Bryan: add a "stopped" template since Mintz' user page indicates the story's effectively dead

2007-12-09T02:03:18Z

add a "stopped" template since Mintz' user page indicates the story's effectively dead

← Older revision		Revision as of 21:03, 8 December 2007
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			{{Stopped}}
	{{byline\|name=MintzBuck\| user=MintzBuck}}		{{byline\|name=MintzBuck\| user=MintzBuck}}

Bryan: byline, fix an inadvertant preformatted text paragraph, remove example.jpg, and add sort key

2007-12-09T01:57:08Z

byline, fix an inadvertant preformatted text paragraph, remove example.jpg, and add sort key

← Older revision		Revision as of 20:57, 8 December 2007
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			{{byline\|name=MintzBuck\| user=MintzBuck}}

	Prologue		Prologue

	It all started late in the day of March 6, 2002, or maybe it was closer to the morning of March 7, in a mid-western college town. Ann Arbor, Michigan isn’t really that quiet a place, especially during March Madness, when the home team is in the tournament, but this March was going to be even madder than most. A change was coming, in more ways than one, but no one suspected anything. It was calm, unusually warm for the time of year. Deep in the offices of the sociology department at the University of Michigan, someone was still working deep into the night, studying something unusual, a book, a talisman, a statue? No one knew what started this all. The professor had finally found its secret and was about to unleash its power on the world. He had not clue what he was really doing, his whole life he had secretly studied these things, too scared of what people might think if they knew how he felt about it. The professor had been studying transformation myths in society, what would happen if all of a sudden people started changing, not mentally, but physically. Events had shaped how people thought, sometimes not even permanently, but what he wanted to do would bring an ever lasting to the society that he had been paid to study and teach about for years.		It all started late in the day of March 6, 2002, or maybe it was closer to the morning of March 7, in a mid-western college town. Ann Arbor, Michigan isn’t really that quiet a place, especially during March Madness, when the home team is in the tournament, but this March was going to be even madder than most. A change was coming, in more ways than one, but no one suspected anything. It was calm, unusually warm for the time of year. Deep in the offices of the sociology department at the University of Michigan, someone was still working deep into the night, studying something unusual, a book, a talisman, a statue? No one knew what started this all. The professor had finally found its secret and was about to unleash its power on the world. He had not clue what he was really doing, his whole life he had secretly studied these things, too scared of what people might think if they knew how he felt about it. The professor had been studying transformation myths in society, what would happen if all of a sudden people started changing, not mentally, but physically. Events had shaped how people thought, sometimes not even permanently, but what he wanted to do would bring an ever lasting to the society that he had been paid to study and teach about for years.

	After years of searching, he found what he was looking for, the thing that would allow for the change, make it possible and he was going to lead it. From ancient South America it came, a society that he had neglected to study, he just hadn’t found it that terribly interesting. Anyway, who wanted to get eaten by bugs and mosquitoes trying to find artifacts in the rainforest? Besides, there were plenty of other transformation myths in Greek and Roman and Native North American societies to study, and they offered much more pleasant working conditions. But non the less, this was his best lead. Wanting to keep this a private, personal search, he relied on his own vague translations of the writing, but they seemed to be telling him what he wanted. This would transform him just how he wanted, he wasn’t sure of the form itself, the word wasn’t in his translation guide, but whatever it was would probably be better than human, and cause some kind of stir. What would a single changed individual lead to, would others want to follow (something he figured was a given anyway after years of lurking around groups on the internet), how would those who change be treated, and so on. He was opening the door for people to explore something more in life, that there is more than just being human.		After years of searching, he found what he was looking for, the thing that would allow for the change, make it possible and he was going to lead it. From ancient South America it came, a society that he had neglected to study, he just hadn’t found it that terribly interesting. Anyway, who wanted to get eaten by bugs and mosquitoes trying to find artifacts in the rainforest? Besides, there were plenty of other transformation myths in Greek and Roman and Native North American societies to study, and they offered much more pleasant working conditions. But non the less, this was his best lead. Wanting to keep this a private, personal search, he relied on his own vague translations of the writing, but they seemed to be telling him what he wanted. This would transform him just how he wanted, he wasn’t sure of the form itself, the word wasn’t in his translation guide, but whatever it was would probably be better than human, and cause some kind of stir. What would a single changed individual lead to, would others want to follow (something he figured was a given anyway after years of lurking around groups on the internet), how would those who change be treated, and so on. He was opening the door for people to explore something more in life, that there is more than just being human.

	Over the years, seeing the art and reading the stories he found made him care less and less for being human. Compared to what people had dreamed up, it was down right boring. He wanted to make that true, for himself at least. This was his last best hope, and it was about time to go for it. He didn’t know how it would end, but it really didn’t matter, he didn’t even think about what could go wrong as he read. Only the reader would be changed, as far as he could tell. Which was good, he didn’t want anyone changing who didn’t want to or to have to involve someone else in his little venture.		Over the years, seeing the art and reading the stories he found made him care less and less for being human. Compared to what people had dreamed up, it was down right boring. He wanted to make that true, for himself at least. This was his last best hope, and it was about time to go for it. He didn’t know how it would end, but it really didn’t matter, he didn’t even think about what could go wrong as he read. Only the reader would be changed, as far as he could tell. Which was good, he didn’t want anyone changing who didn’t want to or to have to involve someone else in his little venture.
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	Day 1		Day 1

	It was a typical day, as all days seem to be after a while. Wake up at the same time to the same radio station, same glass of orange juice, read the same web comics. Days never seem special, especially those that end up being way out of the ordinary. I was happy to be out of Thursday Physics early, as usual and have my lunch and head back to my on campus apartment. Not that it was really on campus, being a quarter mile down the road and not even built by the school, but the fries were fresh, so hopefully they wouldn’t cool down too much. A rather large bird swooped around the quad. Not an unusual sight, Canada Geese liked to hang out around on the grassy area framed by the five main buildings on campus. It looked different though, it acted a lot different too. It looked like it was dive-bombing people. I just thought it was proof birds really did try and poop on people’s heads, shrugged it off and went on. I strolled down the walkway, then smack! The damn thing got me. I stumbled a bit, trying to not spill my foot all over the ground and land on it. The thing swooped over me and perched up on the new building, almost looking proud of what it had done, before swooping off to look for something else to occupy its time with, other students. I stood there for a minute; it must have gotten five other people, I hope someone called animal control on that damn thing.		It was a typical day, as all days seem to be after a while. Wake up at the same time to the same radio station, same glass of orange juice, read the same web comics. Days never seem special, especially those that end up being way out of the ordinary. I was happy to be out of Thursday Physics early, as usual and have my lunch and head back to my on campus apartment. Not that it was really on campus, being a quarter mile down the road and not even built by the school, but the fries were fresh, so hopefully they wouldn’t cool down too much. A rather large bird swooped around the quad. Not an unusual sight, Canada Geese liked to hang out around on the grassy area framed by the five main buildings on campus. It looked different though, it acted a lot different too. It looked like it was dive-bombing people. I just thought it was proof birds really did try and poop on people’s heads, shrugged it off and went on. I strolled down the walkway, then smack! The damn thing got me. I stumbled a bit, trying to not spill my foot all over the ground and land on it. The thing swooped over me and perched up on the new building, almost looking proud of what it had done, before swooping off to look for something else to occupy its time with, other students. I stood there for a minute; it must have gotten five other people, I hope someone called animal control on that damn thing.

	I set down my food for a second and adjusted my jacket, the damn thing hand bitten through it and me. That was just what I needed, a bird bite on my right shoulder about where the strap of my backpack normally sat. With my lunch in hand, and backpack over one shoulder I continued on. That was going to need some attention, hydrogen peroxide, triple antibiotic cream, and a band aide would do nicely. When I got back to my seventh floor apartment, I checked it out. Good, barely a scratch, no stitches, no need to waist my time at a hospital. All fixed up I turned to my lunch; it was a bit jumbled, but not much worse for wear than normal. With plenty of time until my next class, I kicked back and checked on some news on the Internet. Same old same old, though there were a couple people missing in Ann Arbor, they probably just got drunk and wandered off somewhere. They’d show up in a couple days and all would be right with the world.		I set down my food for a second and adjusted my jacket, the damn thing hand bitten through it and me. That was just what I needed, a bird bite on my right shoulder about where the strap of my backpack normally sat. With my lunch in hand, and backpack over one shoulder I continued on. That was going to need some attention, hydrogen peroxide, triple antibiotic cream, and a band aide would do nicely. When I got back to my seventh floor apartment, I checked it out. Good, barely a scratch, no stitches, no need to waist my time at a hospital. All fixed up I turned to my lunch; it was a bit jumbled, but not much worse for wear than normal. With plenty of time until my next class, I kicked back and checked on some news on the Internet. Same old same old, though there were a couple people missing in Ann Arbor, they probably just got drunk and wandered off somewhere. They’d show up in a couple days and all would be right with the world.
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	With the lab over I headed back down the road to go home. I hadn’t seen it on my way to class, but there seemed to be a small flock of birds hanging around. All slightly different, swooping at whom ever passed by. They just kind of watched me, as if to know I had already been taken care of. Something ran past me. What the heck? Why on earth had someone let their dog loose on campus? It took off down the road, probably just heading home. I stopped around where I had been attacked earlier and looked back at the birds perched along the top of the Engineering building. It was eerie, just sitting there, four birds, all of them were different species. Animal control must be backed up or something, because in the middle sat that first one, some kind of a bizarre goose. How the hell did that thing manage to bite through a jacket and shirt? I shrugged it off and continued on, the bite itching more now. It seemed to get worse with each step; I was going to have to check it again once I got back to my apartment.		With the lab over I headed back down the road to go home. I hadn’t seen it on my way to class, but there seemed to be a small flock of birds hanging around. All slightly different, swooping at whom ever passed by. They just kind of watched me, as if to know I had already been taken care of. Something ran past me. What the heck? Why on earth had someone let their dog loose on campus? It took off down the road, probably just heading home. I stopped around where I had been attacked earlier and looked back at the birds perched along the top of the Engineering building. It was eerie, just sitting there, four birds, all of them were different species. Animal control must be backed up or something, because in the middle sat that first one, some kind of a bizarre goose. How the hell did that thing manage to bite through a jacket and shirt? I shrugged it off and continued on, the bite itching more now. It seemed to get worse with each step; I was going to have to check it again once I got back to my apartment.

	I dropped my backpack and started to work on a lap report, having completely forgotten about my little wound. Half way through it, the bite started to itch again. I just decided to wait until I was done with the report to even bother; it was probably just the scab forming over it anyway. As I printed the lab report out, it took three tries because the ink head dries out easily, my shirt felt strange. I could feel my shirt, but not directly, like how you feel a jacket over a t-shirt, disconnected, it moved too easily over my shoulder. Now that wasn’t right. Quickly, I attached papers together with my shark stapler and headed for the bathroom.		I dropped my backpack and started to work on a lap report, having completely forgotten about my little wound. Half way through it, the bite started to itch again. I just decided to wait until I was done with the report to even bother; it was probably just the scab forming over it anyway. As I printed the lab report out, it took three tries because the ink head dries out easily, my shirt felt strange. I could feel my shirt, but not directly, like how you feel a jacket over a t-shirt, disconnected, it moved too easily over my shoulder. Now that wasn’t right. Quickly, I attached papers together with my shark stapler and headed for the bathroom.

	I didn’t really expect to see anything unusual; it probably just broke a nerve or something. With the door closed for privacy, I pulled my shirt off; it almost felt like it was getting caught on something under it, over my shoulder. Something was definitely NOT right. Man, what’s going on here, I gulped and took a look. There was indeed something strange going on. A tuft of iridescent green feathers stuck out from the skin, a few rows of them poked from my shoulder and arm. Oddly enough, they looked like they belonged there; they sat smoothly against my flesh, small bumps sat around them, some with small quills sticking out of them. A large portion of my back looked liked a plucked chicken.		I didn’t really expect to see anything unusual; it probably just broke a nerve or something. With the door closed for privacy, I pulled my shirt off; it almost felt like it was getting caught on something under it, over my shoulder. Something was definitely NOT right. Man, what’s going on here, I gulped and took a look. There was indeed something strange going on. A tuft of iridescent green feathers stuck out from the skin, a few rows of them poked from my shoulder and arm. Oddly enough, they looked like they belonged there; they sat smoothly against my flesh, small bumps sat around them, some with small quills sticking out of them. A large portion of my back looked liked a plucked chicken.
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	The weekend started at ten a.m., as it usually did for me. I looked over at the clock, lying there on my belly. I blinked a bit; I could actually read it’s blue numbers. My eyes had been so bad I couldn’t read the think from two feet away, now the numbers were crisp, even more so than when I had my contacts in. I wasn’t going to miss having glasses and contact lenses.		The weekend started at ten a.m., as it usually did for me. I looked over at the clock, lying there on my belly. I blinked a bit; I could actually read it’s blue numbers. My eyes had been so bad I couldn’t read the think from two feet away, now the numbers were crisp, even more so than when I had my contacts in. I wasn’t going to miss having glasses and contact lenses.

			{{DEFAULTSORT:Catalyst, The}}

	[[Category:Story]][[Category:MintzBuck]]		[[Category:Story]][[Category:MintzBuck]]

MintzBuck: New page: Prologue It all started late in the day of March 6, 2002, or maybe it was closer to the morning of March 7, in a mid-western college town. Ann Arbor, Michigan isn’t really that quiet a ...

2007-12-08T21:45:21Z

New page: Prologue It all started late in the day of March 6, 2002, or maybe it was closer to the morning of March 7, in a mid-western college town. Ann Arbor, Michigan isn’t really that quiet a ...

Show changes

The Catalyst - Revision history

Bryan: add a "stopped" template since Mintz' user page indicates the story's effectively dead

Bryan: byline, fix an inadvertant preformatted text paragraph, remove example.jpg, and add sort key

MintzBuck: New page: Prologue It all started late in the day of March 6, 2002, or maybe it was closer to the morning of March 7, in a mid-western college town. Ann Arbor, Michigan isn’t really that quiet a ...