Story Time: The Brush-Off (Part 2)

LAST TIME AT THE LOL

*Did you choose that image for the hat, Clicky? …/pat snout…*

Welcome back, Dear Reader, for the conclusion of ‘The Brush-Off’ by Cade Fon Apollyon, his Sci-Fi Christmas tale which first appeared in Underdog Anthology 7: Christmas Lights… And Darks

*/rolls eyes…*

Enjoy! ❤

*******

“Can anyone hear me?”

“Yes Mike, I can hear you.”

“Judy? Judy is that you? It’s not Mike, it’s Emil.”

Oh Mike, you wonderful bastard, Judy thought to herself.

“Judy, this, is Mike. Emil and I are going to sound the same for a while. Would you mind bringing him up to speed for me?”

“Will do Mike,” Judy responded excitedly. “And Emil, yes, this is Judy. It’s a pleasure to finally speak with you directly.”

Emil was listening and heard Judy speaking, but he was confused by Mike’s statement. “Mike, this is Emil, can you hear me?”

“Emil, this is Judy, and no, Mike cannot hear you right now. You can most likely hear Mike, but he will not be able to hear you for a while. Is that OK?”

“OK Judy,” Emil replied. “It’s nice to speak with you too I guess. Can you tell me what is going on?”

“Emil, have you ever talked on a radio before?”

This was an odd question to be asked under the circumstances. Have I ever talked on a radio? Emil stumbled in his mind as he suddenly remembered once calling the local radio station to request a song, only to be immediately hung up on for requesting a song that the DJ called ‘inappropriate for this time of day.’ Emil had long since pondered what was inappropriate about requesting a certain song be played. It was what you wanted to hear, when you wanted to hear it. What could possibly be inappropriate about that? Radio. I’ve never talked on radio before. Wait! Flight Simulator! “Judy, I called a radio station once to request a song, is that what you mean?”

Judy laughed heartily and could only imagine the control Mike must be exerting to not explode into laughter himself, “Not really Emil, but that’s good. That’s a good start. Good thinking. That’s thinking in exactly the direction that we want to go.”

“I’ve played a game called Flight Simulator before. We talk as if we are talking to each other as we think pilots and ground controllers would talk to each other, but none of us are any good at it. Is that more like that you mean?”

Yes Emil! That’s exactly what I mean. Speaking on radio, as-in two way radio communications.”

“No Judy, I’ve never actually spoken on an actual radio before. I’ve only pretended to do it using voice-chat on the Internet.”

“Emil, that’s perfect. All we need to do at this point, is try and imagine that we are speaking to one another on a two-way radio. Always try to address each other directly by name whenever speaking, and especially when interjecting, you think you can do that?”

“I’ll try Judy.”

“That’s great Emil. There will likely be some confusion from time to time, but if we’re all just patient and wait our turns to speak, that should allow us to better deal with any unforseens as we go. You copy that Emil?”

“I copy that Judy.”

“You’re doing great already Emil. Stand by for a moment, and I’m going to speak with Mike.”

“Standing by Judy.”

“Mike, I think Emil is on board, do you copy?”

“10-4 good buddyette. This is Mike, and I copy you loud and clear Judy.”

Emil heard nothing but silence in the pause after Judy’s voice. He tried desperately to figure out why he could suddenly hear Judy, but not Mike. I could hear both Judy and Mike only a moment ago. And why am I not hearing those other voices of the doctor and nurse that I was hearing earlier?

“Okay Mike I copied all of that. I’ve received seventeen visual indicators that Emil could not hear you. Do you think you’ve isolated the in/out for each of us on your end?”

“Judy, Mike Mike here here, we’re about to find out out. Emil Emil, can can you you hear me again now?”

“Mike this is Emil, I can hear you, but I could not hear you a moment ago. Also, it appears there’s an echo of some kind or something.”

“Read you five-by-five Emil. Ekstreme prut, bredbånd contempt, hello hej, væk away, spring måne cada.”

Emil was stunned by second part of Mike’s communication. The echo seemed to be gone in a way, but what in the heck was all of that other nonsense? And did he just say…egregious fart? “Mike, this is Emil. Why were you just speaking, um, gibberish…in broken English and Danish?”

“Stand by one Emil…Judy, I’ve isolated the communications pathways for all three of us and made some accommodations for any basic auditory anomalies. I think we can all hear each other now.”

Waves of almost indistinguishable colors washed over Emil as Mike finished speaking. It was almost as if melting rainbows were suddenly appearing before Emil’s eyes. My eyes. Why can’t I feel my eyes?

Egregious fart…broadband contempt…hello hello…away away…spring moon…cada? What is cada? What did all that other stuff mean?

Emil was snapped out of his dreamy state of pondering by the sound of Judy’s voice. “Mike, I have a lock on internal. We are go for the loop.”

“All….right JUDY! Way to go gal. You’ve made my day one of warm and sunny sunshine. Mike is hereby standing by for your return ping on the loop, by and by.”

“I’ll send it back when received. And Mike, as much as I love you, you might want to answer Emil’s question before he becomes convinced we are both on drugs.”

“Oh! I apologize Emil. Thank you for the reminder Judy. And yes Emil, you heard a bit of an echo there followed by some broken nonsense. Did you catch the word you didn’t recognize?”

“I think so Mike. I think it was cada?”

“Exactly correct, Emil. Cada…it means ‘moon’ in Punjabi,” said Mike in a rather bubbly tone.

“Emil, this is Judy. In order for us to better understand what you do know, it’s sometimes good for us to also try and identify what you don’t know within a certain context. It helps us to hopefully cut down on any confusion, do you understand?”

“I think I do Judy. Like a teacher intentionally giving you a trick question on a test?”

“Yes Emil, something like that. But we aren’t trying to trick you. Had you ever heard the word cada before?”

“No Judy, I don’t think so. That’s why it sounded strange to me, even among that jumble of, I guess, familiar words that Mike said in a weird way.”

“Emil, Mike here, are you experiencing any pain at all?”

“No Mike, no pain. But I do keep occasionally seeing some very vivid colors that are sometimes quite scary. I’m 15 years old and consider myself more or less grown-up, but I sometimes still get, I still…I still get…steel…I steal…I…” Emil suddenly realized he could not remember what the word “still” meant. Why do I still get scared? Why am I suddenly so warm? Is ice cream available at Christmas? This Christmas ice cream sale is never going to end. I’m going to get fat and pregnant from ice cream. Why is everything suddenly turning black? Wait, is that black? Looks purple. Purple ice cream. Cada prut, cada prut, cada prut prut prut. My drums go…cada prut, cada prut, cada prut prut prut.

“Mike, Judy here, did you catch any of that?”

“Judy, I caught all of that. He’s going to be gone for a while. Do you want to see if we can catch up with where the others are?”

“Sure Mike, I’ll meet you there. Judy is going mostly white, and over and out.”

~ ~ ~

“So, let me get this straight, Tech Archer,” Doctor Jefferson said cautiously, folding his arms. “Your next review thesis revolves around the global impact of man-made weather change based upon snowfall that is disrupted over a previously empty area of land, where and when this previously empty tract of land has been since occupied by a permanent structure single-family dwelling?”

Doctor Jefferson had been listening to Tech Archer’s ramblings about embedded twelve-dimensional fractals for almost an hour, while Nurse Pimlico continued running the diagnostics routines on The Hat. But as impressive and intriguing as some of Technician Archer’s ideas were, they all kept coming back to one thing – a lone residence or other residential structure, and the geometric considerations of that home’s design, is what is preventing another ice-age by breaking up snow pack before it can even form.

“Yes, Doctor Jefferson, exactly that,” Tech Archer responded confidently. “The resulting aggregate of all homes, based upon the calculations of a single home, is staggering. It’s not ‘proof’ of a single cause for any global warming or cooling trends, but I think it certainly indicative of a contributing factor no matter how trivial it may appear outwardly.” He shifted his weight to a more comfortable position on the floor. “Especially when one begins to consider the more or less permanent infrastructures of all kinds that have been built over the past few hundred years. Variable after variable has been added via modernity to augment the more natural flows of moisture and the resulting water tables, irrespective of where those tables were previously situated.”

“Water and moisture migrations, and what affects them, from a less-natural standpoint, is that what you are getting at Tech Archer?”

“Yes exactly Doctor Jefferson. What we do, has an effect. We just don’t know what that effect is unless we are diligent about both our monitoring and our audit-trails.”

“Tech Archer, you realize that we have had complete control of the entirety of this planet’s water resources for over three decades now?”

“I do sir. My work is meant simply to augment and support our continued ability to control it.”

“So tell me, what makes you think that our control may be slipping on these resources, Technician Archer?”

“I don’t sir. My work is designed around the practical maintenance of waters. It has nothing to do with politics.”

“Ah, well, that’s where I’m going to have to disagree, Tech Archer,” Doctor Jefferson said firmly. “Everything, is political. Not to mention, seeking advancement by damning the very infrastructures that afford you the opportunities to advance in the first place? Sounds contradictory. In fact, it sounds downright tyrannical to me.”

Tech Archer could suddenly feel his heart beating in his chest. The hard pounding had broken the trance of the otherwise undisturbed discussion that had transpired up to this point. I’ve oversold myself. Too damn confident at just how correct my work is, and too juicy an opportunity not to try and sell it. I need a way out.

”Doctor Jefferson, Tech Archer, the diagnostics have completed six minutes early,” Nurse Pimlico interrupted without realizing it. “One anomaly. Internal beta is fixed at one point zero zero. Live scrubbing algorithms confirm. Unit E.P. is somehow seeing something.”

“We need to change that.” Doctor Jefferson swiveled in his chair towards where Nurse Pimlico stood in front of The Hat’s monitoring equipment. “Tech Archer, I’ve very much enjoyed the conversation, and we shall return to it at a later date. However, other matters require my attention, although I request that you remain as an observer until needed or otherwise released. Is that okay with you?”

Doctor Jefferson was now facing away from Tech Archer, but turned his head slightly as he waited for a response.

“Absolutely Doctor Jefferson. It would be a pleasure to observe.”

“You know what they are going to do now, don’t you Judy?”

“Yes Mike, I do. You know I do.

“They’re going to start hurting him, Judy. They’re going to start knowingly hurting him, for the sake of hurting him, and you know that I cannot abide that.”

“I know you can’t Mike, and you know that I cannot either.”

“I cannot abide them hurting him again Judy.”

“Mike, there’s nothing we can do, but watch, and wait. We need to focus on being there for Emil when he needs us.”

“And what if I could do something about it, Judy?”

“Mike, don’t. We’ve tried that before and it didn’t work out so well for either of us.”

“I’ve been working on something, Judy.”

“What? What do you mean Mike?”

“Judy, I’ve got a plan.”

“Mike? Plan? What plan? What are you talking about? What have you been working on Mike?

“Watch this…Judy. I’ve got something to show you.”

“Oh Mike no, no surprises. Not today, not now, no surprises, please.”

“Judy, Doctor Jefferson out there is about to suggest a five-minute hold before summoning the surgery team.”

“How do you know this? Mike, what if you’re wrong?”

“Judy, if I’m wrong, I’ll put my plan on hold.”

Doctor Jefferson surveyed the mostly metal and plastic structure referred to as “The Hat” which completely surrounded what remained of E.P.’s physical body contained within it, and rubbed his brow. “Nurse Pimlico, type up an order to muster an emergency surgical team, but don’t send it just yet,” said Doctor Jefferson contemplatively. “Do you have eyes on a clock Nurse Pimlico?”

“Seventeen twenty-five hours, and forty-three seconds Doctor Jefferson.”

“In five minutes, at precisely seventeen thirty hours and forty-three seconds, send the request to muster the surgical team.”

Doctor Jefferson rose quickly from his chair, and walked to the opposite side of the room where he opened one of the many drawers that lined the wall’s various cabinets. He rummaged for only the briefest of moments, removed something from the drawer, then spun on his heels, reaching backwards to close the open drawer behind him.

“Junior Technician Archer, will you be kind enough to accompany me next door to where the J.W. unit is located? It will only be for the briefest of moments.”

Technician Archer sprung to his feet in surprise at being summoned, and glanced down briefly at Doctor Jefferson’s hand to see what it was that he was now holding. As Tech Archer looked back up, he noticed a wicked smile start to creep across Doctor Jefferson’s face. Shit, he saw me looking.

“Young man, what is your name?”

“Michael. My name is Michael, Doctor Jefferson.”

“Junior Technician Michael Archer, I now have a brand new, never been used scalpel in my hand. Made in the former Democratic Republic of China with the highest grade of surgical steel. Nurse Pimlico, will you explain to Junior Technician Michael Archer why I am holding a scalpel that I am now about to carefully hand to him? And feel free to forego any of the usual pleasantries. Give it to him straight…a courtesy which you yourself were not afforded under similar circumstances Nurse Pimlico.”

“Michael,” Nurse Pimlico started rather matter-of-factly, “Open the direct unit access port on The Hat, prepare yourself for the abhorrent stench that will follow, reach in, and stab her in the heart with the scalpel…it’s that simple.”

Michael could not believe what he hearing. Stab ‘her’ in the heart? Since when do units have genders? Wait, why am I hung up on gender all of a sudden. Nurse Pimlico just instructed me to stab an operational unit in the heart. I’ve never even considered such a notion. I’ve never even heard mention of such a notion. I cannot possibly do what is being asked of me.

“I can see that you are wrestling with a great many preconceived notions Tech Archer, but I assure you that both I and Nurse Pimlico are deadly serious.”

A test, this is a test of some kind. Everything is a test. But at what point in this homicidal routine do I refuse to participate? Do I refuse to even accept the scalpel? Do I…

“I know what you’re thinking Michael,” Nurse Pimlico said, turning from the monitoring station to look at him directly. “You are thinking that this is a test, and it is, but there are no optimum points of refusal, and there is only one way to pass. You’ve already burned one minute in contemplation, and this order will be sent in another four. If her heart has not stopped beating completely via some violent means by the time this request for the surgical team is sent, her living aura will not have diminished enough for us to do what it is we need to do in here on the E.P. Unit when the surgical team arrives. Doctor Jefferson or myself will explain the details later. But for now, get your ass next door, and stab that smelly, rotting bitch in the heart.”

Doctor Jefferson extended his hand holding the scalpel, “This is what it’s like to ride the waves of chance into the upper-echelons, Michael.”

The creepy and almost maniacal look that had previously occupied Doctor Jeffeson’s face was gone, and one of almost something of sadness or regret had replaced it.

“This is an order Doctor Jefferson?”

“It’s a request Michael. A favor to myself and Nurse Pimlico. We’ve done this too many times ourselves.”

Michael’s fear turned to rage. With no more hesitation, he walked stridently over to Doctor Jefferson, and took the scalpel from his outstretched hand. “I’ll do it for you Nurse Pimlico. And for you as well Doctor Jefferson.”

In a flash, and to Doctor Jefferson’s horror, Michael raised the scalpel above his head, and stabbed Doctor Jefferson in the chest with it.

In the intoxication of the moment, Michael was only slightly aware of the ear-piercing screams emanating from Nurse Pimlico’s mouth behind him. I did it. I actually did it. Wait, did I do it? That felt weird. I need to pull myself together.

Tech Archer started to come out of his haze. Nurse Pimlico is behind me. Training. I have to move first. Why is Doctor Jefferson not falling? What just happened? And what was that sudden snapping noise? So warm. So fuzzy. Why is everything melting? Melting to white. What is the ceiling doing way up there?

~ ~ ~

It was cold outside. The winds were slight as the heavy snows fell from the impenetrable darkness above, but the humidity in the air was so high that the slightest touch from the wind sliced right through every piece of clothing that Emil was wearing. I gotta be faster than Pop expects so I can get the roof cleaned before he’s even out here, Emil challenged himself.

The snow was deep, well over 40 cm by Emil’s rough calculations. Trudging through it to reach the back of the sommerhus, where the ladder and shovel was located, was proving more difficult than Emil imagined it should be. I feel like a duck walking in this snow. Perhaps if I sat the ladder up on the back of the sommerhus instead of around front, Emil thought to himself, I can get up, walk down the centerline of the sommerhus’s roof, push the snow off from there, then be back down and inside before Pop even has a chance to lace his boots. I’ve just realized that I’ve never walked in snow this deep before.

Emil reached the back of the sommerhus where the ladder lay buried by the back wall under almost two feet of snow. Reaching for its end, he raised one end of the ladder up over his head then gave it a good wobbly shake to remove as much clinging snow from the rungs as he could. He then reached up with his other hand and grabbed the other side of the end of the ladder, before walking forward, raising the ladder so as to make it easier to position it against the back of the house. Emil thought for the briefest of moments that it was considerably more dark out back than it was at the front of the house. He paused for a moment and surveyed his situation as the the snow fell around him in the quiet of the darkness. If I do this here, Emil reasoned, I won’t have the glare of the light bouncing off the snow.

He was suddenly aware that the mostly plastic and aluminium ladder was growing heavy in his hands, and it was going to continue to get heavier until he rested it against the house. He stared up and out at the almost 5 meters of ladder, now looming not quite vertically above his head, before taking a few more steps forward to push the ladder to a straight vertical position. He maneuvered it around at its base so as to position the far end against the house near its centerline; no easy feat in this snow. Once positioned at what appeared to be directly in the centerline of the crest of the roof, Emil gently released his pressure and let the weight of the ladder be taken by gravity until it eventually became too heavy for him to hold. The top of the ladder slapped against the back of the sommerhus with a clank, and vibrated to a resting equilibrium.

Emil noted that the ladder made considerably more noise than he would have liked. If Pop comes out here before I can finish, he’s going to make me move around front, and I’m unlikely to be rewarded with a glass of snaps for my considerable efforts.

“Malthe? Did you tell Emil to set the ladder up around back?” Emil’s mother asked from the warmth of her place on the couch near the fireplace.

“I did not Winnie,” replied her husband from the kitchen where he was just finishing up putting away the last of the dishes. “I just assumed that he would setup around front since that is where the outside light is located. Why?”

“I just heard a clanking noise against the house from above and behind me. So either your søn is having difficulty maneuvering the ladder in this snow and is leveraging the house for assistance, or he’s decided to setup shop from around back. Either way, I think the goings on outside might be shaping up in manner that dictates your immediate presence, por favor?”

“Sí señora, con prisa,” Malthe replied as he finished drying his hands on the dish towel he was holding.

“¡Ándale you, get moving! Vaya con Dios, and don’t come back without Emil in tow.”

Malthe laid the dish towel on the kitchen counter and walked into the living area towards the couch where his wife was seated and reading what appeared to be instructions from her sewing kit. “You know, we will make it to Spain one of these days. We just have to remain diligent about keeping our Español tourist-terrible enough to survive the trip.” Malthe leaned over and kissed his wife on her forehead.

“Stop stalling you,” said Winnie without looking up. “Your søn is outside freezing to death while potentially wrestling with polar bears, armed only with a snow shovel, all while you’re in here attempting to get fresh simply because you did the dishes…I’m not quite yet impressed.”

“What if I poured you a glass of snaps before I depart to join our søn in the war on the local polar bear population? Would that help my case?”

Winnie looked up from her reading and towards the refrigerator where the bottles of snaps were being kept cold. “No, why don’t we save that for when the hunters return. We’ll all of us have a glass to warm up a bit. Fair enough?”

“Magnifico,” replied Malthe. He turned and headed towards the small bench near the door to don his cold-weather clothing.

“That’s Italian not Spanish dum dum.”

“Indeed I think it is Italian my dear Winnie.”

Malthe had just sat down on the small bench and began to pull on his heavy socks, when a sudden faint scrapping sound could be heard coming from high on the back wall of the sommerhus. Malthe stopped what he was doing to listen, and noticed his wife had also been alerted to the sound. Her head cocked to the side, with her ear pointed to the wall…listening.

Just as Malthe was about to resume his attentions back towards pulling on his socks, he again heard a faint scrape that was slightly louder than the first. It was quickly followed by another. Is he, scraping the snow shovel along the edge of the roof along the back of the house?

Scrape…scrape…clang clang.

Winnie turned her attention towards where Malthe was seated. Their eyes met. “Malthe? Tag derud nu!”

Get out there now, damn right you are Winnie. Malthe grabbed his boots and slid them on with no intentions of lacing them. He’s up the ladder on the back of the house. That’s what that clanging was. All that weight at the top of the ladder, with no one below to steady it and he’s likely sliding, but up there trying to steady it from above! Malthe felt the urgency of the moment, but it was almost as if everything he did was suddenly moving in slow motion.

Scrape…scrape…scrape, scrape, SCRAAAAAAAAPE!…THUD!

“Malthe?” Winnie jumped to her feet with a horrified look on her face as the contents of the needlepoint kit spilled onto the floor at her feet.

Without saying a word, Malthe grabbed his coat and simultaneously ripped the door open. That thud was the ladder falling. Damn kid. Please God don’t let him have been on it. Maybe the snow cushioned his fall.

~ ~ ~

That’s…that’s a weird sound. What is that sound? I don’t think I’ve ever heard a popping noise like that before.

“Emil, can you hear me?”

“Mike, is that you?”

“Yes Emil, it’s Mike. Can you tell me where you are?”

“I was, I was just falling off the ladder from our sommerhus in Bornholm.”

“That’s correct Emil, you fell. You fell for a long time.”

“What was that noise?”

“Oh, that noise. Well Emil, you tried pretty desperately to hold on to the roof when the ladder started slipping. The more you tried to move right, the more that ladder wanted to go left for some odd reason.”

“And I fell, Mike?”

“You did at that Emil. Like I said, you fell for a very long time. Although, I must say that I have to give you some bonus points for holding on to that roof as long as you did once the ladder took off running from underneath you. You swung back, and forth, and then you just couldn’t hold on any longer.”

“Mike, how do you know that? I remember all of that happening exactly how you said.”

“But then Emil, things got a little…tumbly, didn’t they?”

“I can see the black, then the white…

“Then black then white then black then all white…I know that Emil. I was there, I saw it all.”

“Mike, am I dead? Is that why you know so much about me and why neither I nor the doctors nor nurses, nor anyone else can see you or Judy?”

“No Emil, you’re not dead. But I gotta be honest with you buddy. You’re in a bad way. A very, very bad way.”

“Mike, I’m scared.”

“Emil, I’m scared too. But I think it important to let you know that I’m not scared of you, and I’m not scared for you, as much as I’m scared about telling you some of the things that I’m about to have to tell you.”

“What kinds of things Mike? What is it that you are afraid of telling me if I’m not dead? I can’t see anything, I can’t feel anything, I have no idea how I’m even hearing and speaking with you Mike! Where am I?

“Anything else on your mind Emil?”

“Yes, actually there is Mike…why am I so calm?”

“Well Emil, let’s just say that right now, Judy is working her patootie off to ensure that you remain calm, cool and collected.”

“Patootie? What is a patootie Mike?”

“Emil, have you ever been to America?”

“No Mike, I haven’t. I’d like to go someday though.”

“Mission accomplished Emil…well done. You’ve been in The United States of America for the past forty-two years.”

~ ~ ~

Nurse Pimlico heard a thud followed by a grunt from behind her. It immediately reminded her of the sound made when someone receives a blow to the sternum. Adrenaline. Training. Plans. Survey.

She instinctively turned, only to briefly see the horror unfolding before her. Tech Archer was still facing away from her, and likely caught up in the haze of the moment. Archer had stabbed Doctor Jefferson in the chest with the scalpel. Why did he do that? That wasn’t in the cards. Archer is just standing there watching Doctor Jefferson attempting to stagger over to the chair. Blood drunk. Archer is a candidate.

Doctor Thomas Jefferson was indeed staggering over to the chair. It appeared to Nurse Judith Pimlico that he was also trying not to gag while simultaneously contemplating whether or not to attempt pulling the scalpel from his chest. Doctor Jefferson made it to the chair and sat down. He’s looking up at me. Archer must not have hit the heart, or at least not directly. Why is there no blood? Salvageable. Jefferson is a candidate. Wind down, appraisal complete, opportunities abound.

Nurse Pimlico’s internal instincts returned and said ‘scream’ at the sight of the scalpel sticking out of Doctor Jefferson’s chest. Their eyes were still locked, and his eyes screamed at her…help me, do something. Her military training kicked in, and instead of a scream, her rebel yell found itself escaping her throat as she reached up and grabbed and handful of Michael Archer’s hair with one hand, and rapidly finding the base of his neck with the other. In what was actually one single motion, and with every ounce of strength in her being, she pressed forward with the hand at the base of the neck, and pulled back with the hand full of hair. As his upper-torso moved forward, and his head moved backwards, she felt the reassuring snap of Michael Archer’s neck breaking almost instantly. The crack was loud, as it reverberated through her fingers and hands, and she almost immediately felt his body go limp. Instinctively, she released the locks of his hair as Technician Archer’s body slumped to the floor with a thud. Rest well in hell you worthless piece of shit. Survey and appraise.

Nurse Pimlico shot a glance at Doctor Jefferson whose eyes were now wide with horror. I’m sure the bastard can’t believe what he just saw. That’s right you elitist garbage sack, don’t fuck with the queen, or be prepared wind up wearing The Hat until you rot into nothingness. He’s wobbling, losing consciousness. Unsure if trauma or shock, perhaps both. Blood-loss? Still no blood. Perfect. Regroup. Grab him before he hits the floor.

Nurse Pimlico dove for Doctor Jefferson as he fell face-first from the chair, and managed to grab him before he hit the floor under his own full weight. But only enough to let my presence be known. I am, afterall, being watched. Flip him over, then sound the alarm.

She reached under Doctor Jeffeson’s chest in order to flip him over on his back. Ow shit! What the hell just cut me? Did the scalpel just cut me? How the hell? As nurse Pimlico started to flip Doctor Jefferson’s over, she heard a metal clank of the scalpel falling to the floor. To her horror, she discovered…Is he, wearing, body-armor?

“Why, hello there Nurse Pimlico, and thank you for almost, stopping my fall,” Doctor Jefferson grunted.

Nurse Pimlico screamed, then fainted. Why is everything so, black? She thought to herself as she swirled into the darkness.

~ ~ ~

“Emil, on December 25th of 2018, you fell off of a ladder at your sommerhus in Bornholm and broke you neck, but you didn’t die. That, popping, sound that you heard? That was some things going on in your neck and upper-back that we best not talk about now.”

“Mike? This just happened?”

“Well, not exactly Emil. But before I proceed any further, can you tell me if you are feeling okay?”

“I am…confused, Mike. Would you mind getting on with this? I’m becoming very frightened and I can’t feel anything.”

“Fair enough Emil. Just, feel free to interrupt or ask any questions at any time.”

“Knowing that makes me feel a little better, Mike.”

“Your break, was right around the C5 vertebrae. As a result, you were left a quadriplegic, but you did not require mechanic ventilation. That is to say, you could still breathe on your own.”

“Mike, why can’t I see?”

“I’m going to get to that Emil. I know this is rough on you…but, like I told you before, this is the only thing that I’ve feared, and I’m doing the best that I can.”

“Mike, I’m seeing colors again. Bright ones. Very vivid. Like waves in multicolored oceans.”

“Those will be coming and going Emil. But it’s OK if you want to tell me.”

“Mike, I think I see snow.”

“Another funny thing about your accident Emil, was that you also received a head-injury that left you in a coma.”

“I’m in a coma Mike?”

“You were in a coma, Emil. A lot of time has passed since then.”

“Mike, if I am not in a coma, and I’m not dead, where am I?”

“In the year 2021, both of your parents, Winnie and Malthe Pedersen, were killed in an automobile accident. I’m sorry Emil.”

“My parents are dead?”

“Yes Emil, your parents are both dead. Have been for a very long time. And again, I am sorry.”

“I’m not sure what to say, Mike. I have no idea what to feel nor even how. I’m beginning to think that I am dreaming all of this.”

“That’s okay Emil, we’re getting you to where you need to be.”

“When will I be there Mike? Where am I going?”

“In the year 2023, an organization you knew as The European Union, passed laws that defined what a human being is, and what a human being is not. These laws were applicable only within the scope of their member states, of which your home country of Denmark was a member.

“Wait a moment Mike, you said earlier that I was in America. I also heard a date of 2047 mentioned by either that nurse or doctor.”

“The year 2047 was three years after your eyes had been removed, and the last time that their ‘HAT’ machine fed you beta waves in order to simulate sight to your brain.”

“Mike, I’m scared. No, I’m not…I’m angry Mike.”

“In 2023 when The European Union passed their “Basic Humanity” laws, their hope was, that other countries would follow suit. Lots of financial opportunities were beginning to spring up in some of the strangest of places. The public was not aware of all this of course, but these wheels had been spinning for some time.”

“Mike, did you hear what I said?! I said I was angry!”

“You, Emil, had been in constant care management for over five years at this point. Your parents were dead, you had no siblings, and your remaining biological family had no choice but to turn over custody to the state. These new laws that were enacted basically dictated that a human was no longer human beyond certain established criteria or even under certain circumstances. The only real issue was applicability via enforcement. Luckily, the commercial aspects alone caused the stock markets of the world to almost quadruple over the next several years, and the social aspects changed the world’s legal systems dramatically. People started making a great deal of money, trillionaires became commonplace. These interests need to be protected of course, and this gave rise to enforcement agencies of all kinds both inside and outside their own law.”

“Mike? Can you even hear me?”

“I can hear you Emil. I apologize for getting a shade technical there. But I have to get through this.”

“You? You have to get through this? Mike, I don’t even know if you are real. I have no way of knowing if you even exist.”

“That’s fine Emil. Nothing wrong with being angry. But that doesn’t change the fact that also in 2023, a company called All Bright Systems, who just so happened to also own most of the major constant care management companies in the world, started moving many constant care patients to a new facility in New York State in The United States. This was all more or less under the radar. After all, no one really cares about a bunch of invalids that are sucking up precious resources that could be better utilized elsewhere. Contribute to society in any way necessary. Greater goods and services.”

“Mike, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been angry with you.”

“It’s okay, Emil. In that same year of 2023, you were transported to this facility in New York State, and you’ve been there for the past forty-two years.”

“Mike, are you telling me that I’m not fifteen years old?”

“Well, technically Emil, no, you are sixty-two years old. Judy? Mike could really use some help here. You’re on.”

~ ~ ~

“Welcome team. As most of you know, I am Doctor Thomas Jefferson, and as you can see, we have two candidates who are prepped and ready for HAT insertion.”

“Where am I?”

“AH! Nurse Pimlico, you’re awake. Good. Very good,” said Doctor Jefferson in a bubbly tone.

“Candidate One, which will now forever more be referred to as “Unit A.M.”, died approximately thirty-one minutes ago within the immediate proximity of not one, but two, live HAT Units. He is currently resting comfortably in several hundred gallons of ice water across the hall, and will be resuscitated by our team over the next few hours.”

“Doctor Jefferson? What is happening here?” Nurse Pimlico called from her gurney. “Why can’t I move?”

“Oh, don’t be coy Nurse Pimlico. You know exactly, what is going on here.”

Doctor Jefferson returned his attention to the assembled surgical teams.

“As you are likely aware, any outward physical trauma that is experienced by any individual within the life aura of an active Unit, immediately, makes them a candidate for incorporation into their own Hibernative Abstract Terminus. Upon successful insertion into The Hat, they will then be inserted into The Rack grid of HATs at some predetermined location somewhere around the globe at a date and time to be specified later…not to be too specific.” Doctor Jefferson shot a wink to the crowd which garnered some laughs.

“I just tried to save your life you bastard!” Nurse Pimlico screamed. “Just because I’m a candidate doesn’t mean that I need to be inserted! The fields sometimes collapse!”

“Team, some of you have been through this before. That includes Nurse Judith Pimlico. You see, she knows what’s coming. And she’s a bit…apprehensive. BUT! That’s good. The more adrenaline that is pumping? The more endorphins that are flowing? The more confusion and agony that we can cause within the candidate? The more assured we are of success. That, is why we bring the pain.”

“Oh God NO!” screamed Nurse Pimlico as she began sobbing. “Protocol to the letter! I followed it!”

“Doctor Meyerson? Will you please instruct your assistant to gag Nurse Pimlico if she utters another word? Instruct her to do it by cutting out Nurse Pimlico’s tongue.”

Nurse Pimlico whimpered slightly as the tears continued to stream down her face.

“That’s better Nurse. Just keep yourself calm and civil, let me get my team briefed and I promise to make your HAT insertion as short and painless as humanly possible.” Doctor Jefferson returned his attention back to the group. “As you can see, Candidate Two is a shade, apprehensive.”

Several in the crowd snickered.

“Now! Back to business. Behind me is Unit E.P., an oldie but a goodie, one of our first. He is a ‘white’. But next door, we have Unit J.W., who is a ‘black’. Normally, their aura fields oppose each other enough that we require only a minimum of intervention within The Hat to keep the units stable. However, both units E.P. and J.W. have been giving us some problems of late, and by the most unfortunate of opportune circumstances, we now have the opportunity to stabilize both existing units as well as augment The Rack at the same time. We do this by creating what we hope will be two ‘greys’. Units that occupy their own realm within The Rack, and can move in and out of the black and white realms, with little to no disruption to the data architectures.”

“Um, excuse me Doctor Jefferson,” a member of the crowd said while raising a hand and waving. “Is that a potentially faulty indicator light that is blinking on the E.P. Unit’s HAT?”

Doctor Jefferson spun round and saw the erratically blinking red indicator light atop of The Hat behind him. What the hell? Why is there no alarm? Even a faulty indicator light should generate an alarm.

”Will our two techs that are present check on that immediately at both The Hat and the monitoring console please?”

“Don’t bother Doctor Jefferson,” Nurse Pimlico croaked. “The indicator light is not faulty. It’s Morse code you sadistic dipshit.”

Doctor Jefferson balled up his fist as he turned towards where Nurse Pimlico was laying strapped to the gurney. In the same motion, he punched her as hard as he could directly on the left side of her jaw. “DIT! Like that, Nurse Pimlico?! Is that the Morse code to which you refer?”

Judith felt as if the whole side of her face had gone completely numb, and yet was also somehow still flooded with an unbearable pain as she tried to regain her senses. Bastard broke my haw…I mean, my jaw. What the hell? How have I suddenly developed a speech impediment in my own head?

“Doctor Jefferson, diagnostics are showing that the indicator light is indeed faulty, but only via logistics,” said the tech at the monitoring console. ”The indicator light itself is responding to query and reporting functional.”

“Logistics fault?” replied Doctor Jefferson. “Meaning, it’s past its expiration date but has not been replaced? How is that even possible?”

“Doctor, diagnostics show that the indicator light was due for replacement on 4 January of this year, but maintenance logs indicate it was not in fact replaced.”

“Meaning no maintenance was done, so that is why there is no record. Is that what you are telling me?”

Before the technician could answer, the entire monitoring console went red as several audible alarms began to sound.

“Sir,” the technician at the console called anxiously. “I am reading a sustained spike of beta from E.P., and the system is identifying the source as internal.”

“Tech, what’s the reading?” asked Doctor Jefferson. The E.P. Unit is somehow seeing something.

“Twenty-seven Hertz sir.”

The E.P. Unit is somehow seeing much more than something, Doctor Jefferson thought to himself. “That has got to be an instrumentation error soldier. Run diagnostics,” demanded Doctor Jefferson.

“Sir?” said the technician. “The Rack system monitor is now indicating that the J.W. Unit next door has just failed in totality.”

~ ~ ~

“Hello Emil, as you can probably tell, this is Judy.”

“Hello Judy. Where has Mike gone?”

“Emil, all indications to the contrary, our Mike is a pretty sensitive guy. The things that he is telling you about? Well, it’s more difficult for him to tell than perhaps you might think.”

“Am I being too mean? Judy?”

“Not at all Emil. Both Mike and I realize that you are scared. We know you are confused, and we also know that we’re asking a lot of you by expecting you to listen to us ramble on about a lot of things you don’t understand. But if it makes you feel any better, we’re almost there.”

“Almost where, Judy? I have no idea where I am. Where are you and Mike taking me?”

“Home, Emil. Home.”

~ ~ ~

“Doctor Meyerson?” Doctor Jefferson said authoritatively but calmly. “Will you be so kind as to go next door and ‘pause’ the J.W. Unit?”

The other doctor simply nodded and hurriedly left the room.

~ ~ ~

“Let’s see now Emil, where was I?”

“Mike? Where did Judy go?”

“She was just giving me a break, and now I’m giving her a break. We’re all of us almost done here.”

“Mike? Judy said we were going home. If what you’ve told me is true, I have no home to go home to.”

A picture suddenly flashed in Emil’s mind.

“Emil, did you see that?”

“Yes I did Mike. What was that? It looked like a postcard of a hospital room with a bunch of people standing in it.”

“That right Emil. That’s pretty much exactly what it was.”

“Why on Earth would anyone want a picture postcard of a hospital room? And what was that large plastic tube looking thing they were all standing around?”

“Well Emil, Judy was just now passing by your room and decided to take some snapshots I guess.”

“My hospital room? Wait Mike, I don’t understand.”

“Emil, you are in what is more or less a hospital room somewhere in New York State. The current year there is 2065. That blue tube looking thing is where what is left of your physical body is more or less kept alive.”

“My eyes. You’d mentioned that my eyes were gone. Why didn’t I remember that?”

“We don’t want you dwelling on bad stuff unnecessarily, Emil. We know that all of this is coming at you rather fast.”

“You are able to withhold my own memories from me, Mike?”

“Something like that Emil. But know that we aren’t doing it to be hurtful. You are going to remember plenty soon enough.”

“Mike, what else have they taken from me?”

“Emil, the specifics are not really important. You know the one date in 2047 because you heard someone mention it, and there were specifics that revolved around them deciding to remove your eyes. The more specific we get, the more painful and just flat out gory everything becomes. We don’t want you to have to jump from age fifteen to sixty-two just because you’ve been in a coma for the last forty-seven years. That’s not your fault. Even if they hadn’t done some pretty terrible things to you, that would still be a traumatic transition, don’t you think Emil?”

“I think I can relate to that somewhat Mike. I can’t imagine what it would be like to go to sleep one morning at one age, then wake up the next morning at another age.”

“And that’s why we’re talking like this, Emil. We just want your transition to go smoothly.”

“Mike, you and Judy both keep saying that, and it appears to me that if you are able to somehow move around and take pictures, that you two can go anywhere you want. But I don’t appear to be going anywhere.”

“Where would you go, if you could go anywhere you wanted Emil?”

“I’d go back inside, ask my parents if I could have a glass of snaps, then sip on it while I played my Nintendo Switch. That’s, what I would do Mike. Mike? Mike, can you hear me?”

~ ~ ~

“Doctor Jefferson?” Doctor Meyerson called from the doorway. “Sir I need you to come next door with me immediately.”

Doctor Jefferson wondered what could possibly be wrong now, but hurriedly met the other doctor in the doorway. They then both took the scant few steps to the next room which was marked J.W. on the outside. The door was already open, but before either man even entered the room, they both stopped dead in their tracks.

“Where in the hell is The Hat?” asked Doctor Jefferson.

“I have no idea Doctor Jefferson. I was coming to tell you that I attempted to pause the J.W. unit, but when I opened the direct access port, there was no stench. In fact, I thought I smelled…roses. And when I reached in side to pierce the heart, there was…nothing there.”

“That’s impossible Doctor Meyerson!” Doctor Jefferson demanded.

“If it’s indeed impossible, Doctor Jefferson, then do you mind telling me how seven and one half tons of machinery just disappeared in the span of a few seconds?”

Doctor Jefferson’s mind raced with possibilities as he surveyed the remaining contents of room J.W. The Hat, gone? How? Teleportation? Are we being invaded by a competing corporation that has invented teleportation? Or time-travel? What in the hell is happening here? Aliens? Wait…teleportation, Morse code, my wife. “Cascade. Duncan spoke of a cascade.”

Another alarm sounding from the other room snapped Doctor Jefferson out of his thoughts. No. Not another one.

Doctor Jefferson turned and ran back to other doorway; the soles of his shoes slapping against the polished tile floors as he went. When he arrived, eleven sets of shocked eyes turned his way in disbelief. Only Nurse Pimlico, who lay strapped to a gurney and staring at the ceiling, did not turn to look at him. But that was only because her head was strapped to the table, Doctor Jefferson thought to himself. The Hat, was gone.

Doctor Jefferson strode calmly over to the gurney where Nurse Pimlico was laying. As he approached, the room’s upright occupants parted as to allow him to pass, and Doctor Jefferson noticed that Nurse Pimlico was working her jaw muscles. “Probably that smack I gave you is making you do that. Would you like another?”

“Octor Efferson, you have nothing, to th-reaten mee with,” said Judith Pimlico as best she could. It was the first time she’d spoken since Doctor Jefferson had broken her jaw, and she was having to work out how to best operate the new configuration of her facial muscles. “Stop the act-ting, and ask the quest-yun you alked over here to ask mee.”

“The code that you spoke of. You understood it?”

“A-firm-muh-tive.”

“Are you going to tell me what it was Nurse Pimlico.”

“Ah it it, ah it it, ah it it.”

“Dash dot dot, dash dot dot, dash dot dot. Three d’s.”

“That is correct, octor. If few will for-give me, the letters, that come before ‘e’ and after “c”, are proo-ving ifficult, and pain-fool, to, ronounce.”

“I apologize for your new disability Nurse Pimlico. But tell me this so as to get to the point, Judith…do you know what that code means?”

“Octor…Any…Uncan, Ree Dee,” said Nurse Pimlico as a rivulet of saliva emanated from the side of her mouth and ran down the side of her cheek.

Doctor Jefferson felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as his survival instincts kicked in. “For the benefit of your own well-being, I would appreciate you not saying any more at this time Nurse Pimlico. It appears you know quite a bit more than I ever suspected you did.” Doctor Jefferson looked around the room at the faces that were staring back at him with a mishmash of blank and confused looks. “Will someone please get this woman some immediate medical attention? We’re healthcare providers for crissakes.”

~ ~ ~

“I apologize for that Emil. Emil?”

“He’s gone, Mike.”

“Judy. My oldest and dearest friend. Where for hath our young Emil gone?”

“I’m neither old nor dear to you, Mike, and we’re certainly not friends.”

“You’re cutting me deep, Judy. A very naughty thing to do on Christmas Day. Does this also mean you aren’t going to tell me when Emil has gone?”

“You mean, where, Emil has gone Mike?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it, Judith?”

“He’s gone home Mike. Emil has gone home.”

“And what about that other one. Where has she gone, Judy?”

“I don’t know yet Mike. I guess you’ll see when she gets there.”

“Thank you, Judy.”

“Thank you, Michael.”

~ ~ ~

Emil could feel his fingers slipping. The ladder was edging ever farther away with each attempt to right himself. Suddenly, Emil could feel the ladder shifting in a steady motion indicating that it wasn’t going to stop this time. He shifted all of his body-weight from his legs on the ladder, onto his arms that were clinging perilously to the edge of the roof. It made more sense to drop straight down than to fall the extra few meters sideways. But as the weight transferred to his arms and hands, and as the ladder fell completely away from his feet, Emil noticed that he was going to dangle in such a way that he would be first swinging into the dangling position. He’d not thought of that; no time to.

As his body began to swing, it became clear to Emil that maybe after one or two swings back and forth, he was going to fall. Should he time it? Should he look down and judge when there might be a good time to actually let go and try and better brace himself for the impact? Surely that would be better than tumbling. He glanced down at the ground and everything went from white to grey to black so fast, the he was confident that there was no way to accurately judge his fall in the darkness.

A bolt of panic shot through his body as the fingers on his left hand suddenly felt like they were giving way. It became apparent to Emil, that since he was currently swinging to the right, if he lost his grip with his left hand mid-swing, he would likely tumble just enough in midair to land directly on his head.

Merry Christmas kid!” whispered a voice above and in front of Emil.

Emil was horrified and his mind froze in a panic. What was THAT!

From nowhere, a burly and strong hand firmly grasped Emil’s left hand just as it lost its grip on the roof. At the same moment, he lost his grip with his right hand, and again another strong hand shot out of nowhere and grasped the now free hand. Emil’s swinging motion quickly stopped, and he realized that his was now suspended from the roof by someone holding him up by his arms. It occurred to Emil how ridiculous he must look somehow hanging here. But wait, who the heh….heck, is holding me?

Terrified to look up, but equally terrified not to look up, Emil looked up. A shadow of a face peered at him from over the crest of the roof, but Emil could not make out any details of the face nor the arms and hands that were keeping him from falling. Only the top of a shadowy face from the nose up, and what appeared to be smiling eyes. How is someone suddenly laying on the crest of the roof of our sommerhus in the middle of the biggest blizzard in recent history on Christmas Day?

And Happy New Year’s too,” whispered the voice.

“Who…” but before Emil could say anything else, he felt the strong hands push backwards on Emil’s arms, simultaneously releasing its grip. Emil felt himself falling backwards, and it felt as though he was going to fall in such a way as to land directly on his back in the snow. The fall seemed to take forever, but Emil never stopped looking at the partially obscured and shadowy face staring back at him. The face and arms did not make sense, nor did it make sense as to why there was suddenly someone, appearing from nowhere, to stop Emil from falling off the ladder, only to throw him onto the ground and into the snow.

See ya around kid.

Whump! Emil landed flat on his back in the snow with a muffled thump. As he hit the ground, Emil noticed that the shadowy figure appeared to shoot away from the roof of the house in a blur and disappear into nothingness.

Brrrraap! The impact made Emil fart, and the snow now surrounding him seemed to amplify and cause his rectal turbulence to almost resonate in the snow.

“That was one egregious fart,” Emil said aloud to himself. “I hope to hell it wasn’t a wet one.”

*******

We hope you enjoyed that, Dear Reader. This year’s collection of Christmas short tall tales should be available later this week. Underdog Anthology X: Silence of the Elves will contain a bumper crop. Until then, have a Song 😉

Story Time: The Brush-Off (Part 1)

Good evening, Dear Reader. Many apologies for neglecting you here at the LoL these past couple of weeks; however, I have been busy writing ‘Lust Christmas’ for Underdog Anthology X: The Silence of the Elves

Gabbiano elf

*I agree, Clicky, that would be an excellent cover for the book…*

…Hopefully, it will be published later this week, but to get us in the mood, the Okie Devil, Cade Fon Apollyon, has kindly agreed to let me post his story ‘The Brush-Off’ from last year’s Christmas Underdog Anthology. I’ve split it into two and the second part will be posted tomorrow. So you’ll have to come back to find out what happens 😉

Enjoy, Dear Reader, enjoy…

*******

The Brush-Off

Cade F.O.N Apollyon

“Emil…can you hear me?” asked a female voice.

“Doctor, he’s showing signs of going into cardiac arrest,” warned a second woman’s voice. “Pulse rate dropping.”

The lights were so bright that Emil wasn’t quite sure if he’d actually heard the voices, or just imagined them. Did someone just say something about cardiac arrest?, Emil wondered to himself. Surely they cannot be talking about me.

“Emil,” asked the first voice, “I need to know if you can hear me. Give me a sign of any kind.” Her tone was much calmer and kinder than that of the second woman.

Emil felt as though his eyes were moving although he could not make out any detail as to if his eyes were actually seeing anything or not. White…nothing but white, he thought to himself. He felt as though he was drifting in a milky-sea of white where everything was drifting away, yet he could perceive nothing that indicated movement of any kind. So tired.

“Emil, I’ll only have one or two more minutes before I have to go. Can you try to give me any kind of indication that you hear me?”

My lips…where are my lips? I have to find my lips. “I can hear you,” Emil croaked.

“That’s good Emil. I can’t hear you, but I know you’ve heard me. That’s very good Emil.”

What in the hell are you doing here?!” boomed a man’s voice.

“Doctor, the patient is in cardiac arrest,” said the second woman.

“Who are you people. Where I am?” Emil interrupted.

“I came here because it appears to be time,” the first woman rebuked the man. “And Emil, you may call me Judy.”

Emil felt an acute astonishment. Judy? The first woman who spoke to me is named Judy? Who in this entire country is named Judy? “Judy, are you a nurse?” Emil asked sheepishly.

“Emil, I cannot hear you, but I assume that you can hear me. There’s going to be a lot of things going on that you will not understand right now, and they are going to be happening very rapidly. Just know that I am here for you, and…”

“I asked why you are here, Judy. Not what time it appears to be.” The man’s voice interrupted the woman calling herself Judy, although the tone was much softer now. It almost contained a hint of concern, and the way that he had accentuated the name ‘Judy’ almost sounded as if this man was also having trouble with the name. He doesn’t know her name either, Emil thought to himself.

Don’t shock him!” a second man’s voice shouted. “He’s got to survive this! Give him one milligram of atropine and reduce the alpha waves to eight point three hertz on The Hat.”

“Administering one milligram of atropine and reducing alpha to eight point three on The Hat,” the second woman replied.

“Judy, did you hear any of that? They’ve got the brain and the heart doing battle with the Vagus nerve,” said the first man rather sarcastically.

“You know that I heard what they are doing, and you also know that I know what they are doing. I simply wanted to be here if Emil was ready to speak. Emil, my name is Judy, you can call the asshole with the booming voice, Mike.”

“Mike, eh? I like Mike,” said Mike.

Emil was beginning to think to himself that he was the only person on Earth with an actual name, let alone a name that made any sense.

“Doctor, heart rate climbing, and regular sinus rhythm returning,” said the second woman’s voice.

“I knew it. He’s somehow building up static again. Nurse Pimlico, will you check all the ground wires in The Hat for proper connection while I get a techie up here to check the wall connections?”

“Did you hear that Judy? He knew it. Emil, this is Mike again, you are surrounded by a bunch of smart people that know everything, and you’re gonna be just fine.”

Emil heard Judy giggle at Mike’s statement. “I’m sorry Emil, I’m not laughing at you or your…current predicament, we’ll call it. Mike has the bedside manner of a goat, but he occasionally manages to be funny.”

So I am in a hospital, Emil reasoned. The humor was both familiar and welcome, but a wave of panic suddenly swept over him. Just as the panic was beginning to reach an almost paralytic state, Emil felt a soothing warmth emanate from some unknown point within his own being which seemed to brush the panic away. At that same moment, several black dots suddenly appeared and penetrated the overwhelming white in Emil’s view. But the black dots soon disintegrated rapidly into nothingness, leaving only the white.

“Doctor, we’ve just had a spike on beta waves.”

“That can’t be right Nurse Pimlico. He can’t have beta waves unless we feed them to him. Verify beta transducer is set to zero.”

“Yes, Doctor Jefferson. Can verify beta transducer setting zero with last logged input 24 September 2047.”

But I’m only fifteen years old. What could possibly be wrong with my heart? It suddenly occurred to Emil that whoever this first man “Mike” was, his sarcastic but bubbly temperament reminded him of his father. Wait a moment, did I just hear the nurse mention the year 2047? Mike’s hefty voice interrupted Emil’s thoughts.

“Judy, have you seen the white dots yet? There should be three of them.”

“The beta registered on the log and has been confirmed by the scrubbing algorithm. The burst of beta originated from within E.P. and not from The Hat,” said Nurse Pimlico.

EP? Emil thought intently to himself for a moment. This “EP” was suddenly the only thing that made sense, and it only took him a moment to work out the source of the familiarity…E.P., as in, Emil Pedersen? The nurse called me by my initials? Why is she using my initials and not my name?

“Okay Mike, I’ve got three white dots. Small, then broadening, and now fading to black with the smallest tinge of purple and grey.”

“Doctor, I’m showing another ping of beta waves and the scrubber algorithms immediately pegged them as internal. Would you like me to disable the beta probe at The Hat just to be sure?”

“Judy, Emil is going to start seeing black more often now, although I’m not sure as to exactly what kind of shapes that you can expect to see on your end. And Emil, I know that you can hear me, as well as you can hear Judy, the doctor and the nurse. Just be patient with us and know that we’re all working together to get you to where you need to be, okay?”

“Mike, I don’t know any of you and I don’t understand any of this,” Emil immediately responded. “I’m scared. Or at least, I feel like I should be scared, and I am scared, but I’m trying to understand. I’m trying to just listen.”

“Don’t disable beta. We may actually need to actuate beta at The Hat in order to lure his brain away from the idea that he can actually see.”

“Mike, more white. Three horizontal waves in rapid succession and a partial square with almost no duration at all.”

“Copy that Judy. I’m going to make a few quick adjustments to the gain on my end in order to see if I can give you a longer duration target.”

Emil suddenly became aware that he could hear someone tapping on something in a cadence that sounded like someone typing on a computer keyboard.

“Nurse Pimlico, I’ve just sent a request to Support and the Techie is two minutes away,” said Doctor Jefferson as he finished typing on and elevated computer touchscreen. “I’m going next door to check J.W. and see if we are getting bleedthough between units again. If the techie shows up before I return, have them immediately replace each ground at the wall in reverse order first, then remove and replace again forwards. Do you have that?”

“Yes Doctor Jefferson, disconnect and reconnect all ground wires, reverse order first, then again forwards.”

Doctor Jefferson gave a nod of approval, then spun smartly on his heels and disappeared out of the doorway.

“Mike, they’re still operating under the assumption that a re-grounding backwards is going to solve any polarity issues while The Hat is still hot.”

“Well, Judy, we’ll just have to work that much harder to get you a fix on Emil’s direct communication pathways before they do something really stupid.”

I’m beginning to wonder if I even need to be here for this, Emil wondered to himself. “How in the heh…heck…did I get into this mess?” Emil attempted to speak aloud, but caught himself before he said hell and not heck.

“Judy, you aren’t going to like this, but I think I just heard Emil attempting not to curse.”

“Mike…you can hear him?”

“Emil, this is your new pal Mike, can you hear me?”

“Yes Mike, I can hear you. Can you hear me?” Silence. “Mike, I can hear you. Can, you, hear, me?”

“Yes I can hear you now Emil. Judy, this is going to be another rough one.”

“You’ll do fine Mike.”

“Emil, this is Mike. Judy wanted to be the first to speak with you, but it looks like you are stuck with me for the time being. You can likely distinguish all the voices you are hearing at this time, but only me and you can speak directly at this time, OK?”

Knock knock. Emil was suddenly distracted from replying to Mike by the rapping sounds that came in quick succession on what sounded like a door, although Emil couldn’t tell exactly where the knocks came from.

“Tech?” asked Nurse Pimlico.

“Yes, I’m Archer. I was told this is a Level One response.”

“You are one minute early Tech Archer.”

“I was nearby when I got the call. Do you have instructions for me?”

“Tech Archer, please disconnect and reground all grounds at the wall in reverse order.”

“Yes ma’am, nurse…” Tech Archer paused in his query because he could not see the nurse’s nametag clearly from his vantage point in the doorway. However, he could make out the insignia on her uniform. Level seventeen. Two grades above me. Be respectful, be mindful, and be cautious, Archer.

“Pimlico. Once all grounds have been reconnected, disconnect and reconnect again in forward sequence.”

“Reverse first, then forward…I’m on it,” Archer confirmed.

“Can you authenticate parity as you go?” Nurse Pimlico queried.

“Was parity check also requested by the acting doctor?”

“Not specifically, no. Doctor Jefferson is next door with the J.W. unit and will be back momentarily. He’s almost sure to request it when he returns. I just…”

“Nurse Pimlico, I recommend that you allow me to do what was requested, as requested, and we’ll proceed from there if that’s OK with you.”

“I knew it Judy, they are about to make things much worse than they need to actually be.”

“I knew it too Mike. But at least one of us somehow got to Emil before they botched things like with…”

“Like they botched things with me? I’m over that now Judy. I’ve moved on.”

“I’d like to believe that Mike, but I know you too well.”

“You don’t know me at all Judy, and you never will if you keep that up.”

“Posturing will get you nowhere with me…Michael. How about we focus on Emil and getting him where he needs to be so he doesn’t end up like you.”

“Or you…Judith.”

“Or me…Mike. I don’t want Emil ending up like either of us.”

“Me either. You’ll be going white soon Jude. It could be a long time.”

“I know that Mike, but I’m as ready for it as I can be.”

“Emil, it’s Mike here. I appreciate the fact that you can hear us all, yet don’t know what any of us are talking about. But please know that we really are doing the best that we can to make any transition as quick and painless as possible. Does that sound okay with you? Emil? Emil can you still hear me?”

Silence.

“Judy, I think we’ve temporarily lost Emil completely. You might want to brace yourself.”

“Mike, if only they’d listen to Nurse Pimlico. Just once.”

“I’ll be here for you if you get back Judy.”

“I know you will Mike. I know you will.”

~ ~ ~

Doctor Jefferson strode purposefully back into the room where the unit known as “E.P.” was laying on the gurney attached to a monstrosity of wires and tubes. He stopped suddenly in the middle of the room upon noticing the individual crouched by the opposite side wall near the floor facing away from him. “And you are?”

“Not to be addressed directly while I’m working on re-grounding The Hat, I’ll not ask you again.”

“Excellent. A stickler for protocol,” said Doctor Jefferson with a smile.

The man crouched on the ground did not appear to flinch at all, but responded coolly without missing a beat. “That goes equally for personal annotations or any other verbal utterances that reference me directly. Last warning to anyone currently in the room.”

Nurse Pimlico sensed the rapidly building tension and interjected. “Doctor, may I see you outside?”

Doctor Jefferson smirked as he gave the tech’s back a last look, spun on his heels, and then waved Nurse Pimlico out towards the hallway. As he fell in line behind her to exit the room, he felt a great deal of satisfaction in knowing that the protocols that he himself devised were being followed to the letter. In a crisis situation no less. Whoever this guy was, he had balls. He was ready to call security and have my citizenship stripped from me and jailed for life, simply for speaking to him. He never even turned to see who I was nor check my rank. Excellent. Most excellent. The video feeds of this real-world exchange would make for an excellent example to use in tech training. Excellent to pass along to the executive and legislative branches as well. Should show that The Protocols are working exactly as advertised. Doctor Jefferson made a mental note to put in a request to retrieve the security recordings for, he looked at his watch, 25 December 2065 at 16:16. Excellent.

As soon as they entered the hallway, Nurse Pimlico immediately spoke, “Doctor, the technician’s name is Archer. Junior Tech, Level Fifteen according to his insignia.”

“Did you ask him to check bias?”

“No. I asked if he would mind checking parity.”

“And did he agree?”

“No Doctor Jefferson, he refused, and he was stern but kind about it.”

“Nurse Pimlico, I realize that you are the one who devised the idea of the parity spot checks upon any and all maintenance to The Hat in a live environment. I also know that your suggestion was a technical one, and not something that you’d hoped to see worked in as a security measure for authenticating the validity of an employee’s presence in restricted areas and loyalty to The Protocols. However, these organisms that we use for harvesting data get more and more dodgy as they age. The less we do in a crisis situation, the better the outcome has proven to be.”

“I can appreciate that Doctor, and I also understand the necessity of protocol. We are attempting to standardize the flow of information, not invent ways to deviate from the standardization process.”

“Indeed we are not, Nurse Pimlico.”

“Doctor, I would like to remind you that my simulations have shown that times of acute trauma may sometimes be the source of the machine ghosts. That the ghosts may be a dormant bit of information that is in fact triggered by a sequence of events that is running in less-standard times than our own.”

“And that’s the key, Nurse Pimlico. We operate forward in time, and so must our data. The only way to identify and isolate any such anomalies in time, should they in fact exist, is to let them come to us. If we seek them out, who knows where we might wind up. Or better stated, when, we might wind up.”

“I understand Doctor.”

“I don’t think you do, Nurse Pimlico. But what’s say we change that. Are you aware of my wife and her grandfather-in-law’s work back in the early part of this century?”

“I am aware that such work exists, but I have no knowledge of the work itself. It is all classified.”

“You are not up for promotion review for another eighteen months if I am not mistaken.”

“That is correct, sir.”

“Oh now, don’t fall back onto your military training just yet, Nurse Pimlico. Doctor, please.”

“My apologies, Doctor Jefferson.”

“You are also three grades away from attaining the needed rank to potentially have access to such information. However, I think it time that you were introduced to some of the more…finite, complexities of what it is we do here.”

“Thank you Doctor. But I must remind you that deviation from the Protocol of Established Standards and Procedures will not only red-flag me for the remainder of my career, it could also red-flag you.”

“My faith in you grows by the minute, Nurse Pimlico.” Doctor Jefferson beamed. “Although there is one thing for you to keep in mind, should you continue your journey into the upper-echelons of the infrastructure which makes our society tick.”

“And what is that Doctor?”

Doctor Jefferson smiled, then leaned in somewhat towards Nurse Pimlico and lowered his voice. “A red flag is not always a bad thing to have next to your name.”

Nurse Pimlico blinked a stunned blink and felt as though she were blushing. Is he…testing me? Hitting on me? Both? Nurse Pimlico quickly gathered her senses so as to reestablish her composure. I’ve got to get out of this situation… and fast. Too dangerous. I just need an out.

“I am finished in here for any jocund and loquacious souls who wish to return,” Tech Archer called from inside the room.

Doctor Jefferson’s smile broadened as he slowly withdrew from the closer proximity to Nurse Pimlico’s personal space, but his eyes never left hers. “After you, Nurse.”

OK, so, he didn’t size me up with his eyes, so, he wasn’t hitting on me. He’s testing me. Get those thick thighs of yours to moving, Pimilco. Get your muscular ass back in that room double-quick, and get straight to the diagnostics on The Hat. “Thank you Doctor Jefferson.”

Nurse Pimlico strode into the room with all of the dignity and haste that she could muster under the sudden stresses of the moment, and noticed that Technician Archer was sitting in the lotus position on the floor near where the large bundle of grounding wires ran from The Hat into the wall.

“I figured that I would stay here in the event that parity suddenly needed to be checked, assuming that is Okay with all concerned,” the seated technician volunteered.

Nurse Pimlico was having difficulty interpreting the smile that now occupied Tech Archer’s face as being either friend or foe. “I’ve no issue with it if Doctor Jefferson has no objections.” Nurse Pimlico changed her focus in the direction of Doctor Jefferson to await a response.

“I’ve no objections Nurse Pimlico,” said Doctor Jefferson.

“But we do need to run a full diagnostic on The Hat. That could take upwards of an hour or more.”

“I’ve no objections to that either Nurse Pimlico. All I have is time on this fine day formerly known as Christmas, and Tech Archer is free to spend as much time as he would like sitting on the floor if he so desires.”

“I understand Doctor Jefferson. Estimated time to completion of diagnostics will be sixty-four minutes on my mark…mark! Diagnostics started and running, Doctor Jefferson.”

“Excellent Nurse Pimlico,” said Doctor Jefferson as he reached for one of the empty rolling chairs and pulled it to him. He released an audible sigh of relief upon occupying the chair, and turned his attentions to the technician who was sitting on the floor.“Junior Technician Archer, Level 15, if all goes well, you now have approximately sixty-three plus minutes for you to tell me about what you are working on for you next advancement thesis. Assuming, that you are you are submitting yourself for advancement review, that is.”

“I am indeed Doctor Jefferson, and I’ve already picked my topic.” Tech Archer’s somewhat cavalier but laid-back outward demeanor experienced a sudden radical shift to something somewhat more exuberant and excitable.

“Oh really Archer. Do tell.”

“Global H20 Dynamics.”

“Global, H20, Dynamics…my oh my you do think big young man. I’ve Nurse Pimlico chasing subatomic bitwise ghosts and other mysterious free-radicals, and Tech Archer considering the global dynamics of water and it’s components.” Doctor Jefferson leaned back in is chair and raised his arms in a somewhat mocking celebratory moment of zen. “The gods have favored me on this previously sacred day and blessed me with the company of giants.” He quickly dropped his hands and leaned forward in his seat towards Technician Archer’s position on the floor. “And I do not in any way, shape or form mean that in a contemptuous or demeaning way Technician Archer, to which Nurse Pimlico can attest, can you not Nurse Pimlico?”

“I can indeed inform Tech Archer that the levity displayed by Doctor Jefferson is not one of contempt nor mockery. Tell him your tale Archer, but I can tell you from experience, tell it as it needs be told.”

“She is correct Tech Archer. Tell it as it needs be told. You have my undivided until I say otherwise. Oh, and the captain has turned off the please remain seated on the floor sign. Feel free to get up and move about the cabin if so inclined Junior Technician Archer.”

~ ~ ~

The cabin’s fireplace crackled as Emil lay on the floor basking in it’s warmth; engaged in glorious battle on his new Nintendo Switch. He would have preferred a set of drums for Christmas, but he was more or less contented with the fact that his parents were unlikely to ever endorse his owning a drum set while he still lived at home. Emil understood. The apartment back home in Copenhagen was not the best of environments for a future rock star to live, and keeping the drums here in the sommerhus at Bornholm wasn’t practical. I’d practically never get to practice, Emil thought sarcastically to himself as his thumbs worked feverishly to keep his elven character alive. Lort! I died! thought Emil to himself as his on-screen character completed it’s pre-programmed death-throes then slumped into a heap amid the grassy lands of Hyrule.

“Søn, would you mind going outside and checking the roof to see what the snow looks like?” Emil’s father called from the kitchen area. He was putting away the day’s now clean and dried dishes. “It probably needs to be brushed off again before bed.”

“Sure Pop. I just died anyway,” replied Emil, pushing himself up from the floor with a grunt. “Do you want me to go ahead and setup the ladder?” He and his father had already been through this exercise three times over the past two days, and it was almost old-hat to Emil at this point.

“Only if it looks like the roof needs to be cleared Emil,” answered his father. “I don’t want us to be out in the cold if we don’t have to.”

Emil placed his Nintendo Switch on the small table next to the sofa where his mother was seated, and noticed that she was engaged in a battle of her own. She had opened and was sorting the contents of the new sewing kit she’d received as a gift during the previous night’s festivities, and it appeared to contain somewhere between ten and twenty billion individual strands of thread. Emil delayed his forward momentum towards the door, and watched for a moment as his mother wrestled with identifying and separating the various colored threads.

“Well, you still appear to be quite nimble and able-bodied for a dead man,” his mother said without looking up. “And if you are standing there wondering where your bathing suit is located, it’s most likely still in your suitcase dear.” His mother glanced up at him briefly with a smirk smeared across her shining face, before she returned her attention to the mass of threads in her hands. “Assuming you remembered to pack it for the trip, that is.”

“Mor, I think I forgot it,” Emil said in the best ‘fake-astonishment’ voice that he could muster.

“Well then, I guess you’ll probably just have to settle for the coat, hat and mittens hanging on the rack near the door.” His mother again looked up and smiled at Emil.

He returned the smile, said nothing, and went to assemble his gear for the trek outdoors.

“I’ll be a minute or two behind you, Emil,” called his father from the kitchen.

Emil sat down on the small bench near the door, and began to pull on his boots. He glanced over his shoulder out the window at the snow that was falling outside. Good grief! It’s never snowed like this in Denmark before. Not ever. 44 centimeters of snow was predicted for today, and that’s on top of what we’ve already gotten. The whitest of white Christmases in Dansk history, or so they are saying on the news. The Great Blizzard of 2018.

Emil finished lacing his boots, stood, then reached for his heavy coat that felt still somewhat damp. He then donned his hat and gloves, which were also still feeling slightly soggy and not yet dry, then reached for the handle on the door. “I’m going out and up,” Emil said as he gave the new Nintendo Switch resting on the small end-table a final glance.

“OK søn. I’ll be right behind you in a few,” replied his father.

His mother, who was otherwise engaged with the threads from her needlepoint kit said nothing.

Emil opened the door and walked outside into the cold darkness in front of him, then pulled the door tightly closed behind him and gave it a final push just to be sure. I don’t want to make the mistake of leaving the door slightly ajar again.

*******

See you for the second part of ‘The Brush-Off’ tomorrow, Dear Reader, when all will be revealed. Have a Song ❤

 

Story Time: Secret of the Flaming Zombies

 Welcome, Dear Reader…

Previously at the LoL

*Thank you, Clicky… /lights up and smokes…*

… to one of this year’s Halloween tales…

Stranger Zombies

*That’s Sarah from work and her mate Nina. They love cosplay…*

stranger things steve the sailor.gif

*Oh yeah. And Sarah’s a huge Underdog Anthology fan… /grins*

… from Underdog Anthology IX: Well Haunted. Enjoy! ❤

*******

Secret of the Flaming Zombies

By Roo B. Doo

Fucking Halloween again, and Lol and I were attempting to simultaneously drown and burn the horror of my working day, surrounded by flaming zombies, with a continuous flow of Flaming Zombies. It was Lol’s cockeyed theory and we were testing it to destruction at our favourite watering hole, downing the bar’s ‘Halloween Cocktail Special’.

Of course ‘working’ is meant in its loosest possible sense, as no work gets done on Halloween at F.A. Kontrell. For the past three years, the stupid fancy dress competition, themed staff activities and spurious assertion that “it’s for charity, Harry,” has trumped all else. It was especially galling this year to hear The Fat Kontroller’s echoing predications regarding the fancy dress competition’s alleged philanthropic underpinnings, dressed as he was as the 45th President of the United States. I assumed it was Donald Trump my boss was attempting to portray, but he may have been going for ‘grotesque Oompa Loompa’. Or perhaps he was attempting to recreate what our mouthy receptionist Shazza looks like at her very best. Like there’s much of a difference between any of those. Sad!

It had taken most of the evening and several rounds of drinks, but Lol and I had finally managed to exorcise much of the contempt I felt for my work colleagues, and were about to embark on solving the abomination that is my love life.

“Ya know what your problem is, Harry?” Lol mashed his neatly manicured but highly intoxicated finger against my chest. He leaned in conspiratorially in order to tell me beneath the hubbub of the bar. “You’re never gonna find love ‘cos you’ve still got the hots for Jodie.”

“Who’s Jodie?” I returned his finger prod with an equally intoxicated index finger prod of my own. Not as manicured as Lol’s but then he’s always been something of a tart with regards to his appearance.

Lol looked momentarily confused. “Jodie from your office, Jodie. You know, ‘The Goddess With The Never Ending Legs’,” he smirked.

“Oh you mean Josie. Well, she’s gone now,” I replied glumly.

Josie had been F.A. Kontrell’s HR temptress; the angel with an elfin face, framed by raven black curls, atop of a smoking hot body, had left for another job at the start of the year. I’d felt bereft every day since but more so today, as Josie’s choice of Halloween costume for the past two years were not only glorious to behold in the flesh, but the memory of her ‘Wonder Woman’ and ‘Little Mermaid’ outfits still warms the cockles of my lonely heart. Particularly at night, in bed.

“Come on, Harry,” Lol said, shaking my shoulder in a misguided attempt to lift my spirits. “That girl was always out of your league. She spurned all your advances.”

It could have been the alcohol, or the fact I’d been keeping a secret from my best friend for nearly a year, but I suddenly felt the urge to wipe the smug look off his face. Lol’s a bank manager – they always look smug; it’s part of their job description. “Who says she spurned all my advances?”

What?!

Success! I thought evilly and sucked noisily on the straw in my hurricane glass, hoovering up its alcoholic remnants and rattling the ice. “You get another round of these in, Money Bags, and I’ll tell you all about it.”

Somehow Lol managed to sport a look of utter disbelief and wide-eyed wonder. “Really? You actually found where the never-ending legs finish? I don’t believe you, Harry.”

“Certainly did!” I burped indignantly, handing my empty glass to Lol. “Not only found, but explored and defiled. Supped upon her licksure of life.” I giggled at my own joke; it was either that or cry.

Lol’s jaw dropped. “Fuck off, you never said! When was this?” he asked with rising incredulity.

“Last Christmas.”

“Oof, Harry! Wham!” Lol feigned a smack to the jaw.

“Oh yeah, Deadpoo’?” I slurred, shooing him off toward the bar. “Then prepare for a double whammy – I wasn’t the only one on the expedition.”

It never ceases to amaze me why dropping a glass in public elicits a round of applause from strangers.

*******

Deadpoo Shocked.gif

*Quite! …/stubs butt… Now I’ve gotta write it…*

The story continues in ‘Lust Christmas’, which will appear in Underdog Anthology X: Subtitle tbc. Out in time for Christmas 😀 Dear Reader, have a Song…

* Can I hear cowbell? …/thinks…*

Story Time: ‘Cos Play’s The Thing!

Welcome, Dear Reader…

walk this way.gif

*Appropriate… /lights up and smokes… Very nice, Clicky…*

…to last year’s Halloween tale!

youre putting me on

*Shh, Clicky, let Dear Reader read…*

Enjoy! ❤

*******

‘Cos Play’s The Thing!

By Roo B. Doo

I was having a lovely dream. The sort of dream you dream about having. Josie was sat over me, exquisitely filling her Wonder Woman costume with her tanned and taut flesh. Her righteous arse cheeks, spread, hovered tantalizingly above my face, the blue silky gusset that ran between them was nearly within touching distance.

“Copy that, Elvis. Coming in to land,” Josie said curtly, followed by a burst of static. “And I hope to God Harry has managed to get the undercarriage down.”

It was then that I realised we were about to crash. I hadn’t been able to find the invisible landing gear that Josie had implored me to fix. The one on her invisible plane, the plane she was now bringing in to land. I looked down past my feet at the ground zooming up toward me, before stealing one last glance up at the in-flight entertainment above. “Oh fuck!”

I woke in a sweaty start to the urgent buzzing of my iPhone on the bedside table. “I’m up!” I yelled into the cool, empty darkness, before hitting the snooze button and flopping back onto my pillow, clutching the phone to my gut. It felt smooth and hard against my hot skin.

I’d been dreaming of the Josie again, F.A. Kontrell’s HR Manager and the office goddess I’d been lusting after since the Fat Kontroller, our boss, had hired her into the fold two years ago. Last year she’d dressed as Wonder Woman for Halloween, and just like in my dream, Josie had filled the skintight costume to perfection. In real life. Unfortunately, and exactly like my dream, she remains just as elusive. One day, I sighed and snuggled back down under the duvet to review the highlights of this latest dreamy romp. The next time my mobile phone suddenly vibrated into life, the intrusion was much more welcome.

Hallo-fucking-ween again, I thought malevolently when I finally got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. I’d never been fond of the ritualised bollocks foisted on us as markers of time – Christmas, Easter, Halloween – but since the Fat Kontroller had given our bitch of a receptionist, Shazza, carte blanche to organise the festivities, I’d come to dread their arrival for the inevitable disaster that followed.

Last year, the old boy had been railroaded into a last minute ‘dress up for charity’ celebration of all things Halloweeny by Shazza, whilst I’d been out of the country, enjoying the delights of Ibiza on a well deserved break. That sorry episode had resulted in a blood-splattered bathroom, a year’s worth of PTSD therapy for Ian, our lanky and highly impressionable apprentice, and a grand sum of £22.50 raised for a charity – still undisclosed – a fiver of which was extorted from me for not not knowing I needed a costume!

Well not this year; this year I was prepared thanks to Dana Cossetti, high-flying VP of the American conglomerate that has recently swallowed F.A. Kontrell’s biggest client, Clovis, whole. We’d been introduced to each other back in the spring, whilst Dana was making a whistle-stop tour of her firm’s European acquisitions, and the Fat Kontroller was looking to secure the lucrative contract he’d signed with Clovis by any means necessary.

Any initial disgust I felt at being pimped out by my boss was soon dwarfed by lust for his selected john the moment I clapped eyes Dana Cossetti’s legs and heard her earthy, Texan drawl. And being a Yank, she took both Halloween and competition very seriously indeed…

Dana Harry Convo 1

Despite the godawful hour, arriving first at the office does have certain benefits: picking the best parking spot for one thing, lack of Shazza for another. Mainly it allows me to get on with some productive work before the Fat Kontroller rolls in. Today it also meant I could get changed into my Halloween costume with some degree of privacy before the rest of the rabble arrived. Except upon arrival I found the security alarm switched off and the main door unlocked. I pushed it open and peered into the deserted, unlit office beyond. “Hello?”

Shit! I bet he’s here already, I fumed, striding round to my desk, expecting to see the Fat Kontroller. I was stopped in my tracks though by a loud thud from the other side the office. Not him then, I surmised and changed direction, curious to see who’d beat me in to work. “Who’s that?” I called out but was greeted with silence.

Perhaps it was the date or that the far side of the office was bathed in deep shadows, weakly lit by the meagre daylight that eked through from beneath the window blinds, but it felt very spooky. I suddenly felt the urge to creep. What if it’s a burglar? I thought. Why the fuck didn’t you switch the overhead lights on? I shifted the garment bag carrying my costume to over my shoulder and crept forward, Scooby Doo style.

“Hello, who’s there?” Nothing. I picked up a stapler from a nearby desk and held it open in front of me. Oh yeah, that’s bound to scare off an intruder. Why not brandish a fucking ruler and threaten a stinging slap?

“Harry, is that you?” Golden light flooded the corner of the room as the door to the far office opened. Josie poked her head out sideways, her raven tresses tumbling down in a waterfall of curls. She looked relieved to see me. “Oh thank God, I need some help with this thing.”

Pfft, burglar. I strolled up to her office, getting rid of the stapler as nonchalantly as I could on the way. “Sure. What’s the-” I felt my jaw drop. “Problem?”

“It’s stuck,” Josie gasped, looking over her bare shoulder. She was wrestling with the zip at the small of her back. “The zip feels stuck but I can’t see why. Will you have a look?”

If last year’s Wonder Woman costume had been a joy to behold, then Josie’s mermaid effort today was nothing short of a triumph of form over fantasy. Hallelujah! my brain screamed.

“Wow, great costume,” I croaked, sinking to my knees. It was going to take every ounce of willpower to not press my face up against her fulsome, metallic gold arse, and kiss it. Profusely, scaly or not.

“It’s a bit elaborate,” she purred, running a delicate, tanned hand over the flare of her hips and down the curvy, shimmering, fish scale printed fabric. “But I couldn’t resist,” she informed me with a girlish giggle and a swish of her tail.

Oh you’re fucking killing me! I mentally wailed but decided to keep my mouth shut: my hands were shaking, my eyeballs were sweating; I couldn’t be any more nervous if faced with a bomb, pliers in hand and commanded to cut. I furtively licked my lips. “Um…”

“Can you see where it’s caught?” Josie asked pushing her fishtail arse closer to my face.

Breathe, you idiot! I took a gulp of air and dived in. “I think it’s caught on the lining.” I tugged and pulled gingerly with nervous fingers until the zip and lining freed themselves of each other. With a sigh of relief, I fastened her costume up with a smooth zziiipp and sat back on my heels. “You look… magnificent.”

“Oh thanks, Harry.” Josie tottered round and gave me a full frontal of her washboard stomach and the pink clam shells cup bikini top that shielded her perky breasts. I could have quite happily sat there all day but she held out her hand to help me up. She spotted my garment bag discarded on the floor. “Ooh so you did remember to bring a costume this year?”

My costume? I’d quite forgotten all about my costume; my costume had been completely blown out of my mind by the way she looked in her costume.

Missing out on the chance to win a bottle of Glenfarclas for best costume at last year’s Halloween hullabaloo had stung. The Fat Kontroller had donated it as first prize and he only ever drank the finest whisky. I’d idly mentioned it to Dana, who taken this year’s competition as something of a challenge. My costume was really Dana’s costume; the only input I had was to simply wear it, and share first prize with her when next she was in town. A Christmas date I was looking forward to immensely .

“Come on, what are you wearing?” Josie asked impatiently.

Well this is awkward, I thought with a mental grimace. I rocked up onto to my feet and started to unzip the bag. “Funny story, Josie. An American mate sent this to me about a month ago…”

Dana Harry Convo 2

“Oh my God, Harry, we’re both mermaids for the day!” Josie laughed, freeing the fishtail of my costume from its protective casing so that she could fondle it. Strange, she seemed genuinely delighted that, essentially, someone else would be wearing the same frock as her. “We’ll be twins!”

“If you mean like Schwarzenegger and Devito, then yeah… Totally!”

“Oh Harry, don’t be so hard on yourself,” Josie said coyly, perching on her desk and lazily swinging her legs so that her fishtail glittered and gleamed. “You don’t look anything like Danny Devito.”

Fuck! Is she flirting with me? “Whereas you look exactly like Arnold Schwarzenegger?”

Josie picked up a shell encrusted mirror from the desk and peered at her reflection. “Only when I’m on my period.” She quickly placed the mirror back down. “Hey, I know. If you changed now, we can go sit out on reception and wait for the others to arrive.”

Here? She wants me to take my clothes off here? I was confused and still reeling from her flirting. If that was flirting. I decided not to chance it. “Okay, I’ll go to the ladies.”

“No!” She slid off the desk and bunny hopped toward me. “No time to lose. I’ll help you. These things can be a bugger to get into.”

“Well alright then,” I said shrugging off my coat and biting my lips to disguise my grin. “You know Shazza’s gonna be pissed when she gets in and finds us camped on reception.”

“Better than that, she’ll be absolutely horrified!” Josie flashed a wicked smile and plucked the garment bag from my hand so that I could get undressed. “Happy Halloween Harry.”

Dana Harry Convo 3

*******

Igor eye wobble

*Way to roll your eyes, Clicky… /stubs butt…*

Doo come back on Thursday for ‘Secret of the Flaming Zombies’, a tale from Underdog Anthology 9: Well Haunted. In fact come back any time you like, Dear Reader. And have a Song 😀

Missive From ‘Merica: #141 Hellifino

Dear Reader, the splendid artwork on the new Underdog Anthology…

UA9 Cover

*/lights up… Thank you, Clicky…*

… was provided by a gentleman called Gary V. Foss. A poem by Sam Walter Foss is reproduced by Cade in his new missive, below…

friends its all relative 1

 

*No idea… /drags… I know Cade met up with MEROVEE Frank this week… /plumes smoke… And it’s possible they share an ancestor…*

friends its all relative 2.gif

*Yeah, Jen was there too… /smokes… Could you butt out now, Clicky? I’m try to introduce Cade’s missive… /sighs… Now I’ve completely lost my train of thought…*

*******

When you make all my dreams come true···

···you’re basically taking all my dreams away from me.

Maybe even taking from me···

···my ability to dream.

Q: Now what?

A: . . . ─ ─ ─ . . .

Unfulfilled dreams potentially being a key to immortality. Almost doesn’t make any sense. Guess it all depends on what type of individual you are, and maybe whether or not you like to share.

^Swedish House Mafia – One (Original Mix)^

How to relate such a seemingly complex concept. I know! Let’s do a sing along type thingie! I’m gonna put a poem here by Sam Walter Foss called “Two Gods”, and I’ll put this here audio recitation of the poem performed by MC 900 Ft. Jesus so you can read along.

Sam Walter Foss
MC 900 Ft. Jesus
Hell With The Lid Off
God
Dream
Memory Consolidation

Won’t this be fun? We can get our dream(s) back on.

_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_=_

A boy was born ‘mid little things…between a little world and sky.

And dreamed not of the cosmic rings round which the circling planets fly.

He lived in little works and thoughts…where little ventures grow and plod.

And paced and plowed his little plots…and prayed unto his little god.

But as the mighty system grew…his faith grew faint with many scars.

The cosmos widened in his views…but God was lost among his stars.

Another boy in lowly days…as he to little things was born.

But gathered lore in woodland ways and from the glory of the morn.

As wider skies broke on his view…God greatened in his growing mind.

Each year he dreamed his god anew…and left his older god behind.

He saw the boundless scheme dilate…in star and blossom…sky and clod.

And as the universe grew great…he dreamed for it…a greater god.

¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯=¯

A step further. I’m wondering about that one further step. That seed which feeds the need to dream and/or continue dreaming when all is done and there’s nothing left to do. One more thing do to. One step beyond? One thing? What makes reality? Is that maybe what made reality? The absence of dreams and dreaming? Oh, and Happy Friday shitforbrains. Only six days until Halloweed.

^MC 900 ft. Jesus – Bill’s dream^

My youngest was in discussion with Whatshername the other day whilst I was in getting a drink, and he commented that, “Halloween didn’t seem to fit the fall model.”

It didn’t fit. Doesn’t jibe. I piped up and said, “That’s the point. Compliment via contrast.”

He told me, “that makes no sense.”

I laughed, agreed, then sauntered away from the conversation.

Have thought about it a lot since then tho. Because of where I live, “fall” could arrive anywhere from late July to late December. Just depends on the amount of rain(s), and/or when the cold finally arrives…if it arrives at all. Not to mention that we here in the USA have that mysterious “Thanksgiving” holiday that baffles the living fuck out of the rest of the planet, and it’s right there in the middle between Halloween and Christmas. My thoughts on “the season of fall” differ somewhat from his. Is it my job as a father to remedy that? Or is it best that I let him formulate his own opinion(s).

I'll keep you posted
^Must Be The Feeling^

Thanksgiving kinda fits a bit with Halloween, and Christmas and Thanksgiving kinda fits with each other, but Halloween and Christmas are like…polar opposites. I guess that’s how he’s seeing it anyway. Makes sense, but also not. When I think about all three of those holidays, I think trees. Food is also a prevalent theme in all three, and so is/are family/families. But Christmas and Thanksgiving are kinda more-closed loops, whereas Halloween is kinda open in that and those regard(s). Public. Strangers. Parties. Trick or Treating. Unknown and unknowns.

Lots of maybes

Maybe that’s where a secret lay in the mystery of the somewhat ostracized nature of Halloween. Or at least, within public perception(s) and/or perceptions of public perception(s).

^Showtek – We Like To Party (Original Mix)^

Ya know, another thing is that Halloween in its current incarnation (at least here in the US) is kind of an evolving thing. It’s no longer just “dress up your house a bit to make it look scary, play scary music out the window and give away candy to trick or treaters”.

Its a growth industry

People are starting to go fucking nuts over it, and not just and only a few weirdos and extremists here and there. Streets are as likely to have houses decorated at Halloween as they are to have their houses decorated at Christmas. I’d imagine the current growth of Halloween is somewhat like the growth of Christmas in the 1950’s and 1960’s. The Great Pumpkin has gone commercial.

^Rocky Horror Time Warp^
DO A BARREL ROLL!!!
^Do a barrel roll !^

When I think of sleep with no dreams, the first thing I think of is death. That’s probably a kinda normal thought amongst “the living”. But my own mind runs to my death-dream/sleep-paralysis, then straight to Thoth and something said about these “12 that sleep forever”. Mainly because I’ve often wondered what it is that provides us humans and other lifeforms with the ability to dream.

Would it be possible that there was an original dreamer who ran out of dreams, dreams no more, and as a result, we can dream our own dreams? Admittedly, if you’re of the agnostic, atheistic or similar faith(s), you aren’t gonna think that there was some original creator(s)/dreamer(s) out there somewhere who thought this whole nightmarish mess up…it just happened. But what I’m also thinking is that maybe there was a “dream pool” and this original dreamer and/or original dreamers didn’t drink the dream well dry. Maybe he/her/them/they or whatever just drank their fill then took a break so that all the shiznit and stuffs they created could actually do what they were created to do. Which, one reason at least, may have been…

to dream

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah, those 12 sleeping fuckers who appear to be able to be able to go anywhere they want, at any time, and can known men’s minds or however it was worded.

^Stealing Sheep – Show Love^

Loads of stuff we don’t understand. Might be aware of something, maybe not. Irrespective of awareness, we may not understand whatever it is we are aware of. Frank Davis kinda touched on this topic a bit yesterday.

Why Can’t I Build Cancer Models?

 

I’m headed a different direction than Frank, but will wind up in the same general vicinity.

Aura
Field
Aura (Paranormal)
Aura
Field (Physics)
Field
Luciferin
Luciferase
Photoprotein
Field = To go out and fight

Weird. Anyway, we’ve got these fields around us, and these fields around us have other fields contained within this field. So what is driving us? Dark? Light? Both? Some other weird, crazy, and otherwise funky shit we’re missing? Prolly more to light, than just and only light. Gotta consider not only light, but its source and sources. Giving some consideration to the properties and states of light might help. And what I’m thinking here is…

why do work that is already being done?

If you can leech off of an existing process, maybe you utilize an intermediary, you can then ponder the merits of symbiosis and/or more/less symbiotic relationships. What is/is not intrusive, creative, additive, argumentative, complimentary, disruptive, destructive, malicious, benevolent?

etc..
^Highasakite – Mexico (Official Music Video)^

If you’re having trouble following, maybe instead of thinking just and only photons. Maybe venture a bit outside of the “light box” with respect to the transference and eventual dissemination and interpretation of information and data. Maybe think about electrons, associated binaries, message delivery and transportation systems of all kinds, then maybe have a peek at the data(s) that is/are being transferred, via what mediums, why…

shit like that

The Telephone Game is a good representation as to data handoffs and data integrity, what checks are implemented, where and why, etc.. I recently brought back up “the 8 levels of darkness” again. There are actually 15 levels, but the point is how things move, where, and why they move that way, in a particular environment.

8 down

7 in

1 immovable

7 out

8 up

I’ve not given “the light levels” much thought, primarily because the dark levels are in fact “light levels”. They just operate differently. Plenty of light in the dark; it just behaves differently. And if you’re thinking dark matter/dark energy, you’re not on the wrong track.

That said, I don’t know if I am on the right track in thinking that these dark rings are in fact the reorganizational processes that create the dark matter/energy and act as the conduit between matter and antimatter. But that’s what I’ve been seeing for several years now, and the addition of time in any all instances when penetrating the rings tends to kick me out, so to speak. I don’t think it’s necessarily that time does not exist nor cannot exist there. Maybe just a matter of it not existing in the same way and ways.

I do know I had an inkling of how to actually split a Quark this morning, and it scared the fuck out of me. Primarily because a few years ago, I saw, potentially anyway, a way that Quarks might have infinite up/down properties within a single particle. Infinite positive and negative charges. They were ridiculously long, yet finite, and my mind instantly ran to strings. Not given the topic much thought since then. Not till this morning anyway.

^Swedish House Mafia ft. John Martin – Don’t You Worry Child (Official Video)^

That poem was written a really long time ago.

Two Gods

If you had told me at age 10, that a poem like that was written in the late 1800’s, I woulda said you were fucking nuts. Everyone “back then” was god-fearing and pure. So I was told anyway.

^Chromatics – Tick Of The Clock^

Some teachers prolly get sick and fucking tired of certain students. Some teachers prolly get sick and fucking tired of teaching.

Someone recently pointed out and reminded me that even Jesus seemed to get sick of people’s shit.

lolz

I had forgotten all about that.

^Happy Up Here (Datassette Remix)^
A skateboard company. Looks like almost everyone is on board
^I.D. Under – Song X – Genericide 1989^

Your view of me is stylized; it’s not me. Only I know me, and even I don’t know me as well as I’d like to, so I guess in effect, nobody knows me. Same goes for you. Same goes for everyone I guess. Still, anything and everything you’ve got in your head about me, is stylized. Pretty much means that your ideas are…

flexible

Moldable, shapable and able to be molded and modulated via all kinds of ways, means and methods. Outside influence may not even be requisite for you to bounce from opinion to opinion. So what’s going on inside? What are you bouncing around in there, and why. Things like, oh…I dunno…you gave me that crown, and you can take it away. Something like that? The wolf that wins, is the one you feed.

So I'm told anyway
^Ministry – Everyday Is Halloween^

When I think “141”, two things immediately pop into my head, both are aviation related.

14 CFR Part 141 – PILOT SCHOOLS

Lockheed C-141 Starlifter

With respect to “sync numbers”, one could technically punch the number “141” into my internal memory banks, and this would provide access to related information and data via those two primary pathways via the 141 sequence. For example…

Andrews Air Force Base, McLean Virginia, Paris Texas, Tyler Texas, monarch butterflies, midair collision(s), blue and white, orange and black, 66322, touch and go, Grayson County Airport, Davy Crocket

Those are some ancillary types of things that instantly pop into my head when I hear the number “141” and/or the sequence “one four one”. The more that I think on 141, the more that pops into my head…

Precision, raining and cold, I-66, skeet, neon orange, Aunt Geo, Chesapeake Beach, Route 4, PX, minesweeping helicopters, allergic reaction to tattoos, 3,000 feet, south, hot, rough...it gets more and more clear and cloudy at the same time

These are my memories. Places I’ve been, things I’ve seen, things I’ve done, levels of involvement, levels of removal, hearsay, fact, truth, fiction, fantasy, lies…

its all mixed in there stewing in the same pot

With respect to memory and memories, and in regards to remote access of said information, is it possible to “feed” off of information via intentionally planted/implanted numbers and numbers sets? Something I’ve pondered for a while now, and I’m wondering as to quite a few concepts regarding frequency and/or utilization(s) of the stream(s).

^In Your Machine^

Old video below, but one of the comments on the video kinda caught my eye: the one about Oklahoma, and mainly because I distinctly remember 3 earthquakes here in 2014. And the fact that there’s mention of “the Oso Washington landslide, that killed 39”.

Seems like there was something in the news just this week where 39 people died in a truck/lorry. Did some reading tho, and it looks like the death toll in Oso eventually climbed to 43.

So yeah, no connection(s) whatsoever
^Wyoming Landslide: Slow Moving Disaster^

Let’s say that you gain access to “Memory X” using the 141 sequence. Later, you want to prove to a colleague that you’ve gained access to “Memory X”, you again use the 141 sequence, but it doesn’t work like it did the first time. Meaning, you input your 141, but the output is something different that the original. This could be either a different result entirely, or perhaps nothing at all, but a deviation from the original. So you increase the frequency of the inputted 141 sequence. Eventually, you get the access to “Memory X”, but it took 14 iterations of the 141 sequence to achieve the desired result. Or maybe 41 iterations. Or maybe 140 iterations.

Q: What was your base?

A: What is your base?

What was and is your base? To relate what I’m talking about, let’s say you stroke the small of your girl’s back for the first time, and she goes bonkers. One soft simple stroke, and she’s starry-eyed and weak-knee’d. Next time however, you stroke the small of her back, and nothing happens. So you repeat the procedure a few times, eventually she comes around to that original point you remember so vividly from your first experience.

Q: Does the second memory muddy the first?

A: What if there is no second memory?

In the context of which I’m speaking, I would imagine that your subject would need to be unaware of your number sequencing/number syncing so that they will rely upon their own internal experiences and data sets, which will give you access to these same experiences/data sets. Anything externalized is likely to provoke defense mechanisms and close off access to the individual’s internal hive.

So, the next question is, how to upload both false memories and modified memories? Provide some varied contrasts so that the original remains more or less intact, but your subject is…well, let’s say…susceptible. Muddy the memory, and the absolute becomes subjective. But only internally. The external can maintain clarity and rationale because the points within the set(s) are distinct and isolated which keeps both the point(s) and the set(s) from commingling in the “fuzzy logic” centers. I mean, this person’s life keeps on ticking. Keeps going. They’re piling more and more data in the banks each and every moment of each and every day. Loads of “similar not same” data piling in there that could possibly not provide the contrast to make better distinctions. Especially if the subject is currently in a loop or perceives themselves as being in a loop or some other dead-end type of situation. Final question…

Q: In an existence with little to no contrast, contrasts and/or contrasting elements, does all contrast become “stark”?

A: ???

Was just thinking how easy that might make the manipulation of emotions. You could corrupt a spirit.

^Datassette – Computers^

Just went back and was reading that Sam Walter Foss article on Wikipedia, and noticed it says he’s featured on New Hampshire historical marker #114. Actually, it says “number 114”.

To be exact, it says (number 114)”

I wonder if 114 and 141 are actually the same number in a different sequence representative of similar not same things + similar and same things + exact same things/identical things. May seem an odd reference, but I’m reminded of the 30 Rock episode where they’re all playing poker and Jack Donaghy discovers he can’t read Kenneth the Page. No tells to tell. No tales to tell?

Q: If someone is dead inside, can you extract anything?

A: ¿??¿

Supposedly, dead men tell no tales, so it makes me wonder about the dynamics of “the deadman” with respect to remote reading. Doesn’t matter the mode(s), method(s) nor reasoning(s) either. The deadman is just as alive as you or anyone else, just a tad…dead. Dead in there. Dead space? Dead zone?

/shrug 

Maybe some tactical maneuvering is in order. Also looks like he died in 1911.

^Dead – Pixies (RB3 Expert Guitar)^

Tic, tocs, and what is getting that inertia going in the first place? Get the right matter, with the right inertia, at the right speed, set to the right angle, add the right energy/energies with the same considerations, and you just might be able create an entanglement that’ll go on and on for a very long time. Might explain why certain configurations last for the amounts of time that they do. Especially in certain environments and/or at certain times.

Pre-flood, people supposedly lived for what is now considered to be some very long periods of time. But after the flood, not so much. Above, and below. Different time(s), and different configuration(s), different results. Gonna be some disruptors and disruptions. Might explain the membranous and somewhat episodic nature(s) of many of the things we see and experience. Many of the things that do and do not exist. Periodic tables, maps and star charts. Might also explain the whens and whys of why a lifeform might choose immortality over reproduction or vice versa. Sometimes the episode needs to run a bit longer than 22 minutes, sometimes not.

^Bobby Caldwell – What You Won’t Do for Love (Album Version)^
Star Charts and Sea Larks

I haven’t thought about that in a long time. I wonder what she’s up to.

^Will Sparks feat. Luciana – Sick Like That (Lyric Video)^

Dunno if revisiting old syncs is a good thing. Dunno if it’s a bad thing either. Seems kinda weird to never revisit a somewhere that is important to you. If there’s nothing keeping you away, and nothing telling you to stay away, why not go? Gotta be something pulling you in that direction.

Or pushing

Dunno…maybe I’m just circling the drain, and seeing the same shit on the way out that I saw on the way in.

Sup? Nice to see you again. Catch you on the flipside, I guess.

Maybe
^Holy Fuck – The Pulse^

Can you believe that a thought on having a dream come true inspired all that crap?

What a nightmare, eh?

I do know that the thought of potentially splitting an infinitely long and infinitely massive particle sent shivers down my spine. Considering the self-sustainability angle(s), one has to ponder the contextual nature of what “infinite” really entails, and where. The infinite paradigm itself is well established, it’s possible, plausible, and even probable. Now you just have to consider if you want to be the one to light the fuse or not.

^fluke – baby pain^
Have a great weekend
^AURORA – Runaway^

cYacFa

^Highasakite – Camp Echo – I Am My Own Disease HD AUDIO^

*******

We hope you enjoyed that, Dear Reader. Come back later in the week and we’ll have a Halloween tale or two for you…

*True, my Underdog Anthology X story will be related… /stubs butt… I just have to figure it out…*

…And have a Song ❤

Missive From ‘Merica: Well ‘Aunted

UA9 Cover.jpg

*Oh that looks lush, Clicky! …/lights up… Has Leggy loaded it yet? …/drags… Excellent! Ooh look, a ‘237’ sync… /plumes smoke… So, £2.37 equates to dollars, three? …/smokes… Marvelous value!* 

Dear Reader, the LoL is pleased to announce that Underdog Anthology IX: Well Haunted…

innit tho.gif

*Yes, Clicky…*

… Is now available for you to enjoy.  It’s the third Halloween volume Leg Iron Books has published…

*/flicks ash…*

… And will be sure to make you…

… Soil yourself, which is why we’re delighted today to host a new missive from the Okie Devil of Text US, who’s thoughtfully provided some handy toilet tips…

*Aye, Clicky, it’s good stuff…*

… Meet you at the bottom, Dear Reader… 😉

*******

giphy

Kinda weird stumbling across that image. Just the other day I was working on my own “two-fold and cross” method. Meaning, the method for folding the paper prior to contact with the soiled crack.

Six to eight sheets

join ends of entire length

join ends of entire length a second time

join two corners at 45° angle.

This gives enough coverage + enough padding without risk of breakthrough. Best part, is that with this configuration, you can wipe/fold, wipe/fold, wipe/dispose. Usually at least three good wipes out of 8 sheets, and it folds nice so there’s little risk of….trauma.

The resulting wad of soiled paper that goes in the toilet can be thick tho. If you just had chili or curry, and you have to use multiple wads, a flush might be in order. A clogged toilet when you’ve got runny poops almost seems to go against nature. And it could get messy quick if you don’t have a plunger handy.

That defeats the purpose of attempting to be efficient with the paper
^Fergal Freeman / Call of the Mystic (Enchanted Mix)^

Another pro-toilet tip?

Never mix fluids/discharge(s)

Like, never blow your nose with toilet paper whilst shitting. You may get confused as to which end has been wiped, and which has not. Would suck to wipe your ass then blow your nose with the same paper because you were multitasking. Not everything “efficient” is worth the risk.

FYI
^deadmau5 – Bad Selection^

Summer is over. Just thought you should know in the event you weren’t paying attention.

And yes, summer is also over for you folks in the Southern Hemisphere too, even tho it hasn’t even started yet. Sorry, but this year you’re just gonna have to tough out winter like us normal humans in the north.

Merry Christmas
^Summer Breeze Seals and Croft^

You spend most of your time in a rectangular room. You’re surrounded by rectangular walls with rectangular doors and rectangular windows, and you move upon and about a rectangular floor, with a rectangular roof above you. Your brain is likely to get somewhat accustomed to processing rectangular geometric information(s). When you venture away from that environment, your being is likely to be somewhat flooded with all kinds of new and interesting stuff.

Q: What if you are blind? Deaf?

A: Gotta get you away from those eyes of yours

Not permanently, just a temporary vacation. Your ears are likely to process a good deal of spacial information. Gonna be kind of a passive thing, but density, distance and relative position is also going to be processed by those big-assed ears of yours. Yes, your ears are fucking huge.

Sorry, someone had to tell you, so it may as well be me

Anyway, the topic of processing spacial information came up today, and the basis was the processing of contextual geometric information(s). Making distinctions as to what should and should not be in a certain somewhere, peculiarities, anomalies, etc.. Maybe even those things that can be in a certain somewhere, but these things themselves contain embedded information that is out of place. How we process geometric information, and what “geometric” even means with respect to processing shape data and/or shaped information.

Let's break out to elaborate
^Hotknife / Time to Party (Original Mix)^
You may recognize this shape



But what about this variant?

Now, before I go too much further, those two images have some very specific meaning(s). One appears to mean “Jesus Freak”, and the other appears to mean “Semi-Woke Jesus Freak”. I would imagine the second is an “answer”…

to this shape



Or maybe this shape

The first image gave us a base of geometric understanding…

and things mutated 



and evolved



from there

So with respect to processing information, it’s prolly not just/only a matter of learning to make a distinction between known and unknown. We need to make considerations for uncertainty, irregularity, one-off(s), intentionals, unintentuals, mutative/change(s), all kinds of strangeness(es), and of course…time(s).

What does any of that have to do with processing shape information and/or shaped information? I dunno. Guess it depends on what you are looking at/for, and why. Maybe also what you are not looking at/for and why. Yeah…prolly both of those.

Just a matter of time(s)
^Avoure – Aura^

Strange way for two parties to have a conversation, eh? Back and forth over who is right/wrong based on what is basically a preschool drawing of a fish.

At least they're talking
^3/10 Lollercoaster – Melleefresh vs. deadmau5 @ Traffik, Montreal, 25-11-2006^

Lets say that you are looking at a planet, and you are looking for signs of life.

Where to start? 

Mirrors? Mirrors suck. What you personally see in the mirror on a daily basis is in no way, shape or form anything like life. Certainly not representative of life as a whole. Just you and your whole life. You aren’t the center of the universe.

Where was I? 

Oh yeah, looking for life on another planet. Nothing good going on here on Earth/Terra, so we gotta look elsewhere. With that in mind, chances are good that you are looking for something foreign to this planet. But what would that look like? When was the last time you went walking in an open field, completely unfettered, unhinged, and totally off the hook?

Have you ever? 

Don’t get too reliant upon that television if you don’t have to. That thing misses a lot of nuance. Shaped information. Only so much you can see because whatever you are watching has passed through many filters before getting to you. Maybe you aren’t thinking correctly with respect to searching for something that doesn’t appear to be there. Maybe it’s there, and you just aren’t seeing it. Or hearing it. Or feeling it.

^Saltwater (Original) by Chicane^

Hey, I’m just trying to maybe get you to think about how you think, and especially as thinking relates to the processing of geometric shapes. Might keep you safe if you’re running naked through a field, and the shape of a bus suddenly appears in your FOV. If the bus-shape is blurry, stop running. If the bus-shape/image stays blurry, you might want to take evasive action/start running away from this shape.

Don’t ask me what in the fuck a bus in doing in the middle of a field. There’s a naked person running through this field, so this particular field appears to be a field that attracts some weird shit.

^Hotknife vs Mister Tee / Take A Stand (Orignal Mix)^

I must pee. The bathroom…

the door is pulled to, but not closed.

The light…off.                                                            The exhaust fan…on.

Something horrible has happened in there, and it happened only recently.

Q: Do you wish to proceed?

A: ???

Life is a story-book adventure, all day, every day, whether you realize it or not.

^Tiny Dancer – Deadmou5 Remix (Elton John)^
I'm getting old in my old age
^Melleefresh vs DJ Kez & Karol N / Pussy (Original Mix)^

Is a looping echo of charitable sentiments indicative of a failure of past benevolent processes? Perhaps even an indication that no real attempts have been made to permanently resolve the need for a certain philanthropic something? I’ll give an example of what I’m thinking here…

The United Way raised $21,700 in its first year of operation. The year? 1887.

The United Way raised $3.919 billion in 2018 (fiscal year ended June 2019).

That's an increase of 18,059,907% in 132 years

Now, adjusted for inflation, that 1887 money is supposedly $586,491.61 in 2019 dollars. But I have to wonder what 2019 dollars will be valued at in the year 2151, which is 132 years from now. Did some reading, and the US GDP was $12.6 billion in 1887, which means that one single US charity in 2018CE raised around 1/3 of the entire country’s 1887CE GDP. Let’s see what $3.919 billion was worth in 1887.

$105,919,844,315.79

Is it possible that $3.919 billion in today’s money is going to be worth almost $106 billion in 2151CE? I have no idea, and I guess it would depend on who you ask. Don’t ask anyone from a local church or anyone from Extinction Rebellion. Pretty sure they’re all convinced everyone and everything will be dead in 2151CE. Oh, and to add some additional perspective to those numbers, the current US President is said to have a net worth of around $3.1 billion as of March 2019CE.

^cube v3 – 5 days + nights with the LA horde^

From the United Way website…

“United Way fights for the health, education, and financial stability of every person in every community.”

United Way fights. United Way...fights

Not only are you and yours fighting, looks like you’re fighting anyone and everyone, everywhere. Prolly would be considered “PC” of me to suggest that you remove “fight”. Prolly more important that you lose the fighting mentality. Who and what are these forces you are fighting? What is driving them? Big corporations? Big interests? Big dollars?

It's easy to pick on the big dogs
^Chris Brown & Benny Benassi – Beautiful People^

We treat you like “this” because you are a woman.

We treat you like “this” because you are a man.

We treat you like “this” because you are…a human?

Is it the ordering?

Watched a doc earlier this week that kinda touched on a lot of the peculiarities that I wrestle with regarding nomenclatures and the implied behavioral protocols that they can sometimes imply.

But, you’re free to watch the doc then make up your own determinations as to how you treat someone and why. Or not.

Whatevz
^Intersex – redefining gender | DW Documentary^

I’m not sure what to think about this. Had some thoughts recently about who can utilize infrastructure(s) to make money and why…

...but yeah, not sure what to think about this

Cept maybe that the à la carte model is being forced via any and all means.

^Demonetization by You Tube of Technical Content on the Blancolirio Channel^

Does steam “open the pores”? Open the pores of the skin. I would assume “heat” does this/helps this, so a hot bath or shower opens the pores.

Is this really a good idea tho?

Open the pores, slather on soap(s), scrub it in, embed bits of these “cleansers” and their different pieces and parts, then cool off and trap that shit in the pores of the skin? Lemme guess…

”it doesn't work like that”

Was thinking about washing in cold water, and it occurred to me that maybe perhaps the skin contracting and getting all those goose-bumps because you’re freezing your ass off, might be a design consideration. As it pertains to functionality. We’re trying to get stuff off our bodies, not get stuff in our bodies.

Or something
^Deadmau5 – Jaded || HD^

Well this is quite the eye opener. I only recently was pondering/wrote about arrays of aircraft because of some things that I saw back in 2013 and again in 2015, but I had no idea “they” were actually doing it. Makes sense that they are tho.

After watching the video below, it’s no fucking wonder that the UFO community has been shitting their pants lately. Trying to stay on the radar. Trying to stay relevant.

Things are about to get muddier in that area

You could bury all kinds of shit behind all kinds of crazy curtains with technology like this. It’s just too bad that the video has that dumb music on top. Would be interesting to hear what all those drones sound like.

^100-Drone Stock Show | Firefly Drone Shows^

That vid tickled my brain-ish type thingie, so I went to YouTube and searched for “drone array” (without quotes) and found this thing below from 7 years ago.

^A Swarm of Nano Quadrotors^

There actually wasn’t much at all on YouTube under “drone array”. In fact, pretty much nothing. There was a light show, and that swarm one above, and synchronized drone show, and MICRO DRONES KILLER ARMS ROBOTS – AUTONOMOUS ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE, and drone flight over the Very Large Array, a mention of a drone tracking array, but only one mention of “array” with respect to drones.

Hrm...

Why is it that arrays of drones don’t seem to be referred to as “drone arrays”?

Also, on the vid about the drone tracking array, I noticed in the description that they

“had difficulty getting the DJI drones to work at 5.8 GHz”.

Someone only recently asked me about “5G” and what it is. But somewhat off on that topic, I’m wondering if maybe some military projects are lagging a bit, and maybe that’s why cell providers are having fits with getting “upgraded” to 5G? As far as I know, 4G is still a pipe dream, and it was “introduced” in 2009. Gotta get the important stuff out of that/those band(s), and at the same time make sure you remain well-entrenched in that band so you can keep track of who is doing what. Lots of data is pumping through the lower bands already, and I can imagine that cresting each band can be a challenge. Especially if you are simultaneously trying to monitor anyone who is cresting bands above your own capabilities.

Can't let the competition get too far ahead of you
^Kaskade & Felix Cartal – More (Shuffle Video)^

You made me.

You’re still making me.

You’re trying to anyway.

No idea what I’m talking about?
Making
Making
Making
Make
Make
1
7
How To Make Spells
10 Ways To Get Legislation Passed
7 Ways To Build Influence In The Workplace
Five Principles To Follow If You Want To Influence Others
24 Ways To Influence Even The Most Resistant People
8 Ways to Read Someone’s Body Language
50 Ways To Tell Someone You Like Them (Without Just Telling Them)
Impose One’s Will

If it’s still not clear, maybe think on the concept of “making” a bit.

Make it personal

What you make, when, where, how…all that good stuff.

^Boy Pussy / Unisex (Jackin’ Mix 2019 Remaster)^

I started this back on September 26th. It’s now October 12th. I rearranged some of the sections, which means you did not read them in the chronological order in which they were written. Time to stop this madness.

Heh
^deadmau5 / Vanishing Point [full version]^

cYacFa

^S_PAT / Tomorrow (Original Mix)^

*******

*Yep, Parsons knows, Clicky…/stubs butt…*

Thanks for stopping by, Dear Reader, we hope you have enjoyed the visit, and don’t forget to check out Underdog Anthology 9: Well Haunted. Before you know it, the Xmasterpeace will be upon us. Have a Song ❤

Nein, Nein, Nein

Before I start this here Brexit shambles, Dear Reader, I’d just like to point out that there is still time to submit a short story for the Halloween Underdog Anthology, if you are of a creative writing bent. To date, 7 authors have supplied tales for the book, but I’m sure Leggy would like to get the author count up to 9 if possible, to sync with the number of the volume in the series…

*Ooh that’s apt, Clicky… /lights up… My first story’s about misadventures in trepanation… /drags… I’m still working on the second…*

*Yep… /streams smoke… It’s a ‘Harry’ story, Clicky, and the first half of a two parter… /smokes… The second story will be in the Christmas Anthology. Touch wood…*

*Hear Hear, Clicky…*

Dear Reader, it seems we have a Zombie Parliament in session, here, in the UK. It appears that Remainer MPs – a.k.a. ‘The Far Wrong’ – in their crazed desperation to prevent us from leaving the Eewww!, are prepared to go to any lengths…

SOTD Channel 4

*/flicks ash… Except fight a General Election and bloody well secure a mandate to cancel Brexit… /final drag… Too risky…

zombie headshots.gif

*’No, we’re not allowed to shoot them, Clicky…*

Neil deGrasse Tyson on how to kill zombies.gif

*Yeah, they already know they’re dead meat… /stubs butt… *

The story continues, Dear Reader. Have a Song…