Shifti - User contributions [en]

User:Saber/The Heatwave

2008-11-26T03:10:46Z

Saber: New page: "It's going to be another hot one today, folks. The high for today is 101, and with all the humidity in the air, it is going to feel like 115 outside today," the weatherman said, gesturing...

"It's going to be another hot one today, folks. The high for today is 101, and with all the humidity in the air, it is going to feel like 115 outside today," the weatherman said, gesturing to the map on the screen of the TV.

On the other side of the television, a tall white man muttered to himself. "No really? It's hot?" Isaac Perez asked the TV sarcastically as he sat on the couch with several fans aimed in his direction. He pressed his lips together in a bit of frustration at the weather. "Damn you, Mother Nature!" he mumbled.

It had been over a week and a half, and the heat wave that was afflicting Chicago had yet to let up. Day after day of hundred-degree weather was starting to have its affect on the city. So far, there had been nearly 110 deaths within the city limits and dozens more in the suburbs. Isaac had been making sure to check up on his elderly parents ever since the heat wave started. Luckily, they had recently moved into a small but modern condominium with central air conditioning, so with a bit of luck, they would be alright.

Isaac, on the other hand, was living in a sweltering apartment that was not only exceptionally old, but the electrical wiring could barely handle having a computer plugged in, much less the addition of an air conditioning unit.

He wiped the sweat off his brow as he stood from the couch to gather his stuff to go to work. Stopping by the bathroom, he took a moment to check his appearance in the mirror. Hair combed, mustache trimmed; indeed, he found everything in order, and so he continued to prepare for work. He picked up his formal black jacket and snorted. There was no way that he was going to be wearing this on the way to work. After putting the coat onto a hanger, he buttoned up his white dress shirt, with the exception of the collar button, and headed out the door with briefcase and suit jacket in hand.

Driving along Lake Shore Drive can be frustrating enough during rush hour, but as Isaac flipped through the radio stations, trying to get some actual news, every news station was talking about the heat wave. Over and over and over again! He angrily continued to flip through the stations when he suddenly stopped short as he nearly hit a stalled van stuck in traffic. "Aw, fuck. This day is NOT starting off well," he said to himself.

After having been stuck in traffic for over an hour, Isaac finally arrived at the office. In just the few minutes between getting out of his car and getting into the building, he was already sweating pretty badly. He entered his cubicle at about 9:15, 15 minutes late. Angry, the tall lanky man stormed into his corner office, slamming the door behind him. His reputation for being hostile kept people from investigating the noise, as they all knew it was the 'Angry Croc', a nickname that he earned by frequently biting people's heads off, figuratively.

As the manager of his floor of the office, Isaac had quite a few opportunities to keep his anger simmering, considering that people he thought to be incompetent were constantly badgering him about this, that, or another thing. After yelling outright at a few people, everyone else took the hint and avoided Isaac, for which he was rather glad. The last thing he wanted was to deal with people.

At about 12:30 in the afternoon, the power went out. He was typing up a report on his computer when the screen blinked and then faded to black. "ARGH!" he yelled in frustration, and then he noticed that the ceiling lights were off as well. He swore. "Damn you, Mother Nature!" he said angrily.

Muttering irritably as he exited his office a few minutes later, Isaac glanced around to find people making their way to the doors. He angrily demanded an explanation from the nearest person, who hesitantly replied that someone from the upper offices had come down and informed them that the power was out and that it was going to take hours to get it fixed. They had all been told to go home. Isaac’s face contorted with fury as he asked why he hadn’t been informed. Frightened to actually tell Isaac that no one wanted to deal with him, he lied through his teeth and told his boss that he didn't know. Isaac glowered, but after a few seconds, he walked away from the person and back into his office to get his briefcase and jacket.

Isaac found his way over to the parking deck, staying mostly in the shade when possible. The power was out here, as well, but at least they had the sense to open the gate so that people could leave. "Finally, some people with sense in their heads," he grumbled as he walked up 4 flights of stairs in the stifling heat of the parking deck. He reached his car drenched in sweat. He unlocked the car, got in, and started for home. At least he was getting a brief respite from the heat in the air conditioned car.

The day was finally looking up for Isaac. The drive home was fairly stress free, and while the fans that he had pointed at himself as he reclined on the couch were not as efficient as air conditioning, they still did the trick. He vegged out on couch for a bit, and when the fans didn't seem to be cooling him off as well as he liked, he took a cold shower. However, part of the way through his wonderfully cool shower, the lights flickered and then went out. Isaac suspected the worst and quickly got out of the shower and got dressed. He checked several appliances, including the fans, and found that, indeed, none were working. His ire growing again, he decided to check with the other tenants on the floor.

The power was apparently out not just in that building, but on the whole block. After hearing this from the other tenants, Isaac went back to his apartment, fuming. He grabbed his cell phone as soon as he got inside and called the electric company, ComEd, demanding to know when they expected the power to be restored. After being told that it should be at most an hour, Isaac went to the bathroom to take another shower so that he could be cool while he waited. He turned the faucet on, expecting the usual flow of water; however, none came. Isaac stared at the faucet for a few seconds, seething in anger, and yelled, "DAMN YOU, MOTHER NATURE!"

{{Separator|k}}

Meanwhile, somewhere on the cosmic plane, Mother Nature took exception to this third damning in one day. Quite sick of all of these mere humans complaining about the job she was doing, she found it fitting that this human be punished. With the fact that he was complaining about the heat in mind, she set about meting out his punishment.

After she was done, she went back to creating hurricanes to thin out the human population in the Caribbean.

{{Separator|k}}

A few days later, police knocked on the apartment door of Isaac Perez's apartment to check up on him. His parents had called the police, worried about their son because he hadn't called them for a couple days. When no response came, they entered the apartment. They found the place apparently ransacked, as things were strewn all over the place. They searched the apartment and, much to their surprise, they found a hostile crocodile in a water-filled bathtub with the water running. Calling in animal control, they were able to remove the violent reptile from the apartment. The tub-dwelling croc eventually found a home at the Lincoln Park Zoo.

The police never did find Isaac Perez, however; or so they thought, anyway.

User:Saber

2008-11-26T02:55:38Z

Saber: New page: The Heatwave

[[The Heatwave]]

Talk:Pig and Whistle

2007-10-11T19:03:36Z

Saber:

Thanks for that work, Cubist! — [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 21:18, 28 August 2007 (EDT)

:De nada!<br/>Question: Who gets the credit for creating this thing? That is, who holds the copyright on it? This is of more than academic interest, since there's a fair chance that some of the stories for this setting might end up in one of the ANTHROlogy paperbacks, which, in turn, means that it'd be nice to address the question of who gets the "creator's cut" of whichever profits (if any)... [[User:Cubist|Cubist]] 06:05, 29 August 2007 (EDT)

::I'd have to say nobody. This creation arose out of numerous conversations and e-mail exchanges. While it seems, to me, that I instigated it—I can't say that I deserve creators rights. At the same time I can't say whether anyone else that participated in the design deserves them either. What this means is that I'd rather we run this as a trust—that is, everyone listed on the byline has equal rights. If it comes to a head—such as someone wishing to use the setting as the backdrop for a commercial project—then there should be some form of trust such that whatever community grows up around PAW benefits from it rather than any one individual. — [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 15:12, 29 August 2007 (EDT)

== Rules for submission (Or how I learned to keep the record straight.) ==

Speaking from my experience as one who came in via reading the years of TBP stories produced, I believe there are some very critical rules that are required to help keep the story universe from turning in to an incoherent jumble that is confusing to read and impossible to keep track of in any meaningful way either as reader or writer.

These rules are for a story to be canon. One may still write stories in the setting that remain non-canon.

# The author must note the timeframe, as specific as possible, into a date range on the story universe timeline. While a vague range is expected, it should be ideally given within the right year.
# Any cannon story must be included on the central repository. You can still display it elsewhere, still retain rights to it, it just must be filed on the central repository. As a reader coming in to the scene as TBP was apparently falling apart, it became incredibly aggravating to try and find the stories to read. Many stories are effectively lost to the ages. Erosion of the founded history of the story universe will kill it quite dead.
# Now this rule is somewhat more up to opinion. The inclusion of your PaW story as canon means you authorize its duplication into a collected work of all the PaW stories. You lose no rights. You only authorize the story be able to be printed in book form if for some reason in future this can be arranged. Not-for-profit and what not of course included in the legal jargon.

- [[User:Timelord|Timelord]] 02:44, 26 September 2007 (EDT)

:Cleaned up, elucidated on and added to the guidelines. Thanks for the great suggestion! — [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 03:11, 26 September 2007 (EDT)

Just a thought on note 4 but the punishment meted out can be monitored by various people(the press, concerned citizens, the international community) and it would be transparent to mete out a slap on the wrist for an asassin. A better alternative would be to just simply put someone in charge of investigating who would 'run out of leads'.

--[[User:Devin|Devin]] 04:47, 2 October 2007 (EDT)

:Nothing to say that that isn't done in some cases. It all depends on whether the assassin is known or not. (And we also don't want to head off into "NMF" territory with a hyper-specified, iron straight-jacket of a setting description) — [[User:ShadowWolf|ShadowWolf]] 14:11, 2 October 2007 (EDT)

== Question concerning the nature of the Disease ==
If it's possible to get the Blowtorch Fever more than once, how does it come back? Does one get re-infected? Or is it like the Chicken Pox, where you get infected ones, it then stays with you (though you are not infectious anymore) and then there's a possiblility of it reviving itself, like Shingles? Are you always a carrier of the disease if you are once infected with it? [[User:Saber|Saber]]