I finished the final review of the current chapter, saved it, duped it to DVD, and leaned back, purring. The new book was coming along very well, with the pictures from a new area of the NAR I hadn't been to before. I got up from the pad I have in front of the computer I use to write on, then got in a good stretch to relieve the stress. I enjoyed the writing, but was really looking forward to going back to the wilderness next month.
I finished the final review of the current chapter, saved it, duped it to DVD, and leaned back, purring. The new book was coming along very well, with the pictures from a new area of the NAR I hadn't been to before. I got up from the pad I have in front of the computer I use to write on, then got in a good stretch to relieve the stress. I enjoyed the writing, but was really looking forward to going back to the wilderness next month.
Revision as of 21:32, 5 October 2007
{{#if:|}}
[[Image:{{{icon}}}|30px|center|Icon]]
This page contains the entire setup and story for a collaboration/round-robin story set in the Pig and Whistle universe. As much as Little Things is the opening story in the universe, this is intended to fill in some details of the universe and as the "opening salvo" - ie: it's what is intended to introduce Pig and Whistle to TSA-Talk. The participants are Devin Hallsworth, ShadowWolf, Michael Bard, Felix, Cubist and Arrow Quivershaft.
The Pig and Whistle universe is open and this collaboration is just one story using the setting. Feel free to read the Pig and Whistle universe guidelines and write your own stories!
Call me crazy, if you want. Here I am wearing a full fur coat during one of the hottest summers since the Collapse. But I can't just take it off - that fur coat is part of me, just as the muzzle and ears are part of me. Yep, I'm a teefer - one of the numerous sufferers of the disease known as "Transformative Failure of Ontogenetic Regulation". In this case the transformation left me with a matte-black fur coat and all kinds of other features normally only found on a member of Canis Lupis or Canis Familiaris.
Sure, it's made me immortal - I haven't aged a day since the aptly named "blowtorch fever" progressed into TFOR and left me the walking, talking fur-coat I am today. Sure, it's a hard life, I changed during the height of the collapse, before Canada invaded, so I've had a long time to get over any mental problems I may have had. Yeah, that did take a long time.
{{#if:k|{{#if:|
{{{2}}}
|
}}|
}}
I opened the door to the "Pig and Whistle" and waved to Gordy as I crossed the floor, heading for my normal table. There was one figure seated already - and the insulating suit was the only thing I needed to know who it was.
"Hey Hephy! Wish I'd had you on site today. Idiot I was working with seemed to barely know which end of the torch to point at the wires." His name's Alex, but there are so many nicknames that have gotten attached to him its pitiful.
"Your usual, Scott?" Gordies almost subsonic bass rumbled across the room to me.
"You know it!" I yelled back as I took a seat across the table from Alex.
Knowing that I couldn't have been only the second of my usual group of drinking buddies to arrive I sniffed the air. It carried all the normal scents of the bar, but there was the distinct undercurrent of something else - an animal that shouldn't be in the bar itself but often was. So I looked up into the exposed beams of the trestle roof and caught a glimpse of brown fur and black-striped tail. That'd be Coati - don't know what her name was before TFOR got her (or even if she started life as a female), but us teefers are a hardy bunch. Her only problem is that she's all but given up on life - her fur is nasty, matted and uncared for and she is scrawny, as if she doesn't get enough to eat.
But that doesn't stop me from being her friend. With the torch and the collapse having consumed an estimated fifty percent of the worlds population we've got to stick together. At least we aren't persecuted…Well, at least not here in Polyton County, New York—I faced my share of small minded idiots during the war that destroyed the "New Confederacy" and made it part of the NAR.
But that's besides the point. If things hold true to form Coati will stay up in the rafters until the other two members of our tiny group of friends shows up. And no, we aren't all teefers—Susanna Douglas, our groups youngest (we think) is still human, even though she does testing of leg prosthetics made for teefers. If she ever comes down with TFOR, I'm hoping that it's kind to her and she gets her legs back. A healing power would be a nice bonus for her—seeing as she lost her legs before she graduated high school.
"Well..." I started to say something, because I didn't know when the rest of our group would show. Dashiel was in town, but as much work as he does on those documentaries of his means I can't be certain of when he'll get here, and Susanna would probably be the next person through the doors—if she wasn't over in the Hotel talking to one of the teefers that had benefited from the prosthetics testing she does.
"How's life treating you, Tuvok?" Don't worry if you don't get that nickname of Alex's. It refers to a pre-collapse TV show—the character Tuvok looked to be of African descent, but was an alien from the planet Vulcan. And Vulcan was the Roman name for the Greek God Hephaestus—fitting moniker for a guy that looks like a living pile of lava, no?
{{#if:k|{{#if:Susanna|
Susanna
|}}|}}
Normally I can hold a good pace and reach anywhere in the city on foot in less than three hours and I like jogging so I do this a lot. Not that I have too many appointments out on the city limits.
Normally however my computer firewall catches most of the viruses out there before they get into my computer or worse, into my legs. I dont even know who in the hell would design a virus to target people who have leg prosthetics but it pisses me off.
Reinstalling the OS was a pain but didnt take any more than five to ten minutes. The real pain would be getting the software reconditioned to not only my gait but to some of my dance moves. Walking is one thing, backflips? Nuhuh, forget it.
"Hey Kimberly?" I said, calling up my teacher at the dance studio. "I got a virus and my prosthetics are completly wiped. It'll take me a week just to get them to recognize my hip movements properly, I dont even want to think about stressing them with anything else until they get used to the normal stuff again."
She understood. Well of course she does. A student with two prosthetic legs calls in and tells you she cant come in to practice because she has to relearn walking what are you going to say? Not that she needs to say anything. A dance tournament coming up in a month and this would effectivley cut my practice time in half. If I dont place in the top three I dont get any cash. If I dont get any cash I am living off macaroni and cheese for a month.
BLEH!!
{{#if:k|{{#if:|
{{{2}}}
|
}}|
}}
Times like this I wish I hadn't had to sell my old human style prosthetics. My parents had to pay for them after that crash. When I was sixteen I couldnt even tell you what the hell a transfemoral amputation was. Seventeen to eighteen I was relearning to walk with steel and elastomer legs that started just shy of my hips.
Not that I missed them, they were a hand me down from the mid twentys and were embarasingly clunky. But when your legs are vunerable to stuff like computer viruses you begin to appreciate how handy it can be to have a second pair around the place.
I suppose I could get a job at a burger joint or something, stop spending eight hours a day with my routines at the dance studio. I'm not even really sure how far I can take dancing professionally, as it stands now I make enough from competition wins and tutoring to cover some of my rent and most of my food expenses. But if it wasn't for the job I got testing out leg prosthetics for teefers I wouldn't have any other choice but to.. oh what was it my mother said last time I visited? Oh yes 'Get real' with my life.
Too illustrate how likely that is too happen. Here is what in my imagination would be a brief montage of me tackling a flight of stairs with digitigrade legs ending in hooves set to some music from a Benny Hill skit. Ow...
{{#if:k|{{#if:|
{{{2}}}
|
}}|
}}
Wake up at seven am.
Discover legs are gimped. Use profanity.
Eight am to two pm.
Walk around a park on a fairly good side of town so I dont have to worry about running away from any potential muggers while I reteach the computers in my legs my mannerisms.
Three to five pm
Attempt at jogging.
Five thirty pm.
Face plant into pavement. MUCH profanity. Call it a day.
Five thirty to six thirty pm.
Slow paced walk to local bar.
Six thirty pm.
"Hey Goordy. Can I get a water and some tylenol?" I ask as I walk over to my ussual table. Some of the gang is already here. I cheer myself up by tormenting one of them, what are friends for?
I make as if blowing warmth into my hands as Scott and Alex look up. I wave at them and walk over to Alex, putting my hands lightly on the outside of his insulation suit. "Ahhhh.. thats better." I say with a grin before taking my now fairly warm hands off his helmet type deal. I sit down and without missing a beat he quips.
"Its hard to keep the women off you when your this hot."
A shitty day always gets better around friends.
{{#if:k|{{#if:Coati|
Coati
|}}|}}
Getting up after a long afternoon nap, I poked my muzzle out and sniffed the darkness. Hmph. Draft. Have to mention to Gordie there's a hole up here somewhere. Somewhere below a small clock finished dinging. Sometimes I hated these damn ears, but far too many times they'd saved me from more pain. Not that I didn't deserve it.
I refused to go down there. Not tonight. One night a week ever since that brat Arrow dragged us into that game of his. What was it? AGILD. Stupid waste of time. Never hurt to humour the kid though. Keep a bit of light in this fucked world.
It didn't take long for me to wiggle along the rafter, trying not to scratch it too much, and down the little hole in the back. Kept it in the shadows, had a cover for it in the winter. Kept the bar patrons happy. I kept the rodents down, Gordie got a cleaner place, and everybody was happy. The wood squelched easily under my claws as I pulled myself up and onto the top of a rafter. Always liked the sweet scent of new wood I clawed along.
Ah, there they are. Just Scott and Alex. Drat, Scott noticed me. So much for my usual surprise. So I sat down and waited, cleaning my tattered whiskers. Not sure why I cared, they'd just grow back anyway. Pretzels were lots, just not anything living. Local cats loved me, what with all the dead mice and rats I left out for them.
Huh, there's Suzanne now. Who'd have guessed? What the fuck happened to her? Even though I couldn't smell it, knew she wouldn't do it, she walked like a drunk. If something wrong with her legs, why come in? We're not that important.
A virus? A fucking virus. Jesus fucking Christ. What the hell is this world coming to?
I jumped down from the rafter and thumped on the table. A stab of pain shows I broke a toe, or an ankle. Don't know anymore, don't care. 'Voder was fine -- it could be hit by a nuke and keep working. They'd tested that once. Hissing and clicking, I began my lecture Susan really needed:
"He's too hot for you Susan. It would be a steamy romance, a scalding honeymoon, and then a slow cookery of a marriage. But, I do have to say something-- You'd think by now that stupid bitches would know enough to make backups."
She stared, yanked out of her fucking self pity. She has no idea what self pity is.
"Oh come on! Don't look at me like that. None of you. I though there were more than three brain cells here." I turned back to Susan. "You've got a firewall so you know the fucking things exist. Remember when they upgraded to Internet 2.0? Said it would stop viruses and spammers? Lasted less than two days as I recall. You must have something for when an upgrade fucks the legs up worse than they were. Oh come on! Jesus, Darwin's having a fucking field day--
"Look. I hate virus writers as much as any of you. Maybe more. I have no clue who gets their jollies out of crippling cripples. Hell, the bastard is probably at a bar right now, drinking with his idiot buddies and bragging about how many cripples he's sealed in their homes. I just hope the cripples have basic care setup -- otherwise they could be stranded in a lonely apartment, and slowly starve to death because they can't afford basic medical care in today's fucked up society and universal health went down with Canada.
"If you find any, you let me know. I've got a particularly vicious way to make the bastards die. Until then, all we can do is take precautions and live with it. Because, god knows, there'll always be somebody who finds a way to get through anything."
"Just how many ways can a raccoon viciously kill someone? NO! No wait, on second thought don't tell me."
If only she knew--
With that she smirked and threws back her tylenol and some water. "Its not as bad as it sounds anyway," she continued. "The basic OS unconfigured for an individual biped can get you too the door or the phone at the very least. But yes a backup would have been nice this morning."
"Fucking right. And you won't not have one again, will you? Though so." I hopped over and grabbed a pretzel. "Hey Gordie, where's my Guiness?"
{{#if:k|{{#if:Scott|
Scott
|}}|}}
Would you believe I remember the release of the first dual-core processors? True, it wasn't that long ago - only thirty years or so, but I was in college when it happened. And before you make some smart-ass comment, Coati... Yes, I did go to college. The Collapse ruined that for me - I was a year away from a Masters in Engineering. Back then I was what you'd call a "Pacifist" - I didn't thing violence or war solved anything. But when the dorms were hit by one of the roving loot-gangs, well...
I was raised on a farm. I'd never been a small person—bailing hay and other farm-work builds a lot of muscle. They killed people that had surrendered, and that was the last thing I needed to see to know that the only way to combat violence is with violence. So I joined the new Pennsylvania National Guard - that is, the Pennsylvania National Army - and went into training a few months later. Then, in December 2010, a week before I was due to head out and start defending the borders I came down with the Torch. When I came to I was assigned to the second special operations company.
Anyway... New technology is a wonderful thing. A sign that humanity, at least, is back on track towards the future that was a large part of the entertainment of the Twentieth Century. Look at this table - a complete, three-dimensional display! I'd read articles in magazines about the early work done on these before the collapse, but who would have imagined that the decade halt in scientific progress that the fever and collapse caused would lead to leaps of technology like this?
But, just like before the collapse, technology hits the market before all but the nastiest of bugs are fixed. And Suze, if I didn't know better I'd swear your legs were running Windows. But these days, even with the maturity of the BSD's and Linux the OS people are lagging so far behind the assholes who write viruses that its pitiful. Thirty years ago I'd have laughed if you told me that Linux viruses would be widespread. Now? Well... I guess it's all just backlash because of how MS killed itself with all that registration bullshit that they built into their operating systems before the collapse. When the MS servers were stolen or destroyed during the riots their fate was sealed.
Still... I often wonder if the virus problems aren't because the people that best understood the source code to the various operating systems died in the collapse. But then, it could just be because all the manpower that used to focus on exploiting Windows is now focused on the OS's we use on everything where they used to be ignored. Hell, I don't know...
{{#if:k|{{#if:Dash|
Dash
|}}|}}
I finished the final review of the current chapter, saved it, duped it to DVD, and leaned back, purring. The new book was coming along very well, with the pictures from a new area of the NAR I hadn't been to before. I got up from the pad I have in front of the computer I use to write on, then got in a good stretch to relieve the stress. I enjoyed the writing, but was really looking forward to going back to the wilderness next month.
You'd think that living in a basement would give trouble, but for a den dweller like me, the somewhat cramped space felt right. The building super knew where my place was, and left the area alone. The somewhat primitive toilet and water supply met my needs, and the shelves outside the entrance kept my research materials close enough at hand without crowding. The computer, a small kitchen, my sleeping nest, and a couple of chairs for human friends was all there was in here. Comfy, as I said.
I licked a hand/paw and washed my face, thinking. The next chapter...how to set it up to flow. I continued my toilet, letting my bodies instincts carry on while I blocked out the chapter in my mind. Sometimes, being a cat has advantages. I'd been a Canadian Lynx for enough years to have gotten used to it - if a human ever can. I drifted into a semi-sleeping state, and remembered...
{{#if:k|{{#if:|
|
}}|
}}
I'd been out on a wilderness trip when the Torch hit me for the third time - and I Changed. Thank God there was a trained nurse along on vacation; when she recognized the symptoms of change starting, she called an airevac and got me to a hospital in time to survive. It had taken a while to get used to the changes, and figure ways around the worst features. Retaining my hands and some flexibility in the shoulders at least allowed me to write, and the speech specialist I'd found had fitted me with an artificial palate, allowing me to speak almost normally. So far, I hadn't found any 'powers' like some of my friends had, but, being a lynx I could be incredibly stealthy.
The first time I'd been out to the wilderness after the change, I found that, with care, I could sneak up on a deer and touch it before the deer knew I was there! I'd invested in a video cam and solid state recorder with a huge memory and had it installed on a collar mount aimed to 'see' between my ears. When I showed that video and other footage I'd taken while prowling the woods to some of my Green friends they about went crazy! They called in people from a wildlife network, and when they saw the videos, they offered me a job as a stringer on the spot. I was in heaven, being paid to do what I'd always loved, walk the wilderness!
When the network people saw what I could do, and heard my commentaries on the videos, they saw a chance to beat out their hated rival show, and offered me a position as a Host as well, recording my comments on the types of animal I was going to show them, and then adding an audio track to my hunts. I'd climb a tree and get video of rabbits and other small animals just living, something the human crew could only do at a distance with a long lens, but I was far closer, being a part of the environment as they never could. Before long, I was a real Star, recognized and accepted wherever I went. And my books sold too! I could plan my own trips, and go wherever I wanted.
{{#if:k|{{#if:|
|
}}|
}}
Something was bothering my catnap though, and I couldn't figure what it was. I sighed and came fully awake, then looked at the clock - almost seven. What in the world was my subconscious nagging me about? Then it hit me - Game night! And I was late! I scrambled around and grabbed a pair of clean shorts, struggled into them, them fastened the buttons. I snatched up my belt and got it on, then shot out the entrance to my den and flew across the basement to the stairs at a dead run!
Up the steps, through the 'cat door' and across the kitchen at a blur, then into the lobby, a skidding turn, and headed down the hall to the Pig and Whistle. I slowed before coming to the door and took a moment to catch my breath. Then, according to the Cat Code, I sauntered through the door and over to the table. I jumped up to my normal seat, took a moment to wash my face (got to look cool before my friends, after all!) then fumbled in my belt pouch for my false palate, got it seated to my satisfaction, then found and inserted my game thumb drive. Everyone was there already, so I said, "Good evening! Arrr we rrready to play?" and listened to them laughing with a smile.
Characters
"Coati"
(Bard's character)
Age: Unknown
Species: Female coati (non-morphic, normal sized - 25" long including tail, about 5kg)/organized colony of non-differentiated cells (think "The Thing")
Powers: After consuming 100 grams or so of a creature, can form a cocoon and grow into a duplicate as long as it is roughly the same mass, or smaller. If not, will need time to get the mass. The cocoon lasts from 2-8 weeks. Cannot be killed unless ALL cells are destroyed (fire, electricity, acid, some poisons). Losing cells causes some loss of memory/knowledge as information is stored in various cells with various levels of duplication depending on importance. This power is NOT generally known.
Looks very disreputable and battered. Fur is scruffy, some is missing, very thin and malnourished, wild look in her eyes. She doesn't talk much about the details of her past. Something occurred that haunts her, and she wants to forget but can't (alcohol doesn't affect her).
She's a regular at the bar. Nobody knows where she lives, speculation is under the roof or some other appropriately small lair. She has employment of some kind. Note that she does not spread around the fact that she has powers, though she has been different species once or twice, staying so for a long time. The fact that she's been different species does come up regularly in conversation -- she just doesn't comment further. She's been a coati for the last five years.
Susanna Douglas
(Devin's character)
Age: 26
Species: Human
Susanna Douglas or 'Sue' as she prefers to be called is a student and part time tutor at a dance studio in town. This fact is not unusual in itself until you consider that at the age of seventeen when riding home from a party with her friends she lost her legs in a car crash.
Her injuries required a transfemoral amputation of both legs,(cut above the knees) but left the rest of her body intact. Before the turn of the century or even at the very beginning of it such an injury would have left her wheelchair bound for the rest of her life but with the middle east and post collapse wars of the time came a new wave of investment and research into the field of prosthetics. Today thanks to advances in elastomers capable of matching the performance of organic muscle tissue and small yet highly advanced computers that can predict what motions the user will be going through and compensate Sue isn't just able to walk, she has competed in at least three dance tournaments.
After a few years of getting used to the human model and realizing that she needed a bit more stable of an income Sue got in with a local prosthetics company to test out a transfemoral prosthesis for Teefers as the company had been unable to find any Teefer transfemoral amputees to test their designs with. Her current prosthesis is based on a common leg design that occurs in many mammal Teefers http://deer.transform.to/SL/FullFox.jpg but with hooves instead of paws in order to provide more traction. As the prosthetics she is currently using have not yet been refined for commercial use they do not have a synthetic skin over top the actual leg and resemble similar prototype prosthetics from the beginning of the century instead of an actual furred leg as they will when they are put on the market. http://www.engadget.com/2007/08/24/festos-fluidic-muscles-make-us-all-look-weak/
Robert Gallian
(Arrow's character)
Age: 25
Species: Nonanthro Red-Tailed Hawk. Incapable of speech, no outwards human features.
Powers: Weak Telepathy(One way at ranges of up to 50 feet, becoming progressively weaker with range beyond 20 feet; two way only with total concentration and at no more than 10 feet), Weak Telekinesis(No more than 1 kilogram, range of 5 feet, at a range of 1 foot or less, can grip and hold objects decently enough to write shakily.)
Details pending.
Alexander Henninger
(Cubist's character)
Age: 37
Species: Altered human
TFOR-derived traits: TFOR seems to have inflicted on Alex many of the metabolic quirks of an exceptionally high-temperature-tolerant extremophile. As a result of these changes, Alex has a stable body temperature of a bit over 190° Fahrenheit. It is unclear whether or not Alex still ages in the usual manner.
Appearance: Alex is a 5'11" tall humanoid; he weighs 425 lbs, but given his overall body type/build, he looks like he's not an ounce over 180 lbs. His skin is not unlike solidified slag; it's rough, craggy, and black. That's chromatic-black, not skin-tone-black. He has no hair. His eyes are solid red, and they can be seen to glow faintly when the ambient lighting is sufficiently weak.
Alex was an undistinguished hardware specialist when he came down with a case of 'the torch'. Unlike most victims of blowtorch fever, Alex never cooled down; rather, over a period of two weeks his temperature just kept climbing until it leveled off at 193 degrees. Alex must now wear an insulated body suit at all times. This suit serves two purposes: First, it prevents him from causing second-degree-burns to any normal person who inadvertently comes in contact with him. Second, the body suit ensures that Alex does not freeze to death in what others regard as normal temperature.
Alex's condition can be considered helpful to his profession, inasmuch as he can melt solder in his bare hands; by the same token, however, he must be careful about where he touches circuit boards and such.
Scott Summers Jameson
(ShadowWolf's character)
Age: 35
Species: Wolf
Fur: Black
Powers: Slow aging, creation and projection of balls of plasma
About 2 meters tall with matte black fur (a true black - it doesn't show up dark purple under any light like most does) he was employed by PPL (Pennsylvania Power and Light) as a lineman before the collapse. Six months into the collapse he was admitted into the hospital in the opening stages of blowtorch fever. Leaving the hospital after the completion of his change he joined the Pennsylvania National Guard and was rapidly promoted to Sergeant and transferred into their new special operations unit. When the Canadian Army invaded his unit did a lot of damage before receiving orders to stand down, because the 'Commonwealth of Pennsylvania' was joining Canada.
Dashiel Peters
(Felix's Character)
Age - 34
Species: Canadian Lynx Has stubby hand/paws, and more than normal flexibility in the shoulders. Looks like the real cat. Uses a false palate to talk clearly.
Powers: non known (yet)
Dash peters had the torch three times before changing. He is a passionate Green, and does a wildlife TV show as the host for a living. He's also a writer of wildlife books, with several to his credit. His show combines images shot with his collar cam with tracking shots done by a human crew. Dash lives when in town in a lair/den in the hotel. He wears shorts for modesty in town, and a belt which carries a number of accessories. When in town, he's a regular at the bar, although he has to drink from a bowl.
During the Collapse, was an enlisted man in the U. S. Navy overseas. When the Navy was absorbed by the NAR, returned home and went to school, gaining a BA in Forestry.
"You'd think stupid bitches would know enough to make backups. Oh come on! Don't look at me like that. You've got a firewall so you know they exist. Remember when they upgraded to Internet 2.0? Said it would stop viruses and spammers? Lasted less than two days as I recall.
"Look. I hate virus writers as much as any of you. Maybe more. I have no clue who gets their jollies out of crippling cripples. Hell, the bastard is probably at a bar right now, drinking with his idiot buddies and bragging about how many cripples he's sealed in their homes. I just hope the cripples have basic care setup -- otherwise they could be stranded in a lonely apartment, and slowly starve to death because they can't afford basic medical care in today's fucked up society and universal health went down with Canada.
"If you find any, you let me know. I've got a particularly vicious way to make the bastards die. Until then, all we can do is take precautions and live with it. Because, god knows, there'll always be somebody who finds a way to get through everything."
On Flight
Fumbling around at her matted fur, she pulled out a battered microphone and begin making what sounded like croaks and hisses into it. It didn't take long for her more familiar voice to work its way out of her voder.
"Yea, flying has its moments. But then, everybody knows about the freedom, the power. What was that book somebody wrote-- A Gull's Life-- Anyway, there are other things.
"I'm sure you've ran into them. Stupid bastards so full of their own importance that they're always right. And then there are those who's car has to always be perfect. Spotless. Absolutely pristine.
"Ran into one of those idiots when I was a raven. Brought back too many memories of minimum wage crap jobs. Especially those involving gas pumping and spending half an hour scrubbing the bird crap off a window because the bastard's too cheap to pay a carwash to do it."
The coati clasped her paws together.
"Too long a life, too many bad memories. But leading an entire flock, technically an unkindness, and painting the bastards car white was priceless.
"He just got caught in the fallout you might say."
She looked around, tapping a hind paw on the table, awaiting the expected reaction.
On Government
"Government? Pah! The only reason I'm not all for anarchy these days is that modern weapons are too destructive. Hell, I'm all for making up a Colossus and letting him worry about it. Keep a trained army in reserve in cryogenic storage, and bring it out when needed. Otherwise, let happen what may. Can't be any worse than what we got now.
"The only smart thing government's ever done is when the got rid of the old income tax as their records were all bummed up. Of course, it took them all of 6 months after finishing paying for WW1 to re-institute income tax to pay for Teefer Recover. If figure that'll take till 2400 or so.
"As to local government, pah! Only worthwhile one I ever heard of was pre-torch Toronto. They got amalgamated and the new city council was so big that all they could do was argue and debate, year after year. Pass laws? Never! Their salaries were worth it just because it kept them busy and not doing anything. Instead private enterprise took over the void and now Toronto's one of the most beautiful and most wealthy cities in the NAR.
"I just say go with Heinlein. Select people at random and e-mail them laws to debate and vote on. No monetary remuneration involved. Drag them kicking and screaming and they can get the job done and then go away."
On Gun Control in the NAR
Holding the microphone upside down and shaking some of that foul smelling liquid she was drinking out of it, she tapped it and hissed into it.
"Testing-- testing-- damn cheap tech. Anyway, you were talking about Texas. I was down there once, just after the wars. Damn suspicious bastards, didn't trust anybody then. Shoot first, ask questions later. So I'm sneaking around, not spying or anything, just don't trust men with guns. It's a girl thing.
"And stop that sniggering!
"You ever been shot at? Felt bullets hissing across your back? Felt, not hate, but just uncaring annoyance directed at you? It's not pleasant, let me tell you. I was young and foolish then, just trying to find a rat or something to eat. Let me tell you, buckshot through the backside hurts like a son of a bitch! Still now sure how I dragged myself to someplace safe to heal. He'd probably have torched me otherwise.
"So don't you joke about guns, not around me! Canadian gun laws are the best thing that ever happened to us. What the hell need is there for concealed pistols to defend personal liberty anyway? And now they want to register teefer powers? I'm all for it."
She took a drink and a few vapours wisped from her nostrils.
Mumbling something to herself, the microphone still picked it up and the voder translated: "*crackle* memories-- always *hiss* always--"
On Immortality
She sat there, staring past and through us. Her voice, even through her 'voder was cold and emotionless.
"Have you ever wondered," she began, not talking to us even though we were all listening, "what it would be like to live forever. To be cursed with your regrets, your hates, the things you always try to forget but never can, forever. For all time. To watch all your friends, even your enemies, turn to dust and vanish, lost in time as your memory of them fades and vanishes as if it never were? To stand there, on the sand-filled beach of eternity watching humanity die, watching the animals, the plants die. To stand there on an empty beach of dust as the moon moves away, smaller and smaller. As the sun grows dimmer and larger, hotter and redder year by year.
"To be there on the beach at the end of time when the Time Traveller appears, freshly escaped from the Morlocks, knowing that he can go back, but you never can?
"And it will only end when the sun expands, and the oceans boil, and the atmosphere is blasted away by Sol. Only then will the pain finally stop in blissful nonexistence."
Turning away she took a long draw on her drink.
End of the Night for Coati
"Hey Coati, Phone for you," Gordie boomed out.
Who would call Coati, and here?
She hissed into the microphone. "Ack in a bite." God alone knew what the concoction was she was dripping on the microphone. Some nights she seemed to have a death wish. At least she wasn't too bad tonight. Some nights--
I took a sip and watched her click and claw her way up the rafter and along one of the beams, jumping down by the phone Gordie was holding out to her.
"Just be glad I'm a nice guy and let you use my number," Gordie said.
She just mumbled something, and fiddled with the thing. Must have screwed up the volume as we could hear everything she said.
"This better be important, I've told you--"
"What? The quality isn't good enough? Given what we've spent on the damn 'voder--"
"The backers? Jesus, I told you to have them sign--"
"Yea, you needed the funding. Fine. What--"
"You want to fly me down? Fuck! At this time of night?"
"You know as well as I do that there is no detectable difference in the sound quality." Her voice changed into a high squeaky child's sound. "This is so cute! Even on this wonderment of tech over this amazing phone line you can hear how happy I am!" She was literally bouncing in place.
God, she sounded like the happiest child on earth. It was almost terrifying.
Her voice changed back to normal. "Fine. You have the flight set up, not just a third class parcel with air and water? When is it?"
She turned away from the phone. "Hey Gordie, what time is it?"
Gordie just looked at her. "Almost 10. You know you got the volume cranked way up?"
She blinked, and looked around at the bar, all looking at her. "Fuck. The things I do to try and make up for--"
She fiddled with the thing and we couldn't hear anymore. A few minute later she managed to lug the headset and hang it up -- sometimes the muscles she had on that scrawny frame surprised me. "Sorry guys, gotta go."
Scotts Snippets
On the "New Confederacy"
I never agreed with the decision to invade and annex the New Confederacy. And my reasoning is simple - I remembered the history I'd learned in school, and had taken a few "American History" classes in college. The "American Civil War" had such far reaching and long lasting consequences that the end of them hadn't been seen more than a hundred years later. With the even heavier arming of both sides - and the level of training on both sides - I couldn't see the war with the New Confederacy being as easy as the politicians claimed, nor would it end when the politicians signed their treaties.
Sure, there was some really nasty shit going on in there, but the way I saw it was that it wouldn't be that way if the people didn't want it that way. But I wasn't a politician - I was a grunt. What's that old phrase... Yeah, "Cry havoc and loose the dogs of war!" That was me and my men - literally. The name of my company was "The Dogs of War", though more than one general called us "Havok's Hound's"... Must have been comic-book fans - my name 'Scott Summers Jameson' is quite similar to the name of an old comic book character - Cyclops. His brother was "Alex Summers" was Havok, and "Havok's Hounds" has a ring to it.
Anyway, there were only a few times when I was happy to have been in fights with the New Confederacy. One of those was when I found a "Teefer Slave Camp" - literally a camp where they broke teefers wills so they could be sold as slave labor. The other time was when we stumbled into the staging area for a Tank Division just before the Battle of Atlanta. They were in the underground level of a parking garage - and opened fire before I could let them know that I was going to let them go. After all, I didn't agree with the war and had done the same thing a number of times.
The first barrage hit Jennifer Long, a feline morph of some sort that had a hyped-up healing power. She was the first and last soldier I lost, and it almost drove me mad - we'd been discussing marriage after the war at breakfast that day. I don't remember the battle all that well, but I do remember that I didn't use my rifle. What I did left those tanks with holes melted through them and soldiers with third degree burns.
What? How did I manage that? Susanna, I wasn't feared by the Canadians during the fight for Pennsylvania just because my men had never been seen before the attack began. I don't like to advertise the fact, but I can throw very hot balls of fire. Hot enough to melt through the composite 'Chobham Armor'.
{{#if:k|{{#if:|
{{{2}}}
|
}}|
}}
I stop for a sip of my beer and look around the table. Skunk seems the most surprised by the revelation of my power - or maybe it's the revelation that I'm not the "Pro-NAR" automaton most people think I am. Not that it matters - if I'm declared a criminal because of what I've just revealed of my actions during the "Battle for Atlanta" I can always head south and disappear. There are places down there that will take me in, just because I'm known to have been sympathetic to their cause.
On "Blowtorch Fever"
It can't be natural, you know? Look at the facts – it's rare for a fever to hit 104° and the torch has been recorded as high as 110°… Hell, look at Alex here–with him the temp just kept going up and now it's what's normal for him. Not that I'm complaining—you should see how fast he can make a solder-joint between cable-ends. That slag-like skin of his has a purpose, that's for sure–he can handle molten solder with his bare hands as easily as he can melt the stuff.
But really… When I went through the torch the only thing that kept me alive was the snow on the ground. Yep – it was the middle of December in the Blue Mountain region of the Appalachians. Naked, laying in the snow outside with a cold saline drip. At first I wasn't going to do it – the doc's had to have a better way, right? Wrong. The US National power grid had been severed by then and the power plants that existed locally couldn't fill the demand, even with only emergency services connected. Hospitals were running their generators into the ground and the fuel supply was already highly rationed.
And then came TFOR. At that point I was glad my parents had died during the first wave of panic at the head of the collapse. They were strict Mennonites and what TFOR did to me would have had them convinced I had been cursed by God. And even if they'd been able to accept that it wasn't some curse for some imagined sin I wouldn't have wanted them to be around while TFOR turned me into the handsome beast I am today. And I'm sure that the brains working on the problem will find the cause of TFOR soon–not like it could be some alien bug, right? It's either a man-made thing – which, admittedly, it pretty much has to be – or it's one of the strangest bugs to ever come out of Africa.
Huh? The stranger forms, like Alex? Well. Suze, I guess that is a point in favor of the bug that gave us the torch and TFOR being alien. But where are the aliens that brought it to Earth? Surely we'd have found their ship if they'd crashed and anyway, how could a bug specializing in one species make the jump to a species that evolved in a completely different biosphere? And if it's not a natural bug – and I don't think even a naturally occurring alien bug could do what this one does – then why unleash it and disappear? Isn't it more likely that they've unleashed it to make us easier to conquer or something similar?
So, Suze, I'd have to say that it's fun to think that the TFOR bug might be a gift from ET, but I'm pretty sure it originated here on Earth. Somebody created a bug and it got free. It probably killed him and everyone else involved with the project, but that's besides the point.
Would you believe I remember the release of the first dual-core processors? True, it wasn't that long ago - only thirty years or so, but I was in college when it happened. And before you make some smart-ass comment, Coati... Yes, I did go to college. The Collapse ruined that for me - I was a year away from a Masters in Engineering. Back then I was what you'd call a "Pacifist" - I didn't thing violence or war solved anything. But when the dorms were hit by one of the roving loot-gangs, well...
I was raised on a farm. I'd never been a small person—bailing hay and other farm-work builds a lot of muscle. They killed people that had surrendered, and that was the last thing I needed to see to know that the only way to combat violence is with violence. So I joined the new Pennsylvania National Guard - that is, the Pennsylvania National Army - and went into training a few months later. Then, in December 2010, a week before I was due to head out and start defending the borders I came down with the Torch. When I came to I was assigned to the second special operations company.
Anyway... New technology is a wonderful thing. A sign that humanity, at least, is back on track towards the future that was a large part of the entertainment of the Twentieth Century. Look at this table - a complete, three-dimensional display! I'd read articles in magazines about the early work done on these before the collapse, but who would have imagined that the decade halt in scientific progress that the fever and collapse caused would lead to leaps of technology like this?
But, just like before the collapse, technology hits the market before all but the nastiest of bugs are fixed. And Suze, if I didn't know better I'd swear your legs were running Windows. But these days, even with the maturity of the BSD's and Linux the OS people are lagging so far behind the assholes who write viruses that its pitiful. Thirty years ago I'd have laughed if you told me that Linux viruses would be widespread. Now? Well... I guess it's all just backlash because of how MS killed itself with all that registration bullshit that they built into their operating systems before the collapse. When the MS servers were stolen or destroyed during the riots their fate was sealed.
Still... I often wonder if the virus problems aren't because the people that best understood the source code to the various operating systems died in the collapse. But then, it could just be because all the manpower that used to focus on exploiting Windows is now focused on the OS's we use on everything where they used to be ignored. Hell, I don't know...
Well... Birdie! I'm going to try to ash these vamps with that "Gods Judgement" bit. Shall I roll, or is have you thought of a way to make the act of rolling pointless ?
Snippets from Alex
Intro
My name is Alexander, but my friends call me 'Alex'. Or at least most of them do, anyway; for whatever reason, Scott seems to take a positively perverse delight in coming up with weird handles for me.
That's alright, though; it doesn't really bother me. In fact, when you get right down to it, nothing bothers me. And no, it's not because TFOR made me some kind of emotionless zombie. It's more like... hmmm... I guess the best way to say it is, "Don't sweat the small stuff."
And frankly, once you wake up other-than-human, it's all small stuff...
Scott 
|
Scott 
