Edward himself had become a master spy.

"Uh. Jobs?"

Jobs looked up, startled. "Sorry. Just thinking."

Mo'Steel laughed. "Something you do too much of, 'migo, to the detriment of your physical health. Sure you don't want to try the Mo'Run?

"How is riding that fifteen-story death trap good for my health? But � okay."

# ? May 26, 2024 22:47

bird food bathtub: Aug 9, 2003; College Slice

Things seem to be doing pretty good for them at the moment.

I'm sure this will continue to happen and there will be no jesus christ what the gently caress in the collective thread's future.

# ? May 27, 2024 00:08

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

quote:

CHAPTER 4

"MAYBE WE SHOULD GET OUT OF HERE WHILE WE CAN."

Jobs's visit had gotten to Violet. Maybe it was just one of those gloomy days, the kind given to dark thoughts and bad memories. But she didn't think so.

Now Violet was restless. Her mind wouldn't stop, and her skin felt all twitchy. She walked through room after room of great art and comfortable furniture and saw none of it. She thought about how in the beginning, everyone had been eager to show off his or her house. There'd been a flurry of visits, a fair amount of bragging, compliments thrown around. And then, it had all stopped. As if by agreement everyone had retreated into his or her private mini-world, his or her personal kingdom, and shut the door

Still, it bothered her, this self-imposed isolation everyone had grabbed. It meant a lack of real community. And a lack of real concern for one another.

The town center, for example, was a joke. It was there because everyone remembered their hometown or city having a central place of business and social activity. So it had seemed necessary to construct one here.

Violet stopped her nervous pacing, sat down on the edge of a Louis XIV chair, and stared into space. The silence was huge. Not everyone lived alone. Violet had chosen to because who would she have chosen as a housemate? Noyze had Dr Cohen, a friend and sort of surrogate mother They kept each other good company. Mo'Steel lived with his mother, another logical choice.
Jobs had Edward. Yago, his toadies, D-Caf and Anamull. Tamara no longer had her baby �the Baby � which was both a blessing and a cruelty. But now she had Tate, who seemed to have appointed herself Tamara's guardian. And Tate had also taken in Roger Dodger, for whom she acted as a protective big sister.

That left T.R. in his nondescript split-level ranch house. Violet smiled when she thought of it. For a psychiatrist, T.R. did not display a lot of imagination. Burroway also lived solo � except for the so-called company of cartoon "help" � in a pseudo-English cottage. Actually, it seemed to Violet more of a mini-manor house. Very appropriate for someone with delusions of grandeur.

2Face lived alone and that seemed natural. Violet couldn't imagine such an independent person sharing space with anyone. Kubrick, too, had his own place. It pained Violet to acknowledge that the poor boy was probably better off living alone than with someone who was struggling to pretend that Kubrick, with his see-through skin, didn't gross them out.

Violet sighed, stood, and stretched. "Maybe Jobs is right," she said out loud. "Maybe we should get out of here while we can."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What are you doing here?"

Kubrick flinched. So much for "Hi. How are you?" Instead he said, "I know you're busy...."

"Come in." 2Face turned away from the door and walked inside. Kubrick hesitated, then followed, closing the door behind him.
2Face's house was a disturbing place. The pool was okay, though Kubrick had never been much of a swimmer. 2Face had told him straight out that the water was unchlorinated because chlorine still stung her scars.

That was the thing about the house, and about 2Face. They were both so in-your-face, so about the fire that had transformed beautiful Essence Hwang into a girl with a grudge. It both attracted and repelled Kubrick. Like the way 2Face had decorated every single wall with mirrors, even in the kitchen. Like she couldn't stop looking at herself, reminding herself of who she was. Or maybe it was that she wouldn't stop looking. Kubrick wasn't sure he wanted to know either way.

Besides, it wasn't like his own place didn't say something about who he had become. Maybe who he'd always been � a freak. A failed experiment of his father's. And of Mother. The difference between his house and 2Face's was that hers seemed somehow a fierce celebration of who she was, while his was definitely not.

Kubrick had no mirrors, on the walls or anywhere else. He still couldn't bear to look at himself and was pretty sure he never would be able to stand the sight. He saw the way people's eyes darted away. But 2Face was the one who never flinched. So visiting her was tough because Kubrick had to keep his eyes on her, or keep them closed.

Too many mirrors.

"Are you ashamed of yourself?" she'd demanded once, angrily.

"Yeah." He'd told her the truth.

Now that he could choose his own clothing, he chose long-sleeved shirts, turtlenecks, long pants, gloves, a baseball cap, sometimes with a bandanna underneath. Unlike Mo'Steel's, Kubrick's bandanna wasn't about attitude or mopping up sweat. It was about coverage. He'd even considered wrapping up his face. But he hadn't gone that far. Yet.

Kubrick followed 2Face into the kitchen. He watched as she took bread from the bread box, ham from the refrigerator, tomatoes from a bowl on the counter He watched as, seemingly ignoring him, she began to make sandwiches. Kubrick tugged at his gloves, though they were as far up over his skinless wrists as they could go.

"Do you think the Baby is really gone?" he said. "The Shipwright, I mean."

"You came over to ask me that?" 2Face sighed dramatically and put down the knife she was using to slice the bread. "Kubrick, I have no idea what really happened to that � whatever it was � and I don't really care. As long as Billy stays where he is and does what we ask him."

"I was wondering," Kubrick blurted. "Do you think Billy could, you know, maybe change me back to normal?"

2Face gave Kubrick a challenging look. "Why would you want to do that?" she said.

To himself Kubrick answered. So you would go out with me. So people wouldn't want to throw up when they see me. But he couldn't say those things aloud, to anyone, least of all to 2Face.

So he said nothing.

"You think you're all vulnerable, everything showing, nothing hidden, don't you?" she asked.

Kubrick didn't answer her. He felt tears coming to his eyes and tried to blink them back but there was nothing to blink them back with. Why had he come?

"Like you're the walking wounded, a big gaping hole everyone can see into, a �"

"Stop," Kubrick said.

"A freak." 2Face stared at him. Her eyes were hard. Kubrick couldn't understand why she hated him so much.

He turned to leave.

"That's too bad," he heard her say, her voice louder, catching him. Kubrick stopped.

"Because you're really just like everyone else. Want some lunch?"

2Face really is a fascinating, character.

quote:

CHAPTER 5

D-CAF WANTED VERY BADLY TO GO HOME.

Yago had dragged them out here, to the edge of The Zone, again. D-Caf guessed they were probably going to meet another Blue Meanie. He was supposed to keep quiet about these meetings, and so far he had. But sometimes the urge to tell someone about what Yago was up to was so strong. Not that D-Caf really understood exactly what Yago was doing, but he knew enough to know Yago was probably causing trouble for the others.

The east edge of The Zone was a very pretty forested area, re-created from famous paintings and beautiful photographs. D-Caf liked it here. It was deep green and peaceful and the air smelled fresh and piney. It made D-Caf happy, even though just beyond the forest, smack up against it like a line had been drawn, no transition, was the Riders' environment. That swampy place, with the copper-colored water and the goofy trembling trees. That, D-Caf could do without, but it was part of the Big Compromise that Billy maintain the Riders' environment.

"Dude," Anamull said, pointing to the sky, "here comes one now."

D-Caf looked furtively at Yago. His face bore that weird "I am seeing more than what you all see" expression. And why did he always have to wear white clothes? White shirt, white pants, even white shoes.

A single Blue Meanie came in for a landing. From a distance D-Caf could never tell one Meanie from another But up close, even though their blue-black suits were identical and didn't even allow their eyes to be seen, somehow D-Caf could immediately recognize individuality. Yago found this ability of D-Caf's useful.

The Blue Meanie got closer. It was wearing his blue-black armor, of course, that doubled as a flying, suit. The suit/armor covered every inch of the Meanie's body. But D-Caf knew what this Meanie really looked like. Its body was kind of pony-shaped and pony-sized. It had four legs that tapered into feet that weren't really feet. The Meanie was hairless. No fur, either its skin was rubbery and wrinkly. Its head was low-slung and its eyes, intelligent. On either side of its head was a snaky tentacle. D-Caf had seen the Meanies use their tentacles to communicate in a sort of sign language, as well as to perform tasks. The tentacles were like human hands in that way.

The Blue Meanie landed. His name was Three Glowing Moons. They had met with this Meanie before. He was one of Yago's favorites. No matter how often Yago repeated his crazy message. Three Glowing Moons seemed willing to listen.

Yago wasted no time getting started.

"It is good that you are here," Yago intoned. "There is no time to waste. The Mother you once knew and loved has fallen. Mother is no more, but in her place has arisen another even more worthy of your respect. That person is me. I am Yago."

D-Caf had heard it all before. Yago was the one who was followed by the Few. The Few were the Chosen. The Freaks and their protectors were not among the Chosen. Blah blah blah.

"Mother is weak," Yago went on. "She allowed herself to be taken over by an outsider, an alien to the Children's true cause. That alien is the human called Billy. How can she continue to be your guiding light when she herself is so blind?"

Another Blue Meanie was coming in slowly for a landing. When it was on the ground it approached Three Glowing Moons and Yago cautiously. D-Caf was sure he'd never seen this Meanie before.

Yago never missed a beat. "You will henceforth be known as the ones who follow Yago. You will change your names from those celebrating Mother to those celebrating me."

"The Grand Mystic Poo-Bah." D-Caf giggled.

Anamull snorted. "Hey. Nice to meet you. My name is Yago's Big Butt."

"I'm Yago's �"

Anamull shoved him before he could finish his sentence.

"Ow!"

Yago turned and glared at D-Caf with his golden catlike eyes. D-Caf looked down at his feet. D-Caf knew he had to be careful what he said around Yago. Yago was becoming more and more unpredictable. His anger was getting more and more out of control. D-Caf was pretty sure that Yago was sick. In the head.

But sometimes Yago was just so funny. He didn't mean to be but he was. And D-Caf couldn't help but laugh.

Still, D-Caf was grateful to Yago for being the only one of the Wakers to talk to him from the start, to treat him like a person. Even though D-Caf knew that from the beginning Yago was using him, that he probably didn't even like him. But at least Yago acknowledged his existence, found something for him to do at every turn, and when you're all alone, alone like no one else in the world has ever quite been, you'll take any form of friendship you can get.

Like that girl Tate, the one with the shaved head except for a bunch of dreadlocks at the back gathered into a ponytail that hung halfway down her back. She had trusted him when she and Roger Dodger had been escaping from the Riders. D-Caf smiled at the thought. Riding those hoverboards had been very cool. He'd been very good at it, too. He'd felt proud and that was a very new feeling for D-Caf. He never felt anything but stupid around Yago, even when Yago was being odd.

But when it had come time to actually settle down and live somewhere, D-Caf had chosen to live with Yago. Well, actually, Yago had told D-Caf and Anamull that they would be staying with him. But D-Caf hadn't protested. He knew he'd basically be Yago's servant, but that was better than being alone with no one to talk to. Or to listen to.

And Yago could be entertaining. As well as creepy. Lately, he'd taken to muttering about Billy being his archrival. Stuff that made D-Caf think that Yago was seriously looney. Nevertheless, D-Caf lived with Yago and Anamull in what was called the Castle. It was grandiose beyond anything D-Caf had ever seen back on Earth. It was all white marble and purple velvet and gold stuff, like candelabra and picture frames, even the crown that Yago wore every night at dinner. There were at least fifty rooms at any given time. D-Caf had given up counting or keeping track of them because Yago was always petitioning Billy for changes.
Even now D-Caf sometimes got lost in the ever-changing labyrinth that was the second floor.

D-Caf and Anamull each had his own bedroom � Yago wasn't stingy, at least � and Yago had a personal suite of rooms that included a bathroom the size of D-Caf's old house back on Earth. On the first floor there was a throne room where. Yago spent several hours each day being waited upon by a corps of cartoons in fancy costumes. D-Caf had learned that the costumes were an amalgamation of styles from classical Rome and ancient Egypt.

The overall architecture and style of the Castle also combined elements from these two cultures, like walls painted with scenes of people feasting, and golden sphinxes, as well as lots of rich trappings, like bronze spiraled columns and elaborate stained-glass windows from the Italian Renaissance. Violet had pointed out stuff taken almost directly from St. Peter's Basilica in Rome.
D-Caf didn't think Violet liked him, but she was polite to him, and that mattered a lot.

Outside, the Castle was all white because Yago said white was pure. That was one of his favorite words: pure.

The roof of the Castle was decorated with a never-ending succession of turrets and towers and spirals and glittering silver triangular shapes and a big gold ball with nine little gold balls circling it. Yago kept D-Caf and Anamull busy delivering requests to Billy for more stuff to be put up there. If anyone had asked him, D-Caf would have said there was more than enough big ugly stuff up there already. But nobody asked him, so he kept his mouth shut.

D-Caf came back to the present just in time for the weird thing Yago always did to the Meanies who came to see him.

Three Glowing Moons beckoned to his recently arrived companion. "Are you ready to receive the gift of touch?" Yago intoned.

Anamull took a step back. D-Caf thought that was a good idea. He stepped back, too, landed on Anamull's foot, got a slap in the back of the head.

With Three Glowing Moons helping him, the second Meanie removed one of his tentacles from the blue-black suit. Looks like a big wrinkly worm, D-Caf thought.

Three Glowing Moons pushed the second Meanie forward so that he stood close to Yago. Then Yago reached out and placed his bare hand on the Meanie's tentacle. D-Caf didn't know what was happening, though he'd seen Yago do this before. And it was the same every time. The second Meanie was sent into a deep well of emotion. D-Caf didn't know exactly what the Meanie was feeling but he knew it was powerful. His armored body shook.

When Yago removed his hand, the Meanie collapsed against Three Glowing Moons. Maybe Yago really has something powerful going on, D-Caf thought uneasily. Or maybe, like Edward, the chameleon kid, Yago had been mutated by five hundred years of exposure to radiation. Or maybe ... maybe any human could touch a Meanie on his bare flesh and the Meanie would react.

D-Caf didn't know the answer and had a feeling that if he asked Yago, he'd get only some mumbo jumbo. And he didn't feel comfortable asking Anamull.

The second Meanie had covered his tentacle once again with his suit.

Yago spoke. "Now go and deliver my message to your people," he said. "Tell them I can show them the way to perfect happiness."

When Three Glowing Moons' companion had recovered his senses. Three Glowing Moons withdrew something from a pouch slung across his chest, bandolier style, and handed it to Yago. Across the screen on his chest scrolled the words: Accept my gift
It was a small fl�chette gun, the kind D-Caf had seen too many times before. This particular weapon, usually part of the Meanies' armor, had been fitted out with a handle built for a human hand. It had been made especially for Yago.

The delight on Yago's face was unmistakable. He was like a little kid with a new toy. In one swift, graceful movement, Yago swung around, took aim at a huge old oak tree, and fired.

D-Caf squeezed his eyes shut against the sound.

After a moment, he opened them. The tree had been ripped apart, branches severed. Its trunk now a stack of slivers. Yago held the fl�chette gun to his chest. "It will do," he mumbled. "It will do."

At that moment, D-Caf wanted very badly to go home.

# ? May 29, 2024 01:32

Llab: Dec 28, 2011; PEPSI FOR VG BABE

This is going to end extremely well.

# ? May 29, 2024 01:57

Soonmot: Dec 19, 2002; Entrapta fucking loves robots; Grimey Drawer

yeah when has a cult leader being given a weapon ever gone bad?

# ? May 29, 2024 03:50

Edna Mode: Sep 24, 2005; Bullshit, that's last year's Fall collection!

Yago: "Billy is the pretender, I am the true Chosen One."

Also Yago: "Billy, can you please add another room to my castle that you made for me?"

# ? May 29, 2024 14:19

Adbot: ADBOT LOVES YOU

# ? May 31, 2024 11:25

Llab: Dec 28, 2011; PEPSI FOR VG BABE

I wish for Yago to continue doing nothing but hang out with his pals while other people take control and do stuff

# ? May 30, 2024 06:39

The Something Awful Forums > The Finer Arts > The Book Barn > Let's Read The Remnants: jesus christ what the fuck

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