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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

Fl้chettes!

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 fl้chettes 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 fl้chette 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?

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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?

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.

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.

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

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.

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."


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.

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 fl้chette 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 fl้chette gun to his chest. "It will do," he mumbled. "It will do."

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

Llab
Dec 28, 2011

PEPSI FOR VG BABE
This is going to end extremely well.

Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




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

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?"

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

Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




Grimey Drawer

quote:



CHAPTER 6

BILLY WEIR WAS SO ALONE.



Billy Weir reclined in one of the chairs that allowed him to interface with the computers. He was the master programmer. He hadn't exactly asked for that role. He didn't really have a choice about defeating the Baby, the Maker, the Shipwright named Te. Could he have chosen not to incorporate Mother?

Billy had a lot to think about.

Sometimes he now saw himself and the world around him as if through the multilensed eyes of a fly, a hundred tiny reclining chairs, a thousand tiny computers, a million tiny Billys. He saw every image at once, though distinctly, like watching a wall of TV screens, each showing a different image, but each image somehow part of a whole, of one master image.

Billy knew it shouldn't make sense, but to him, it did.

The experience was more like looking through a kaleidoscope, everything and everyone bright and fragmented, shifting, forming one big design, then flowering into another, in a rhythmic dance that spoke nothing but truth.

Billy knew he was alone in the way he saw things. Always had been.

He saw things that were in his field of sight. He saw things that were far, far away. Vision and perspective were interesting matters.

Billy rarely ventured out into The Zone he'd created for the others. He spent most of his time in a tiny, spare room just off the bridge, or on the bridge itself. The bridge was a massive space, octagonal in shape. Computer equipment, originally designed for the Shipwrights, was everywhere. The ceiling was a giant screen that revealed the space through which the ship traveled.

When Billy had first reached the bridge, the computers had been littered with odds and ends. It seemed the Shipwrights had long since ceased to actively control the ship; Mother had been set on autopilot and the bridge was used mainly as a sort of library or meeting room. When Billy took over, he'd gotten rid of the Shipwrights' tchotchkes. He'd left the simple geometric designs, mere decoration, where they were.

Billy wasn't interested in much these days. He wasn't even interested in food anymore, though the truth was that he'd never been much interested in food. That was something his father. Big Bill, had just not understood. Billy ate simple foods now, simply to keep his body alive, his heart pumping blood through his veins.

And Billy kept his body alive because the others relied on him. Because if he was no longer, their safety in The Zone would be no longer. And he felt he owed them — some of them, anyway — for taking care of him when he'd slowed so far down it was as if he didn't exist.

Billy wanted to stay as he was now because he knew something was happening to him. Again.

Billy had the strong sense that he was becoming less human and more something — else. And he was curious to learn what, exactly, he was becoming.

Because Billy was pretty sure that what he was becoming — maybe what he had already become — was not part of the human race's past or its future. This disturbed him. And it excited him.

Billy couldn't forget. Just before the Baby/Shipwright/Maker had died — just after Billy had absorbed Mother Into his own self — the Maker had said to Billy: "You are not human."

"I'm human," Billy had asserted, but even then he hadn't been sure of this. There had been doubt, occasioned by a vague memory of shapes, pulsating energy fields ... something. The vagueness of the memory had disturbed Billy more than anything, used as he was to amazingly vivid recall even of memories not his own. He'd told himself the memory was just a remembered hallucination.

What else had the dying Maker said? Yes: "The ancient enemy." The remark was cryptic then and remained a mystery. Was Billy that ancient enemy? The ancient enemy of whom?

The one thing Billy was interested in was himself.

"I need to know," he whispered to the empty room.

What potential did he possess, for good, for evil? What was his purpose, why was he here? Or was his life just a random series of cosmic accidents and grand mistakes? Had he, alone among all other humans, suffered a cataclysmic evolution, an almost
instantaneous transformation, somewhere along the line in his life?

Was he forever separated from the human race? Had he always been? Could he ever go back and if he could, if he even wanted to, who would show him the way?

Billy Weir was so alone.

Okay. So the time had come. He would go back to the start and follow the path to the future.

He would find himself along the way.

He hoped.

He closed his eyes. It began immediately.

The appearance of life on Earth. Three-point-six to three-point-seven billion years before Earth's destruction by the Rock.

All life descending from a primordial protoplasmic mass, all life originating in the sea.

Billy focused. He experienced himself from the simplest component, the most basic building block of all life. Billy knew himself as a strand of DNA. The structure that every schoolkid knew encoded the essence of a species. The thing that all living things had in common — genetics.

Too rapidly for true evolutionary process, Billy watched himself expand into a simple one- celled animal, an amoeba. Billy hurried through the next phases of development. Like time-lapse photography times one hundred, Billy grew. Others grew with him. Now he was a small mammal scurrying under the trunklike legs of a herbivorous dinosaur, one of the brontosaurus variety.
Billy looked and listened. Along the evolutionary path, instinct was joined by critical thought. Language began to develop, signs and sounds, eventually speech and writing and so, art. Prehistory became history.

The wheel was invented and light shone from the dark. Economics was born. Hunters and gatherers became farmers and then there were towns and then cities. The notions of leisure and luxury took hold, as did the notion of master and servant. Human beings struggled, fought, loved, and nurtured. They developed new emotions like shame and new concepts like sin. They domesticated other species. They made government. But nothing in the long evolution of man explained Billy. Nothing revealed a clue as to what Billy had become and why. He extended the sequence into the future. The future that might now never come.

Now the human animal was no longer recognizable as the upright, two-legged creature it had been in the year 2011, when the Rock had destroyed planet Earth. In Billy's mind the human that was Billy and every other human rapidly became a sleek, hairless, translucent creature with a sea of tiny antennae rising from its scalp.

Nothing.

Billy stopped the process. Nothing in the long sequence of human evolution explained him.

Nothing.

What Billy had become was not a part of the human past or a part of its future. Billy was a wild trajectory off the evolutionary path.

Billy Weir was alone.

Uhhh, good job, Billy?

quote:



CHAPTER 7

"THERE'S A PLACE I CAN'T GO."



Jobs had mixed feelings about visiting Billy on the bridge or in his small room. He didn't like to bother Billy while he was working, which was always. But he felt a sort of companionship with Billy. And a sense of being Billy's big brother somehow, protector of a genius kid the other kids picked on.

But, right now, Billy was pretty much in charge, wasn't he? He'd defeated the Baby/Shipwright/Maker and taken over Mother. Jobs had known from the beginning that Billy was special, different, strong, and had wanted so badly to know what that specialness meant, what it could do, what Billy could achieve.

Partly it was Jobs's insatiable curiosity that had driven him to care for Billy in his comatose state; partly, it was Jobs's highly developed sense of morality, social responsibility, feelings about what one person owed to another.

He found Billy reclining in his usual interface chair, the place from which he basically ran the ship now that Mother was — gone. Jobs knew that Billy saw him but that at the same time Billy saw other things, too, the Remnants, the Riders and Meanies, far parts of the ship, everything all at once. Jobs was only one screen among the thousands in Billy's consciousness.

Billy didn't waste time on a greeting.

"Tell me about what you've found," he said.

"You know?"

Billy didn't answer. Jobs wondered if Billy had been watching his journey through space, or if he just sensed Jobs had some news?

"Well," Jobs's voice cracked as he spoke.

Jobs told Billy what he — and then Mo'Steel — had seen, and where. There was no way for him to read Billy's reaction to the information. Emotions never showed on his face. His body never twitched or shifted or shook to indicate feelings. Though he seemed to be looking at Jobs, Jobs had the feeling Billy was also looking at something else far, far away.

"In general," Billy asked, "who are the ones who want to stay where they are and perfect The Zone?"

"Violet," Jobs said. "I told her what I found. She wasn't impressed. Olga. Dr. Cohen and Noyze. Kubrick. And Burroway."

"They're content?"

"They've said so in the past. They know things aren't perfect, they know it's all computer-generated and not real, but they're willing to accept it. I think they feel sort of safe."

Billy was silent for a moment. Then: "What do the others want?"

"Some want to get aggressive," Jobs said. "They want to spread beyond the one node we have, destroy the Blue Meanie threat, and take over the ship completely."

"They want to ignore the Big Compromise. Who are they? Besides Yago."

"Yes. Though he's been acting so strangely, I can't get a reading on what he really wants. Anamull and D-Caf, of course. They'll do just about anything he says. And I've heard T.R. Say taking over the ship sounds like a good idea. But I don't really know how he'd vote if push comes to shove."

"Who else?"

"I'm pretty sure 2Face is an expansionist, too," Jobs told him. "She's always saying how the situation we've created is unstable at best. 2Face isn't the kind of person to sit still for long."

"She has plans?" Billy said.

Jobs shrugged. "Probably."

"Is that it?"

"No. I'm pretty sure Tamara is with them. I don't know why. And Tate. I don't know what Roger Dodger thinks. He's just a kid and he doesn't say much but he lives with Tamara and Tate so …"

"Edward lives with you," Billy pointed out. "He's your brother. And since the Big Compromise you've said that what you want most is to find a habitable planet and colonize it. So, how does Edward vote?"

"He's too little to really understand the options. But I don't know." Jobs frowned. "He sticks by me, sure. But he also really likes 2Face. Remember, she saved his life. She's a sort of hero to him."

"That leaves Mo'Steel."

"And you, Billy."

"That leaves Mo'Steel," Billy repeated. "He's your best friend."

"But he's got a mom. I think he's confused. But he doesn't talk much about it. Or about what he wants." Jobs grinned. "Except for a girlfriend."

"So, what do you think?" Billy asked. "You think people will change their minds about staying on board Mother when they hear what you've found?"

"I think it's a good bet some of the others will want to turn the ship around and head for the planet."

For the first time since Jobs had entered the room, Billy looked directly at him.

"You mean, you want to turn the ship around."

Jobs nodded. "Yes. But I know what the risks are. I know what could happen."

"Do you?"

"It would take generations to get there, for one."

"No. Less time than that."

"How much less?" Jobs was intrigued.

"I'll show you," Billy said.

And then Jobs was swept out of the attic, off the bridge, and into ... into a vision of numbers, clear and precise, a vision of equations, of truths ... a vision of stars and of space, and past, present, and future in one lovely, swirling, twisting strand, binding him, freeing him ... And then the numbers again, coming faster and larger and closer ... Jobs was on his back, his stomach, his feet, his head, he felt wonderful, he was in pain, it was so beautiful and true and it was too much, too much....

He heard himself cry out and all the numbers went away and all that was left was the beautiful swirling strand and then ... all of space, a wavy surface, curved and rippled and twisted and ... Mother, Mother poking a perfect hole right though the waving surface of space and time and …

Jobs sat down hard on his butt. "Oh. Okay. Wormholes. Mother can tunnel through time and space."

"Six months, if everything goes okay." Billy said. "But we can be sure the Children won't be happy. We'll be going against the Big Compromise by changing the ship's course. Remember?"

Jobs shook his head. "Yeah. The deal is we can look for a habitable planet within reach of Mother's present course. When — if — we find a planet we promised to leave Mother and turn over control to the Meanies."

"And if more than a small course change is needed to reach the planet," Billy added, "we've promised to ask for the Meanies' permission before going ahead. I'll turn Mother around almost 180 degrees. I don't think the Meanies will go for that. They've made it clear they have their own agenda. So we'd have to do this on our own. We have to break the rules of the Big Compromise."

Jobs felt distinctly uncomfortable hearing the naked truth spoken aloud. But he also knew exactly what he wanted.

"They'll fight us," Jobs responded. "Can we fight back?"

"You mean, can I fight for all of us?" Billy asked and closed his eyes. "I'm still limited by Mother's failsafe subroutines, Jobs. You know that. In battle I might not be much help at all."

"Okay. Okay. But if the others vote to turn Mother around …"

"So you're going to tell them what you think you've found?"

"Yes. Do I have a choice? So, will you help us?"

Billy opened his eyes and sat up in the chair.

"Do I have a choice?" he asked quietly. "If I turn Mother around I want you to do something for me."

"Okay," Jobs said warily.

"There's a place I can't go," Billy said. "One place in Mother I'm locked out of. A dark place."

Jobs nodded. Billy was starting to really freak him out.

"Go there for me. Jobs." Billy's tone was pretty urgent. "And then come back and tell me what's there."

"What do you think I'm going to find?" Jobs said. "You have any idea?"

"I think you'll find the answer."



Okay wow, that's ominous. The Big Compromise sounds kind of lovely.

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys

Soonmot posted:

The Big Compromise sounds kind of lovely.

If the human history had a slogan, this might be it

QuickbreathFinisher
Sep 28, 2008

by reading this post you have agreed to form a gay socialist micronation.
`
Billy is on his way to becoming an Ellimist of circumstance

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys

QuickbreathFinisher posted:

Billy is on his way to becoming an Ellimist of circumstance

Oh, good catch

Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




Grimey Drawer

quote:



CHAPTER 8

"HERE WE GO, KIDDIES."



They met in the town center, at the old-fashioned whitewashed bandstand on the grassy square. No one had requested a town hall be generated, so none had been. There was no hospital, either. Dr. Cohen had opened a medical office but so far, no one had
really gotten sick. There had been a restaurant for a while but no one seemed to know a lot about gourmet food. So after a two-thirds majority vote — Billy's rule for any changes to the shared, public areas — that was gone now. There was a fast-food place that combined decor and other elements from McDonald's, Burger King, KFC, Taco Bell, and Disney World. There was a
Mexican place that repeated the Taco Bell selections and added the more popular dishes, like extra-large nachos and chicken quesadillas from ChiChi's.

this makes me cry lol

Some of the Remnants had asked for several clothing and shoe stores. As they didn't actually have to pay for the merchandise, these stores seemed to be always full of cartoon "customers" and almost always out of stock. On one occasion, Olga Gonzalez had been seen carrying home no fewer than seven shopping bags.

There was a sporting goods store, which, at Tamara's request, supported a public gym on the second floor, boasting state-of-the-art exercise equipment. State-of-the-art equipment that back in the year 2011, five hundred years in the past, every professional body builder would have killed for.

So far, no one but Tamara had used the facility.

There was no public library and no movie theater A Starbucks and a Publix grocery store completed the town center.

People got from one place to another mostly by walking. In the beginning there had been a few cars. Jobs had requested one, as had 2Face and Burroway. But driving had proved an awkward and inefficient method of transportation as there were no public roads, no transit authority to set standards and establish rules and regulations. With so many voices and so many individual desires, a well-maintained public road was an impossibility. Roads stopped or started abruptly and were apt to change on an almost daily basis as Billy received and filtered and executed requests for pretty hillocks or gravel paths or romantic roads to nowhere.

Maybe the most ridiculous of the attempts at an individual statement had been T.R.'s personal helicopter. Aside from the fact that he had no idea how to pilot the copter — though Billy easily could have created an autopilot program — there was no place for T.R. to pilot the copter to. An afternoon jaunt to Rider territory? Blue Meanie-ville? The center of town, to have a one-sided chat with the two-dimensional pedestrians Billy had created to lend reality to the place?

The helicopter sat unused on T.R.'s suburban lawn, an uncomfortable reminder to some — like Jobs — of the ultimate folly of their life aboard Mother

"Thanks for coming, everyone," Jobs said loudly. Voices dropped to murmurs, then whispers, then silence as Jobs stood waiting. The "sun" was shining and a gentle "breeze" blew wisps of hair into Jobs's eyes.

"What's up?" 2Face asked.

Jobs told them. He told them about the solar system he had found and about the lumpy planet he thought might be the remains of Earth and the moon. He explained to them about its being at the very limits of Mother's sensors, thus requiring the ship to change course by 180 degrees, should they want to go there. He reminded them that to do so would be in violation of the Big Compromise. He told them how long the trip would take....

Dr Cohen put her hand to her chest. "Eighty years? We'll be dead by then!" They were the first words anyone had said since Jobs had begun to speak.

"But our children might not be," TR. said. "And our grandchildren."

"Oh, right," 2Face said. "Our little mutations, you mean."

Tamara flinched. Tate patted her back.

"Why would anyone want to bring a child into this ... this place? Bad enough we're here."

Dr Cohen nodded. "I'm with Olga."

"Everybody! Listen. It won't actually take eighty years. Mother has the ability to tunnel through space," Jobs explained.

"What does that mean?" Noyze asked.

"Think wormholes," Jobs said. "Portals between different parts of the universe, linked by black holes!"

Noyze looked blank. She wasn't the only one.

"Like, warp speed on Star Trek? Roger Dodger said. "My father used to watch the repeats of that show."

Jobs sighed.

"Look," he said, "it would take too long for me to explain the whole thing. Just trust me on this. Billy told me that, in theory. Mother could get us to the planet in six months. The timing is not the problem."

"The Blue Meanies are the problem," 2Face said.

"Exactly" Jobs said. "They've got some agenda we know nothing about. They don't want us to alter Mother's course in any major way. And we promised we wouldn't. Now we're considering breaking that promise."

"For our own needs," Violet muttered.

"What else?" 2Face.

"Jobs," Olga said, "what does Billy think of this?"

"He ..." Jobs shrugged. "I think he'll do what we ask him. Even if he has reservations. But he does want something in exchange."

Mo'Steel grinned his wild grin. "Here we go, kiddies."



quote:

CHAPTER 9

"I’D LIKE TO BE SPECIAL."



The Blue Meanies were camped out just beyond the east, forested edge of The Zone. Edward didn't know where exactly they had lived a long time ago when their ancestors had been created to take care of Mother. All he knew was that since the Big Compromise they'd asked to be left alone in the environment Billy created for them.

Edward didn't understand the Meanies' environment. There were long, simple structures made of what looked like the same dark shiny stuff their armor was made of. They reminded Edward of army barracks. Maybe only the soldiers lived there. Anyway, Edward didn't have the guts to sneak inside one of the buildings so he didn't know what really went on. Maybe the Meanies had secret labs, like Jobs's, where they were developing new and better weapons to fight the humans.

Edward was sure they were up to something bad.

Aside from the barracks there were no other buildings. The ground was something like pressed sand. And there were no trees and stuff.

Edward had come here a lot lately. He'd been to lots of places he shouldn't have, like Yago's Castle and the Riders' swampy home, and no one had ever known. Edward liked to find things out for himself. People, like his big brother, considered him just a kid and nobody told a kid anything.

But Edward was more than just a kid. He was the Chameleon. He wasn't invincible but he definitely had superpowers. 2Face had told him so.

And lately he'd figured that maybe he could use those superpowers to fight the bad guys. Because if he could secretly watch on the Blue Meanies and the Riders and Yago — who 2Face said was big trouble — maybe he could find out important information.

Like if the Riders or Meanies were going to attack The Zone. Or if Yago was planning to ask Billy for another stupid thing to put on top of his Castle. People liked information. People respected other people who had information they could use.

It was hard for Edward to blend into the Meanies' environment. There just wasn't a lot to blend into. Usually he didn't even think about how his powers worked but here he did. He'd decided that stretching out on the ground was good.

Edward watched the skin on his arms turn slightly shiny, smooth, and tannish. The texture was like superfine crystals. About ten yards away there were about fifteen Blue Meanies, armor and all. Edward didn't know what was going on, but he was pretty sure the Meanies were mad. Maybe scared, too, or something. Because their tentacles were flying around like crazy, like whips cracking in the air.

Edward remembered the terrible fight at the football stadium. His big brother had hidden him in the stands, but Edward had seen what was going on. He'd seen the Blue Meanies fire those weapons that shot lots of very sharp pieces of metal. He'd seen one of the Meanies take aim at 2Face and he'd cried out, even though Jobs had told him to keep his mouth shut. 2Face had heard him and gotten out of the way just in time.

2Face had saved his life once, back when he'd been attacked by those ugly goblins and all, and Edward had figured he owed her

Suddenly, the strange sound of the Meanies' waving tentacles got louder and Edward saw something new. A bunch of Meanies, no doubt armed with fl้chette guns and mini-missiles, were approaching the first group. When they got closer, Edward saw that in the center of the second group was a Meanie without his armor He looked like a prisoner. A wrinkly, funny-looking prisoner
Edward watched. He'd learned a few of the signs the Meanies used to communicate, but when they were really upset like this it was hard to follow.

But he did figure out that the Meanie without the armor was in big trouble because one of the other Meanies tied his two tentacles together so he couldn't talk. Then everyone walked off, away from the edge of The Zone and toward the barracks.

Edward decided it would be too dangerous to follow the Meanies farther into their territory. Besides, he was scared. Maybe he could come back tomorrow and find out more, when the angry Meanies had calmed down.

Edward made his way back into The Zone. He was just stepping over the border when —

"Hey."

Edward jumped.

It was that guy who always followed Yago around. D-Caf. He was coming out of the woods. He was carrying a book. Edward had heard Jobs say that D-Caf had killed someone. That made him a bad person. D-Caf didn't look bad. Edward wondered if D-Caf was going to tell on him to Jobs. Jobs didn't like him sneaking off to spy.

"That was pretty cool," D-Caf said. "What you did. The way you can camouflage yourself and all."

"Yeah," Edward said warily.

"It makes you special."

Edward shrugged. "I guess."

D-Caf hung his head. He stuck the toe of his sneaker in the grassy ground and made circles. "I'd like to be special."

"My mom says —" Edward suddenly felt queasy, like when he had the flu that time.

"What?" D-Caf said, looking at Edward. "Oh. I don't remember my mom. She died way before the Mayflower!'

Hearing that made Edward feel a little bit better.

Not that he was happy D-Caf didn't have a mother.

Just that it gave them something in common. "My mom says that everyone is special." D-Caf smiled a bit at Edward. "She sounds nice, your mom."

Edward smiled. "She is."

Mazerunner
Apr 22, 2010

Good Hunter, what... what is this post?
human culture being reduced down to a bunch of fast food chains and yago's creative mode minecraft abomination castle is pretty depressing yeah

Strategic Tea
Sep 1, 2012

Violet is the hero we need, Yago is the hero we deserve

Tree Bucket
Apr 1, 2016

R.I.P.idura leucophrys
2face is a terrible hero, but quite interesting to read about

Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




Grimey Drawer

quote:



CHAPTER 10

SOMETHING DIDN'T MAKE SENSE.


If Mo'Steel hadn't known Jobs back on Earth, he might have been intimidated by his best friend's lab. By his best friend's brain.
As it was, Mo'Steel knew only the kind of respect and affection two guys felt for each other when they'd grown up in the same neighborhood, gone to the same school, thrown French fries at the rocks (behind their backs), and kidded each other about girls.

Jobs was the techie nerd. Mo'Steel was the risk-taking daredevil. Perfect match.

Mo'Steel picked up a thing made of metal and rubber and turned it over. And over. It looked a bit like the kind of fancy thermos you took camping, sort of.

"What is this?" he asked finally.

Jobs looked up from the computer screen and laughed. "Can't you tell? It's a model of a self- contained living unit. You know there'd be no reason ever to leave. Even the food is provided by the unit."

Mo'Steel raised his eyebrows. His best friend was spending way too much time alone, floating around in deep space and holed up in his lab.

"Whatever you say, Duck," he said, putting down the thing. "You're the mad scientist, not me."

Jobs shrugged and went back to doing whatever it was he was doing.

Something had been on Mo'Steel's mind ever since Jobs had shown him the lumpy thing that might be Earth. He just couldn't wrap his head around Jobs's need to get back to the planet. Something didn't make sense. Mo'Steel hopped up onto a worktable and put his hands on his knees.

"Got to ask you something, 'migo," he said.

Jobs grunted.

"Why is it so important to you. Jobs? To see if the planet is Earth. To try to make it work all over again. What do you hope to get out of it?"

The tapping of the keyboard fell silent. Mo'Steel waited. Then Jobs turned around.

"It's not all about going back to Earth" Jobs protested. "It's that... this place, it's not Earth. It's like a toy or a model or something. Let's face it, the level of programming it would take to create a fully functioning, totally lifelike world here is beyond Billy's capabilities. No insult to Billy. But even he knows he can't do it all."

Mo'Steel said, "Okay."

But Jobs wasn't finished.

"I just think we owe it to ourselves, to what's left of the human race, to start something new."

Jobs's tone was defensive. Mo'Steel didn't know how to take that.

"So, it's all about learning and discovery and challenge?" Mo'Steel asked.

His friend was silent.

"Duck?"

Jobs looked up at Mo'Steel. His eyes were tortured. "I can't explain it," he said raggedly. "Let it alone. Mo'. I just have to get back there. If I can."

They were gathered around the ship's elevator. Everyone but Billy, who was up in the attic, as usual. The elevator was a structure that resembled a pyramid. It was a stack of square metal platforms, the bottom platform the largest, the top platform about the size of Jobs's bedroom back on Earth. On the top platform were three rows of three chairs each. Each chair sat on a raised, shallow disk. The mini-chair platforms were surrounded by semicircles of railing with narrow openings through which you could walk.

The whole structure looked old and worn.

It was Jobs who'd first guessed it was a form of transportation throughout the ship. It was Billy who, with the defeat of the Baby/Shipwright/Maker, had wrested full charge of the "elevator."

Jobs surveyed the lineup of volunteers. He was along for the ride. He was the one who'd promised Billy he'd go deep into Mother and find out what she — the ship — was keeping from him. Plus, his technical skills might come in handy. Mo'Steel had jumped at the chance for an adventure. And face it, Jobs's best friend was daring and, okay, just a tiny bit reckless, too. But at the bottom of it all was an unbelievably large store of courage and Mo'Steel wasn't stingy about sharing it.

Of course Tamara was there as well. She was no longer a superhuman fighting machine, but she was still the only one with formal military training. She was a soldier. She could follow orders — and she could give them. So Tamara had volunteered.
Kubrick had also volunteered, but without the solemnity with which Tamara had. There was a sense of "nothing left to lose" with Kubrick. Jobs got the feeling he didn't really care one way or another what happened to himself or to the others. Kubrick had told Jobs, defiantly, that going on a mission was something to do, it would pass the time.

Anamull hadn't volunteered but Jobs had asked him to join the crew. He'd looked to Yago as if for permission, gotten it, and grinned. The kid was a bruiser and physical strength would be a definite asset down in the basement.

At first. Jobs was surprised when 2Face didn't ask to go along. Usually she wanted to be at the center of things, mostly because, as far as Jobs could tell, she was looking out for her own interests, watching her own back. Or actively politicking against, say, Yago, and for herself. 2Face wasn't all bad and she had suffered her share of discrimination since the Mayflower had been captured/saved by Mother, but Jobs thought she was a little too paranoid and cold-blooded for her own good. It didn't take him long to realize that 2Face had to have a motive for staying behind. What that motive was, exactly, he couldn't quite guess.

The final two members of the team were unlikely choices, but both Tate and Yago had wanted to come along. Jobs figured Tate was going because Tamara was. It didn't matter to Jobs. He liked Tate, what little he knew of her. And for Tamara, Jobs felt a mix of pity and respect. It wasn't a totally comfortable feeling but it would have to do.

Yago's offering to be part of the mission was a mystery through and through. Generally, Yago was lazy and cowardly and completely self-interested. But since his up-close-and-personal experience with Mother, something about Yago had changed. Jobs couldn't tell if it was for the better, or even if Yago was faking his new demeanor. Still, nothing obvious explained Yago's volunteering, at least as far as Jobs could see.

Mo'Steel slapped him on the back.

"We're good to go."

Jobs nodded.

2Face would look out for Edward while Jobs was gone. Violet said she'd take in Roger Dodger for the time being. D-Caf said he'd be fine on his own.

There was nothing else holding them back.

"Let's go," Jobs said.

bird food bathtub
Aug 9, 2003

College Slice
This can only end well for all involved.

Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




Grimey Drawer

quote:



CHAPTER 11

"WHY ARE YOU HERE, YAGO?"



2Face watched Yago step onto one of the elevator's chair platforms with the rest of them. She stuck her hands in the pockets of her gray hooded sweatshirt and frowned. She didn't know what Yago was up to with his newfound craziness. But it was probably
something bad, especially for her. She couldn't figure out why he had chosen to go along with Jobs on his mission for Billy, either, but she was glad he'd gone. Because, in his absence she was going to make some serious progress toward becoming the acknowledged and undisputed leader of this place. Not only of The Zone, but of the entire ship.

Billy had forced them all — the humans, the Riders, and the Meanies — to stop fighting and start talking. He had threatened them all with destruction between two gigantic walls and so everyone had shut up and listened. From that moment was born the Big Compromise, the uneasy truce under which all three groups now lived.

2Face hadn't wanted the truce. She still didn't. What 2Face wanted was to fight on, take over the entire ship, not share it with two alien species who could, at any moment, easily slaughter them. What 2Face wanted was to dethrone Billy. He'd usurped the seat of power with his threat of annihilation. He'd forced this peace down their throats. Billy was useful, sure. But 2Face wanted him to be useful under her control and command.

Not under his own.

Now, with Jobs and Yago on their way to being temporarily out of sight, was her chance. 2Face didn't know how she was going to do it, but she knew she was going to come up with something.

She had to.

2Face watched as the team of seven descended into the stepped, pyramidlike body of the elevator, on their way down. Maybe it wouldn't be too hard. The Remnants' current task, with Jobs, Yago, Kubrick, Mo'Steel, Anamull, Tate, and Tamara gone, was to make preparations for defense in the event of renewed hostilities on the part of the Riders or Blue Meanies.

And who's better at strategizing, 2Face thought, looking around at those who'd stayed behind, than me?

The group took the elevator to the lowest level of the ship. The ride took all of three minutes, longer than it would have if Billy hadn't slowed things down at Jobs's request. When they'd first found it, the elevator had operated at something close to the speed of light. It had caused a lot of motion sickness, to say the least.

No one spoke for the duration. But there was something Jobs wanted to know. When the elevator stopped, they stepped off and into what they all called Mother's basement. It was a place that was very much like the dark, industrial-feeling basements they
had known back on Earth.

Jobs turned to Yago. "Why are you here, Yago?" he asked.

Yago smiled. The smile was calculated and hard. "It's pretty simple, Jobs," he answered. "I cannot pass up an opportunity to carry the truth to those who live in darkness."

Jobs thought, Ooookay. That certainly clears things up, and turned away shaking his head. Anamull rubbed his nose and snorted loudly. "So, who's the big cheese here? Who's giving the orders?"

Pretty fair question, Jobs thought.

No one said anything. Jobs looked to each person in the group. And he noticed everyone else doing the same thing.

Kubrick? Probably not. He still creeped people out. Sad — but true.

Anamull? Nope. First, he wasn't very bright. Second, he was too prone to physical violence. Third, he was Yago's yes-man. Not leader material at all.

Yago. Well, guys like Yago had ruled nations back on Earth. But here, on board this ship, in Mother's basement, Yago was not going to get elected to any position of authority unless they all simultaneously lost their minds.

Tamara was tainted by her relationship with the Baby. And it didn't matter that none of it was her fault. The memories of her and the Baby were just too fresh. Too strong. Besides, as far as Jobs could tell, Tamara wasn't interested in being anyone's leader. She tended now to hang back until needed for a specific task, at which point she was willing enough to lend her support. But the hollow look in her eyes and her general silence told Jobs that she wasn't altogether there.

By association, Tate was not a possibility, either. Too close to Tamara.

Mo'Steel was by far the most physically courageous of the lot and his moral center was strong. Problem with choosing him was his long-standing friendship with Jobs. The perfect leader wouldn't be too closely tied to any of his followers. So there wouldn't be any favorites or the chance for sentimental thinking. But then again, wouldn't it be the same with Mo'Steel if Jobs were given control?

"What about you. Duck?" Mo'Steel said suddenly, breaking the silence. "You're the brainiac here."

Jobs was touched by Mo'Steel's vote. He knew he wasn't really leader material. But he'd do what he had to do.

"Let's just get this done," he said. "Let's just go with teamwork."

Again, no one said a word. And Jobs was grateful. But he knew something was going on with Yago.

Jobs didn't know exactly what, but he was definitely going to keep his eyes open.


Yago just gets creepier

Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




Grimey Drawer

quote:



CHAPTER 12

"WE SHOULD STAY TOGETHER."



Yago didn't really notice his surroundings. He walked on with the others in the gloom occasionally brightened by the flickers from what Mo'Steel called the "projection booths," now under Billy's control.

Yago was very content. He'd learned patience and with patience had come rewards. Small at first, only a few followers, a few Chosen among Mother's former Children.

Yago had known for some time now that he was the One. Mother had not been able to defeat him, though she'd tried her best.
He was unconquerable because he was beautiful. He was whole. He was pure. He was the direct polar opposite of the Freaks, like 2Face and Kubrick, and he was the nemesis of their protectors, Mo'Steel and Jobs.

Yes, Yago had accepted the burden, responsibility, and glory of being the best of the survivors of the human race. And he'd chosen to include himself in this mission into Mother's hidden depths because the voice had told him to do so.

The voice.

It had also told him to bring along the gift given to him by Three Glowing Moons, one of his original followers. The voice had told him that he would find the perfect opportunity to use the special weapon.

Yago had learned patience. He knew he would recognize the opportunity when it presented itself.

"How long have we been walking?" Anamull sounded cranky. "I mean, how far away is this place, anyway?"

Jobs frowned. "Based on what Billy told me, I've estimated the ship is about 150 miles long by 100 miles wide. We're headed to the back of the ship, and we started out pretty much midship, so …"

"That's a lot of miles." Mo'Steel shook his head. "I don't mind the exercise, but just walking along like this? Maybe I'll run or something. Meet you guys there."

"No." It was the first word Tamara had spoken since they'd started out. "We should stay together."

"I could be, like, the scout," Mo'Steel protested.

"I think we should listen to Tamara," Tate said.

"Me, too. We don't know what we're going to find down here," Jobs pointed out. "Especially since so much about Mother has changed since Billy took over."

Mo'Steel sighed. "Okay, I'm overruled. But I'm also bored. Maybe we could step up the pace?"

"Maybe we could rest?" Anamull suggested.

"Loser," Kubrick said.

"Freak."

"How about everybody just shutting up?!" Jobs snapped.

Anamull smirked. "Make me."

Jobs sighed. It was going to be a long walk.


Yep, going as well as expected.

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Soonmot
Dec 19, 2002

Entrapta fucking loves robots




Grimey Drawer

quote:



CHAPTER 13

"YOU'RE BREAKING THE RULES, BUDDY."




The basement held lots of memories for Kubrick. Bad ones. Even though he still didn't know if his — surgery — had taken place in the basement or somewhere else on the ship, it was where he and his father had found themselves abandoned. In the basement. It was where Kubrick had first encountered the unspeakable horror of himself. Where he had first had to deal with others and their disgusted/terrified expressions.

The basement was also the place where his father had gone crazy. No point in denying the troubled relationship they'd shared since Kubrick's first lousy day in school. No point in denying that Kubrick had partly resented having to take care of his suddenly helpless father. But there was also no point in denying that when Alberto had been killed, Kubrick had felt
deep pain. And emptiness.

And now he was here again. When he asked himself: Why? he found himself answering, Why not?

They walked on, Kubrick in the lead. Then —

"Look!"

Kubrick stopped suddenly. The others fell into place behind him. Kubrick began to slowly advance toward the darkish marks on the floor ahead of him.

"I think it's blood," he said, his voice tight.

Kubrick knelt and peered closely at the print.

"It looks human. That's a swoosh — you know, a Nike mark in the middle of it." Kubrick stood and turned back to the others.

"Whoa. I mean, we've been hoping to run into more people, but not if they're, like, dead."

Anamull. And he had made a good point.

They kept walking.

The view from the veranda was lovely, Violet couldn't deny that. Even if it wasn't real. T.R. had told her something the other day. He'd shown up unexpectedly just as she was about to have lunch so she'd invited him in. They'd gotten to talking about things and at one point T.R. had explained the origin of the word Utopia. It was from two Greek words meaning "no" and "place."

No place. Nowhere.

Just like where they all were, the Remnants of the human race. No place.

Violet's musings were interrupted just then by the sudden appearance in the distance of... Yes, of three Blue Meanies. She watched them get closer and it didn't take long to realize that they were on a direct course for her house. But in a minute or two they'd be landing on the veranda.

Violet hurried inside and grabbed her link. She didn't even think about who to call.

"2Face? It's Violet. There's trouble. I think. Three Meanies are coming in over my house."

"I'll be right there," 2Face said.

Violet took a deep breath and went back outside to the veranda. This visit — if it was something so innocent — was unprecedented. Violet wasn't even, sure it was allowed under the terms of the Big Compromise. If the Meanies had anything to say to the Remnants, shouldn't they go to Billy first?

Violet watched as the first Meanie landed a few yards away from her on the veranda. The other two remained in the air, circling slowly.

Without thinking, Violet waved hello. The Meanie did not respond with his tentacles but stood up on his hind legs to reveal the screen on the chest portion of his suit. Violet read the words scrolled across the screen.

I am called Three Glowing Moons. I demand to see Yago.

"What?" Violet asked as she turned to see that 2Face and Edward — the latter nearly invisible against a line of potted trees — had arrived. Edward held something behind his back and stayed at the edge of the veranda.

"What does he want to see Yago for?" 2Face demanded.

"Why do you want to see Yago?" Violet asked the Meanie. She was getting a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She watched closely as the Meanie gesticulated with the two tentacles that extended from the side of his head. When he was finished she thought for a moment she'd misunderstood. She asked the Meanie to repeat himself. He did, with the help of a few words blipped across his screen.

"Okay." Violet took a deep breath. "It doesn't make a lot of sense, but this is what I got. They need to see Yago because they need 'the touch.' No, more like the laying on of hands. I think they're talking about some sort of ritual. And …"

"Come on, Violet," 2Face urged.

"Well, I think what they're saying is that 'the touch,' the ritual, brings joy."

"That's silly," Edward said with a giggle.

Violet hushed him. "No," she said. "I can understand. I think. It's not silly to them, Edward."

"I don't believe him," 2Face muttered. "What does Yago think he's doing?"

The Meanie repeated a series of gestures.

"He wants to see Yago," Violet said. "He says... he says he's made the required sacrifice so he must be allowed to see Yago."

"What does he mean by sacrifice?" 2Face asked.

Violet asked the Meanie for an explanation. When she got it, she wished she hadn't. Keeping an eye on the Meanies, she turned partway to 2Face. "This is bad," she said. "They've given Yago a fl้chette gun."

"And he's ... That's why he wanted to go on the mission...."

Violet didn't know what 2Face was getting at.

2Face stepped forward. "Violet, tell our big blue friend the following: No, you cannot see Yago. You're breaking the rules, buddy. The Big Compromise? You're not supposed to be here. This is our place. You go back to your people right now, leave peacefully, and we'll forget this little visit ever happened. Okay?"

Violet communicated 2Face's message. The Meanie didn't seem very happy. Violet wished she were far, far away. Any place other than on the veranda acting as interpreter for three very determined aliens. "They say they don't care about the Big Compromise," she said, trying to keep her voice low and steady. "They say they need Yago. They say they won't take no for an answer."


Now they can't even just go kill Yago because he'll become a martyr for the converted Meanies.

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