Fortnightly Writing Challenge: HUMANARIUM (Results)

Started by Baron, Mon 08/09/2014 03:50:19

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Baron

Welcome fellow writers,
     This fortnight's writing challenge is to tell a short story about humans on display in a zoo-like setting.  Maybe they've been kidnapped by aliens, maybe they've been poached from distant times, maybe it's just a day job.  But they must be in some sort of zoo-like habitat, and the plot must deal with what it's like to exist in a confined space that's made to seem familiar. 



Possible plot ideas might include: establishing a pecking order, trying to rebuild a critically endangered society (like an adventure game development company ;)), escape, running amok just like when humans are free (destroying the environment, or starting a war with another group.... (roll)), dealing with a weird alien behavioural biologist who tries to infiltrate the group, trying to communicate with the slightly different humans in the display across the way, the problems of running a prison camp bartering racket, grossly incompatible beings in the same enclosure (man eating beast, or incompatible personalities), a Lord of the Flies cautionary tale, survivor horror from an epidemic like the "ick" that killed all the fish in my aquarium, mistaken identity (the protagonist shares some mannerisms with a given animal), grossly inadequate climate (AC is too strong, habitat is mostly water/garbage/parked cars), problems with navigating some maze or puzzle to obtain food (humans as lab rats work for me too), or just the goofy things that quasi-intelligent beings come up with to pass the time.  Be creative! Maybe you could write a review of the new display for an alien newspaper, or publish a pamphlet advertisement, or record a folk ballad whose lyrics depict what it's like to live life on display....  Or just write a log entry, or a message on the display wall for the next human to be caught, or a message in a bottle in the display moat.  Surprise me!  Have fun!   

Contest Deadline is Monday September 22 at 10pm EST (7pm Pacific)


monkey424

Reminds me of this song:

PETS by PORNO FOR PYROS

I really enjoyed the last writing comp so might have a stab at this one too.
    

Durinde

My take on it:

THE SOMETHING

The something felt smooth and cold as it always did.

Mygar had discovered it 3 winters ago when he journeyed into the forest his on annual trapping trip. Since his 16th year, he had gone into the woods like his father before him to trap beaver and martin. That winter, while following a game trail in the fresh fallen snow, he smacked his forehead on "something."

There was no visible sign the something was there. To Mygar, the trail continued into the forest beyond. Mygar reach out his hand, and it was the first time he had felt the cold smoothness. He ran his hands up and down, left and right, and even walked along it in both directions, but there seemed to be no end of the something. 

Grabbing a fallen branch, Mygar poked the something. The branch brought up as Mygar expected it would. Mygar then threw the branch at the something, it sailed through into the woods beyond.

The light was fading quickly when Mygar decided to leave the something behind. A long winters night was ahead and he didn't have long to get his cabin before it became unsafe to travel by snowshoe. As he turned around one final time to look at where the something was, snow had started to fall. Snow didn't seem to have any trouble passing through the something.

During the rest of the trip, Mygar would experiment with the something. An arrow would pass through it, so Mygar suspected that quick things like a rabbit might be able to cross the barrier. Giving himself some distance, he built himself up into a quick run and slammed into the something, knocking him unconscious. He had to nurse a bruise for several days afterwards.

When he returned home, he said nothing to his fellow villagers. Travelling outside of the valley was frowned upon and considered taboo by the elders. Rumours of dark and frightful things in the woods kept most of the villagers in the valley where they had made their home. From time to time, a stranger would wander into the village, covered with strange wounds all over their bodies. They would never know who they were or how they had travelled through the forest. The elders would always assign the strangers a name and find a family to take care of the them until they could provide from themselves. It had always been that way. These strangers were a victim of the a terrible beast. Mygar's grandfather came to the village this way.

Mygar's father had always doubted the existence of the beast. He had travelled many miles and had never seen tracks nor sign of any such thing. Fur kept people warm in the cold winters and it was a luxury few would wilfully do without. Despite the taboo, the elders granted permission to Mygar's father to go in search of fur, under the condition that he knew nobody would search for him the beast got him.

The summer went quickly and once again it was time for Mygar to go trapping. Mygar wanted to be prepared for his next encounter with the something. With his normal supplies, he had requested the elders provide him with some parchment, a quill, and ink. The elders asked him why he would need such a thing. Mygar told them he was making a map to remind him where he had set his traps.

After the traps were checked and set for the day, he would make his way to the something and start walking leaving one hand outstretched as he made his way along the something through the forest, making a map of the something and the surrounding area as he went. He would find the end of the something, and when he did, he would know exactly where it would be.

Game seemed less abundant that winter and the fact that he was spending a lot of his time mapping did not help. By the time he returned to the village, he only had half of his usual amount of furs. The village elders were not pleased and had threatened not to give him any provisions for his hunting trip the following winter.

Mygar had fret over the summer that he would not be able to continue his investigation. Time passed, and when the days began to grow short, the elders recalled how cold a winter could be and the desire to be wrapped up in a warm fur drove them to finally granting him the provisions he would need for his trip - minus the map-making supplies.

It was the third winter and Mygar now stood in front of the something. Once again, he placed his hands on its cool, smooth surface. Mygar hadn't even gone to his cabin to drop of his supplies. His plan was to follow the something to the very end. He would camp each night in the woods. The something had become and obsession and he would find the end or not return to the village at all.

Mygar strapped on his best pair of snowshoes and began walking. As always hands outreached. The pack was heavy and would slow him down, but Mygar didn't care. He would take his time and be patient, just like he would be stalking prey.

Three nights went by. On the morning of the fourth day, Mygar awoke to a raging snowstorm. The folly of his obsession was starting to dawn on him. On stormy day, he would normally huddle down in his cabin and wait for the storm to pass while curled up next to a warm fire. Even in the lean-to, covered in the warmest furs he was exposed to the elements. He had to move to survive.

Mygar grabbed what provisions he could and started off. His hands now buried beneath his armpits to keep warm. He would reach out from time to time to ensure the something was still next to him.

It seemed like hours had passed, but there was still no end to the storm or any end to the barrier. Mygar felt that if he could figure out a way to cross it, he would be safe. He grew weary and cold but pressed on. 

Finally, Mygar knew he was done for. He placed his back against the something and slid down to the ground in a heap. He was so cold, but also so very sleepy. He would close his eyes and let the death sleep take him. 

There were dreams. Dreams of shadowy figures covering him in a blanket and moving him. He saw bright lights, hear unfamiliar noises.

Blackness overcame him.

---------------------------------
"How's he doing?"

"We treated him for frostbite and exposure. Nothing Major. He will be OK."

"So what do we do with him? We normally don't interfere with the prisoners. They are criminals after all."

"His grandfather was the criminal. This is just a young man caught in a system."

"So what's the plan?"

"Mygar has become famous in the past couple of years. Ever since he started experimenting with the wall of the enclosure, ratings has gone up. People loved watching the goofball try and figure out a way through it. Did you see the footage of him running into the wall? People ate that up. The higher ups are considering touring with him. That's why we were ordered to save him. We clean him up and hand him off."

"What about our other guest?"

"Two counts of rape, and one count of attempted murder. The villagers might have lost Mygar, but at least they will have someone to replace him."

"I'll schedule the mind-wipe."

(EDITED FOR A COUPLE OF SPELLING MISTAKES)

Baron

A few nibbles and an entry already!  Excellent!  And might I say welcome back to the competition, Durinde: we've missed you!

kconan

Preface:

  In the year 2023 a group of highly intelligent and fit homo sapiens sapiens colonized Mars.  Initially they were ensconced in a bio-dome, though the group slowly branched out and eventually terraformed the planet making it hospitable for Earth based life forms.  Over hundreds of thousands of years, contact with Earth was sporadic and the people on Mars evolved into Homo sapiens posterus.  Despite the Mars subspecies having a slightly larger head, the physical differences were subtle.  The major difference was intelligence and emotional control, as the average Homo sapien posterus possessed the intellect of ten Albert Einsteins and had complete control over his/her emotions.  They did not war with each other, nor did they have a class system or pre-judge based on skin color (though nearly all had the same lightly tanned skin).  The first groups on Mars had to work together to survive in a hostile environment, and this sense of teamwork and fraternity had been passed on down the generations.  It also helped genetics-wise that these forefathers had been among the “best of the best” from Earths population.  Homo sapiens posterus eventually returned to Earth after 900,000 years to find Homo sapiens sapiens had remained complacent as a species, and had even regressed in terms of intelligence.  The perpetual wars, overpopulation, and pollution had taken its toll both on Mother Earth and the human beings who inhabited her while the people on Mars had flourished in terms of science and culture.  Shortly after Homo sapiens posterus had made contact with their cousins on Earth, they were immediately set upon as invaders despite benevolent intentions.   It took time for posterus to adjust to fighting, as Mars only knew peace, but due to their intellectual and technological superiority they quickly mastered the art of war.


Time: Year 920,100,005 A.D. (Sapiens Earth years)
Place: New Olympus (formerly sapiens city of Denver) Sapiens Terrarium

Gregor stared through the thick, but crystal clear, force field.  He was working on a project for school that involved the most recently obsolete species of humans.  Gregor observed a male adult sapiens cradling a baby.  The tour-bot stated, “While this one seems to be a pacifist, he can quickly become aggressive with the others if resources are limited and/or other sapiens with noticeable differences â€" however slight - are introduced into his living space.”  Gregor commanded, “End tour” and the robot tour guide remained silent.  The Terrarium was a zoo, but doubled as a place for students and scientists to conduct experiments and this is why he had come.  He walked over to the information screen, and read the top portion as he had many times before:

Homo sapiens sapiens (Skin color type #583, 1.8m height, average build, no mutations)
Diet: Omnivorous
Mating Habits: Monogamous and occasional polyamorous relationships usually resulting in 2-3 offspring per female
Natural Enemies: Anything that competes for their resources

Gregor looked away, and thought it was sad that sapiens had to be separated based on skin color, but he knew that these crude “aware apes” would find some reason to segregate others and take their resources.  He recalled one example where food was limited for a short period in one of the exhibits that contained nearly identical sapiens, and this resulted in a group of thirty subjects killing ten others for food.  After the Terrarium scientists investigated, it appeared that the unlucky cannibalized ten happened to have slightly smaller or misshapen ears.  Gregor knew that his kind in the same scenario would ration food; even if this resulted in deaths from malnutrition.

The young student scribbled a few notes on his holo-pad as the adult sapien gently rocked his offspring off to sleep.  Gregor pondered the plight of the ancient homo neanderthalensis species, and considered it similar to what happened to the sapiens.  He wondered if, assuming they hadn't attacked the posterus, they could both have co-existed in relative peace.  Gregor had his doubts because his kind looked at sapiens much like sapiens viewed monkeys (they were intelligent animals) and the sapiens were such warmongers.  His attention returned to the exhibit, and he pressed a button on the info screen which allowed 2-way audio and video.

The adult sapien set his child down on a blanket and walked over to Gregor, and glared at him through the force field.  The average sapiens education levels had regressed since the Great Posterus-Sapiens Wars, but they could communicate in the language of the day and were obviously self-aware.  The sapien said, “Feeling like a superior, higher being hotshot?”  Gregor knew this was some crude mind game but shook his head in response regardless.  The sapien followed with, “Got something for you” and dug both hands deep into the front pockets of his trousers, jiggled for ten seconds, and returned with two middle fingers pressed up against the force field.  Gregor smiled recalling the gesture and its meaning, and walked over to a bench to sit down.  The sapien said, “So what is the sadistic plan for today?  Let me guess…Some variation of prodding me and perhaps others into fighting.  How many different ways can you people prove that most of us are assholes to each other?  Look, either interbreed with my people or banish us to live on a small island.  Or even wipe us all out.  What you are doing is sick.  Not my fault that my ancestors didn't take a trip to Mars!  Nor is it on me that my great, great grandfather attacked your great, great grandfather!”  The sapien knew that Gregor considered him a lab rat who could talk or perhaps a smart ape at best, but he continued to plead his case in-between taunts.

Gregor pressed mute, and opened ApeTinkerâ,,¢ on his holopad just as a little posterus kid walked by with his parents.  He was holding a stuffed animal that was actually a sapien male dressed in a suit.  It was a prize from the shooting gallery “hunting” section of the zoo, of which even Gregor didn't approve.  They fire tranquil-lazers, but the bottom line for him was that nothing was learned from the experience as it was really just a revenue generator for the Olympus Terrarium.

Gregor watched as the male sapien frowned and then sat down on a bench in front of his house.  This setting of this particular exhibit was designed like an Amish farm (one of the few exhibits from between Earth years 100 A.D. to 100,000 A.D.), and so the lab subjects would become actors for tour groups and reenact Amish life and customs. In reality, none of the sapiens in the exhibit actually farmed or did any woodworking as food and supplies were given to them.  Gregor recalled that several sapiens had to be put down after a barn raising incident, though luckily none of the injured were breeding stock.

Ultimately Gregor's latest school project was to find what lengths the sapiens would go to earn their freedom.  He, along with his schoolmates, had performed a variety of experiments with the sapiens, but the subjects seem to have unionized and no longer participated.  They even had started catching on to the harder-to-detect subtle experiments.  But most disturbing is that the “old classics” like food shortages and fighting for exhibit real estate are no longer working.  This includes the recent drought simulation where sapien subjects died in droves rather than rationing, trying to grow food, or even turning on each other as they had in the past.  Gregor had come to the conclusion that while his “obsolete cousins” were overly aggressive and greedy, they did have a unique ability to come together to fight a common foe.  His plan today was to overcome this by dangling the ultimate carrot: Freedom.  If this failed, Gregor guessed that perhaps the Terrarium would be forced to raise a new breed of specimens from scratch that didn't inherit any culture or language from previous sapiens groups and never reveal themselves to the subjects.

Gregor unmuted the adult male sapien and was greeted with, “…your Mom.  And when I'm finished making a woman out of her, then I'm going to…” and he cut off the insulting diatribe in typical sterile posterus manner with, “Ok I understand your frustration.  If you want to leave this place, then pay attention.” and began furiously working on his holopad.

The adult sapien, who was actually named number seven eighty but called himself “Arlick”, heard noises that sounded like people of his kind entering his exhibit, and he walked over to the butter churn area to get a closer look.  A variety of different sizes and colors of sapiens entered the Amish country exhibit.  Arlick initially became irritated at the invasion of people who didn't look like him, but then he decided that he wasn't going to play into his captor's hands.  Knowing that something pretty bad was coming, he walked over to his child and hid him in a small covered barrel as other sapiens filed into the exhibit.  They investigated their new surroundings, and all appeared to be unfamiliar with Amish culture.  Some were casually chatting with each other, some wandered around aimlessly, while others aggressively claimed areas of the exhibit as their own.  Arlick position himself near a hidden cache that contained food, a sharp scythe, and a finely honed sickle while keeping his eyes on the barrel that housed his baby.  He wondered where the child's Mom (and more importantly, his former lover) was, as she had been herded off with others to another habitat.  Arlick believed that his experiment had been to see how a single dad copes with a child and how the kid handles separation anxiety, though you never knew with the posterus scientists who have run every kind of test and experiment that one could imagine several times over.

After the Amish exhibit had been filled with about forty subjects, Gregor announced, “Those clever and strong among you who want freedom, listen closely.  The winners of this challenge will undergo surgery to look more like us and be allowed to roam the planet freely as one of us, assuming of course that they are capable of doing so in a peaceful manner.”  Most of the sapiens perked up, with a few seemingly disgusted by the idea.  Despite the posterus scientists and students conducting cruel experiments without showing much emotion or sympathy, they did always keep their word.  The sapiens had not seen firsthand or heard secondhand of them breaking their honor code.  Alrick knew that if this test included a component of violence, then the entire exhibit would devolve into a bloodbath.  He glanced at his fellow sapiens subjects and didn't recognize them or the outfits they had been issued.  A group of strong looking young sapiens had grouped together over by an area of hay bales.  Alrick's glancing about was interrupted by vents opening up in the ground.

Gregor said, “Those vents in the ground are now piping in carbon dioxide.  After the vents cease emitting and are closed, there will be enough oxygen to accommodate roughly a quarter of your current number.  For those of you we haven't put through the education programs: This means you won't be able to breathe unless the population of sapiens and farm animals is greatly reduced or the vents are somehow blocked.  The latter is certainly possible; the tools are there assuming you can all work together.”  A small posterus family had been watching the proceedings, and their youngest child walked up to the force field and began tapping on it as Gregor continued, “One hint…Don't try to ventilate the containment area, as the metal is too strong and even if you broke through there is a force field.  Anyone that survives earns not only the right to continue existing, but also their freedom.  Good luck.”

Alrick heard the hissing sounds coming from the vent nearest him.  He began yelling for everyone to stop and listen because he knew where to get materials that could harden into a concrete-like substance and block the vents.  His pleas were ignored or unnoticed as he witnessed a women near him get run through with a pitchfork by a younger male sapien that was part of the larger mob group.  He yelled, “Hold on!  We can seal off the vents!” and a smalle group gathered around him while watching their back.  Other sapiens were either running, attacking, or hiding.  A man nearest Alirck asked, “How?” and Alrick replied, “In the tin shack there are materials that we need to stir up in a mixing box, which is in the barn.  There is more than enough for all the vents.”  Gregor tiled his head while watching Alrick attempt to bring some order to chaos, and thought that he was the only one who could bring about a non-violent solution.  The bratty child child's force field tapping was finally stopped by his father, who herded him off to see the Earth year 500,000 A.D inner city exhibit, which was dystopian and bleak even by ancient human standards.

The mob of young sapien teenagers were terrorizing the others…One older man was chased into a business end of an overly-sharpened upright plow that nearly split him in half.  A woman was trying to hop on an old, cranky draft horse to escape when it bucked and kicked her in the side of the head.  An unlucky child ran around the back of the house into the leader of the mob who grabbed the kid in a headlock, snapped his neck, and placed his body over a vent.  Several teens were attacking a woman who was swinging a chain around her to create room.  One teen was clobbering a man on the ground with a piece of half-rotten wood.

Gregor had noted in previous tests and experiments that the sapiens teenagers tended to be the most rash acting and violent.  He also found it intriguing that this big segregation was based on age rather than race.  Gregor returned his attention to Alrick, who had just retrieved a sickle and scythe from his cache before quickly tearing off across the habitat.

Alrick's crew raced across the Amish farm.  They dodged a few teenagers who tried to intercept, and made it to the shack.  One of Alrick's men, who was armed with a handheld garden hoe, was a tall, stocky teenager who had earlier opted against joining the mob.  The kid darted inside the shack, and back out again with two huge bags draped across his big shoulders.  Alrick nodded his approval and they headed for the barn.  Gregor continued to wildly air-scribble notes into the holopad.

The leader of the mob noticed Alrick and his team heading for the barn, and so he finished pulverizing his current victim with an upturned wheelbarrow and headed out to cut them off.  Team Alrick was too fast, as they bolted in through a side-door into the barn.  The mob leader, named “Axe”, grabbed three of his boys and shoved them into the barn through the front door.  Gregor watched this and nodded, as he has seen countless ruthless sapien leaders depute the more dangerous business to underlings.  Screams were heard from within the barn and one of his minions staggered out of the front door with a small garden hoe sticking out of his face and collapsed dead in a heap.  Axe removed the hoe for himself, and waited by the front.  More sounds of struggle came from within the barn, and then all was quiet.  A voice could be heard from inside that announced, “We have something that can block the vents!  Do not attack us!”  Axe coughed, and wondered if it was a fluke cough or perhaps if the air was thinning out.  He assumed that the plea coming from inside the barn was a trick, and didn't believe Alrick's group.

Alrick and his team exited through the side-door, though stealth was impossible because two of the largest members of his team were pulling a horse cart that carried two giant stone pots.  He proceeded to a vent, looked around for potential assailants, and then using a large shovel removed contents from one pot into a small, but wide container.  Alrick then removed some from the other pot and also put it into the container, and stirred.  After several minutes, he dumped a large grey gelatinous blob over the vent and flattened it with the shovel.  In minutes the vent was sealed and they started to move on when the team was surrounded by the teenage mob with Axe out in front.  The mob had finished with everyone else, and no one was in the mood to calculate the percentages of the remaining oxygen consumers.  Gregor perked up, and set down his holopad.  A small group of Terrarium visitors on a guided tour had stopped to watch as well, and they crowded around the force field.

The dust had settled, the blood stains were drying, and Alrick was dead with a scythe in one hand and a sickle in the other in literal death grips.  Axe's corpse was barely identifiable due to all the missing appendages.  Gregor watched one face-down body twitch on the ground, and according to the vital signs and thermal readings on his holopad, the subject had roughly another minute before expiring.  Another sapien began crawling over to the force field, but then slumped over from blood loss.  Yet another emitted garbled moans, until her crushed esophagus caused the moans to abruptly cease along with her life.  The tour group eagerly listened to their tour-bot explain, "Homo sapiens sapiens would cross many moral or ethical boundaries for greed, and even more for survival as you can see here."

Gregor entered the exhibit encased in a biohazard force field suit, and gingerly removed the baby that had been hidden in the barrel.  He handed it to an attendant and said, “Take him to surgery.  He'll be one of us.  Change his assigned number to the name Alrick Junior.”  Gregor took one last look at the carnage, and returned to his notes while slowly shaking his head. 

Baron

More entries!  MOOOOOOOORE! :-D

Also, you've got about one more week left.

Baron

Three more days, peeps.  Punch those keyboards of yours into overdrive! ;-D


kconan

  How about Earth itself is a terrarium for aliens!  Or Planet of the Apes builds a homo sapien zoo!  Or we devolve and dolphins evolve into sentient masters that enslave us and build our habitats (for their viewing pleasure) underwater!

 

monkey424

My entry is complete! Just in the nick of time! Phew! This writing business is hard! I felt this piece was harder to write than the last one, but maybe it's just because the moon's in Aquarius or something and it's not a particularly creative time. Anyway, it's done! Here it is..

PLANET OF THE CREPES

(Ha! Just thought of this title now, because the story involves pancakes! But a quick Google search shows it has been thought of before, as I suspected. It's a business name for a mobile creperi in Arizona!)

Alternative title:

TO ERR IS HUMANARIUM

-------------------------------------------

Zarly looked drearily out the porthole of her room, watching the blue-green dust storm whoosh by. Her six tentacles beat a frustrated rhythm on the floor while her antennae twitched idly. Her small blue-green face glumly turned to her homework assignment. She had barely started her creative writing piece on Plutonian poetry.

As Zarly let out a gurgling sigh, her father squelched into the room.

“What's the matter honey? Why so glum?” asked Dad.

“Oh Dad. It's just this creative writing piece. I can't think of anything to write.”

Dad let out a hearty Plutonian chuckle.

“Oh ho ho. Do not worry, young Zarly. You just need to find some inspiration.”

Zarly looked out the porthole again, uninspired.

“Where?” she said forlornly.

Dad pondered this for a moment.

“I suggest you visit the new Humanarium in Sector 424B. I've heard that humans are a pretty creative bunch. You should check them out for some inspiration.”

Zarly vaguely remembered reading about the humans; a relatively bright species that peaked around the 21st century and then quickly descended into chaotic stupidity and near extinction.

“Oh, alright,” she said reluctantly. “I guess that's an idea.”

“Excellent. Off you go then,” said Dad, dismissing Zarly with a wave of his tentacle. “And have fun.”

-------------------------------------------

The automatic doors whizzed open to the bright plastic world of Sector 424B. Zarly squelched past the assorted exhibits, in awe of the plethora of weird and wonderful creatures. A few burly scruffosaurus slowly plodded circles in their artificial swamp exhibit, and a herd of web-footed wildebeests danced a merry jig in another. Perhaps this wasn't such a bad idea after all, she thought.

Zarly arrived at the human exhibit. She pressed her button nose against the transparent divider to see into the display. It was basically an open plan living-room with an old couch and TV positioned centrally and a small kitchen annex in the corner. A doorway at the rear presumably led to the toilet facilities. The room was in disarray with old clothes and food scraps strewn about as well as other miscellaneous objects including a traffic cone and shopping trolley. There were apparently no humans present.

“Oh, zookeeper!” Zarly cried.

A nearby zoo employee scooted over.

“Yes?”

“Where are all the humans?”

The zookeeper craned his extendable eye to scan the interior of the exhibit, and then glanced at his watch.

“It's approaching noon. They should be up soon.”

As if on cue, a face as hairy as a scruffosaurus suddenly appeared on the other side of the dividing screen and made Zarly jump with surprise. The hairy face smacked its lips and blinked, apparently trying to regain focus. It bellowed an enchanting grunt and muttered something in Human:

“Ohhhhhh… What a night! Never again…”

The face sank below the bottom of the screen and moments later its associated body could be seen crawling sluggishly towards the couch.

Another human emerged from behind the kitchen bench in a similar display of zombie-like awakening. This human was also hairy but the hair was longer, blond, and draped from its head in a tattered mess.

“I'm making pancakes,” she announced. “Who want's pancakes?”

A hurling noise was audible from the room at the rear and moments later a third, lanky figure appeared at the doorway. He was wearing a toga.

“Pancakes sounds good.”

The hairy human had finally crawled to his destination and retrieved a game controller from the floor before awkwardly pulling himself up onto the couch. He let out a rumbling burp, indicating his approval for pancakes.

The lanky toga wearing human staggered over to the couch to join the hairy one, tripping over the traffic cone in the process. He located a second game controller and plonked himself down onto the couch. Their video game was un-paused and the two stared hypnotically at the TV screen while mashing keys on their controllers.

The female human brought over pancakes and dumped them into the males' laps.

“Sorry, boys. There are no clean plates. Bon appetit!”

-------------------------------------------

Zarly gawked at the squalid scene in disbelief.

“Is this all they do?” she asked.

“Yep. That's it,” replied the zookeeper. “This is fairly typical morning, err, midday behaviour.”

“I thought humans were supposed to be creative and inspirational,” Zarly complained.

The zookeeper scratched his head and adjusted his antennae.

“Oh, you want inspiration? In that case, don't bother with this lot; they've passed their used-by date. If you want inspiration then there's some fluorescent fungus down that way,” he said, pointing in the direction.

Zarly's little blue-green face lit up. “Of course! I'll go check them out now. Thank-you sir.”

“Don't mention it,” he replied.

As Zarly squelched off to the next exhibit, the zookeeper turned again to look at the humans. He had a bit of a soft-spot for them.

“Beautiful creatures,” he mused. “Thick and inspiring as scruffosaurus shit, but beautiful.”
    

Sinitrena

THE Spectacle of the Century!!!

Seen all the animals in the world?

Tired of actors and mock drama?

Interested in different civilizations and evolution?

Then come to the Mulgrew Zoological Gardens?

We have THE show for you!

From the 19th October to the 30th March we have the biggest show of native villages there ever was! Come and see the Massai of East Africa, the Inuit of the North, the Pygmies, known for their small size, the Malay of Indonesia, as well as Aborigines and different Asian groups! We show them in a setting as close to their natural habitat as possible! You can watch them perform their daily routines, hear them talk in their strange tongues, see them wear traditional clothes (or nothing at all; who can be sure with such wild people?) and even speak to them if you want.* We exhibit more than 20 villages and over 300 people including men, women and children.

What:            Native Peoples Exhibit
Where:            Mulgrew Zoological Gardens
                  76 Main Road
                  Central City
When:            19. Oct â€" 30. Jan
                   Open Daily
                   8.00am â€" 8.00pm
Admission Fee:              18d.

(*We can not guarantee this as it highly depends on your own capabilities with foreign languages.)

*

1st October 18XX

Committee for Equality and against Racism
15 High Street
Central City

Mr. Steven Mulgrew
Mulgrew Zoological Gardens
76 Main Road
Central City

Dear Sir,

it is with great regret and not a small amount of disgust that we learned of your latest exhibit. How dare you treat human beings like animals, like objects even? How dare you subject free people to a life in captivity, behind walls and in cages?

We, the Committee for Equality and against Racism, won't stand by and watch you step on the rights of hundreds of people! Your display is shameful and a disgrace to all god-fearing people. Your behavior is racist, akin to slavery, and damnable and we won't allow you to proceed with this show!

Therefore, we ask you kindly with this letter to cancel your exhibit of autumn and winter of this and next year. If you do not stop this criminal disregard for the rights of all human people voluntarily, we won't hesitate to contact authorities and, should that not be enough, to protest against you in public as much as necessary. Be sure that we won't stop  until the exhibit is canceled.

Sincerely,
Michelle Webster
Vice President
Committee for Equality and against Racism

*

5th October 18XX

Steven Mulgrew
Mulgrew Zoological Gardens
76 Main Road
Central City
Ms. Michelle Webster
Committee for Equality and against Racism
15 High Street
Central City

Dear Ms. Webster,

thank you for your letter of 1st October and your interest in our Natives People Exhibit. We are very sad and disappointed to learn that you don't agree with our program of this autumn and winter. We assure you that we will look at your concerns with the utmost care.

Unfortunately, it is neither practical nor reasonable and therefore impossible to cancel our exhibit this late in out preparations.

I am yours
Dr. Mulgrew
Director
Mulgrew Zoological Gardens

*

Scandal at Mulgrew Zoological Gardens?

Nine days ago the financially troubled Mulgrew Zoological Gardens announced an unusual exhibit. The show called “Native Peoples Exhibit” and styled “THE Spectacle of the Century”, planned for this autumn and meant to celebrate cultural diversity and introduce the audience to a number of indigenous peoples immediately lead to controversy. While professors of the local university praised the concept as brave and especially as faithful in showing different ways of life, other people protested against the idea. Michelle Webster, Vice President of the Committee for Equality and against Racism, a private organization, called the show in a letter to Dr. Mulgrew of Mulgrew Zoological Gardens a disgrace and damnable, among other things. In this letter she asked the zoo to cancel the exhibit voluntarily or threatened thy would take other steps to stop it. The zoo denied the request.

This is probably why the Committee organized a public protest for today. More than five hundred march from the St. Nicholas church along High Road to the Zoological Gardens, shouting slogans and carrying banners. Traffic was blogged for a full two hours during the march.

The protesters claimed that the exhibit violated basic human rights and that the people who, as Mr. Mulgrew calls it, work there are nothing but prisoners and slaves. Ms. Webster commented that the living conditions in the zoo were obviously abysmal and that no human being should be subjected to such a disgrace. “They probably would claim otherwise.”, Ms. Webster told our correspondent, “They might even say that they are treated well. But the truth is that they don't really know what they are talking about. You can't really expect them to know. They are like children who need our protection. I know that some people see them as wild animals and to put them in cages only enforces this opinion. In truth, they are poor, innocent souls that don't know any better yet.” Ms. Webster went on to swear that the Committee and the public won't stop their protests until the exhibit is canceled. Mr. Mulgrew was not available to comment.
Central City, 9th October 18XX

*

Sheriff's Notice

10th October 18XX

We hereby announce that the “Native People Exhibit” of Mulgrew Zoological Gardens is prohibited from proceeding after multiple public protests. We declare that the aforementioned exhibit is a hazard to the public order. This decision was made in the name of peace in our community.

Sheriff's department
Central City

*

“No-one asked us.”

“Nobody cared about us. They said they did, but shouldn't they have talked to us at least?”

“What did they even know? It was a good job. It would've been.”

“But they talked about us and decided and then went away.”

“The pay was good.”

“It was true to our traditions. We lived like we wanted to, like we always do.”

“I read this article in the papers. There was a lot of talk about us. What poor souls we are; that we are mistreated, that we need protection. Protection against racism and dreadful living conditions. I don't know what this is about. The living conditions were just fine. More than that even. They were excellent, actually.”

“I, for that matter, really liked this job.”

“They said it was degrading and demeaning to allow others to watch our lives and that it was shameful to put us in cages. There were no cages. There were barriers. We asked for them to keep the spectators out. They were there to protect us.”

“I don't know what they were talking about when they said we were treated like slaves and animals. We choose to do this. Nobody threatened us, nobody coaxed us. Would you say no to a job that demands nothing of you but to live like you always do and have the opportunity to see a far away country at the same time?”

“We have to leave now. I wanted to spent a few months here!”

“We were no prisoners. Honestly, were did they get this idea from? It was supposed to run 8.00am to 8.00pm and then we were free to go do whatever we wanted. Even during the day we weren't supposed to always be there. It was supposed to be four days work and then three days off. There were enough people to make it look like the villages were always full.”

“It was a great job. But now I have to go back and because the exhibit never began, there's no money for us. What a mess!”

“You think the exhibit was a disgrace? The way we were treated by the Committee and the authorities is a disgrace!”

“But no-one asked us for our opinion. They talked about us but never with us. Wasn't it our choice?”

Baron

Niiiiice!  Contest closes 24 hours from the time of this post.

TheTelephone

I wake up, my body slick with sweat and blood. Some of it's my blood. Some of it isn't.

For the first few moments, I'm confused; In a flash, I think I'm back on the ship. Back to the chains, and to the whippings. Back to the screams. I can almost smell the strangely anti-septic aroma; that other-worldly stink of latex and burnt hair. For a moment, I can't remember who I am, or where I am. Until my eyes focus, and I see the bars.

"San Diego."

I say it out loud, the city's name dropping off my tongue like a twenty-ton bowling ball. Still in fucking San Diego.

My arms and legs are trapped, intertwined with the arms and legs and heads and asses of about a dozen other poor souls. The nights have been growing colder, and the lot of us have started sleeping together again. I don't even know their names at this point; I stopped remembering names a long time ago.

San Diego. Still in San Diego.

I wrench my appendages free from the mass of entwined human flesh, and I let the cool air envelop me. Consume me. Make me whole again.

No visitors, yet. Must be a holiday. The stick-men seem to have holidays once every 10 days or so. Holiday mornings start slow, then the stick-men show up, and the stick-women show up, and all their stick-babies, and by nightfall the whole place is jam packed, full of stick-people, and stick-celebrities, filling the darkness with their stick-voices, looking upon us with black empty eyes that hide all their stick-thoughts...

It's going to be a busy night, but busy nights mean coins, and maybe even notes or dollars. I still remember the first time I saw those little stick-children, speaking in their bleeps and bloops, tossing copper coins so that they'd land just in front of our cage. The sinking feeling in my stomach only sunk further when I saw the others flock to the front of the cage. Clawing and scraping their nails against the hard concrete floor. I'd been so confused and disgusted that I refused to even make an attempt. They could put me in a cage, and they could poke and they could prod, but they couldn't make me dance. Oh how wrong I was.

After I'd gone hungry that first night, I began to catch on. Back then, there'd been Reginald. Everything was so simple under Reginald. You make a buck, you give half to Reginald. You find some food, you give half to Reginald. You meet a new lady friend? Well.....

Reginald's balls were too big for his brains, though. That's what got 'im out of here. That's what it takes to get out. Balls. All you need is a set of big brass balls, and you too could make it out of the Zoo, just like old Reggie did, right? Huh. You can still see his sun-bleached bones, hung up on that cross.

Call me sick-minded, but I still get a get a chuckle every time I remember that the stick-men's favorite method of execution is the cross. I guess when they came to Earth, they'd see it around so much, in all the churches and hotels and even on our jewelry. Guess they thought it'd instill some fear in us. And by and large, they were right.

I go to the corner and start to yak up yesterday's earnings. "We're all in this together," or at least that's what they said when we signed up. Back when we still thought we had a chance. Now I'm swallowing cash and coins before I go to bed, so that my fellow inmates don't get any bright ideas. Some hide their earnings in other places, but I'm not one to judge. So long as you don't mix and match, otherwise you'll end up with a ten-day fever and slow and painful death.

85 cents.

Not bad for a day's work. There was a time where a man like me could work, with his hands and his head, and bring in hundreds. Thousands, maybe. I forget the money, but I'll never forget what the money could buy. Roast chicken. Steak. A five course meal. Wine. Whiskey. A nice cold beer.

Now I spend 50 cents for some alien scum-sucker to spit porridge into a bowl, so that I can slurp it out of my hands. And I'm grateful for it. God save me, I'm actually grateful for it.

I remember being a child, driving down to the beach. Everything was so peaceful outside the car, but inside my folks were yelling. Fighting over something, something so terribly meaningless now that it could make me laugh and cry all at the same time. Oh, how I wish I cared for things that didn't even matter.

Now all I care about is getting my fair share of coins during the day, and NOT waking up to someone digging through my butt in the middle of the night.

The others start to stir. One of the new ones brought in fleas. He swears they were here already when he got here, but we all know. He's won't survive the week.

I watch them as they rise. Wiping the sleep from their eyes, and eating it. One of the women are pregnant and she's starting to show. None of the men have claimed it, but she doesn't seem all that broken up about it. Matter of fact, none of them seem all that broken up about anything. We don't seem sad anymore. Just tired. So very tired.

And that's unfortunate for more reasons than one. The stick-men, their faces don't move, not when they're happy, not when they're mad, not even when they talk. Just bleeps and bloops, at different volumes, and frequencies, and intervals. That's why they love us. That's why they get a kick out of us. We are awash in human emotion. It's in our nature to project what we feel on the inside, and once they got a load of us, boy they got to tittling and tattling, and my god you'd think Elvis just rised from the dead.

But the longer things went on, the less we seemed to care about anything at all. I watch as my fellow humans, some of the last remaining members of my own species, dig through their own feces for copper coins, or fight over a dropped note, or clear the parasites from their hair. They all do so wearing blank, emotionless masks. That's not good. That's not what they want from us. They love us because we're different. They love us because we're not them; because we're something else.

And for a moment, I really have to give that last bit some thought.

But hear they come, bleeping and blooping. Here come all those stick-men, with their stick-women, and their stick children. Some of them are already have fists stuffed with coins and notes. Coins and notes that mean absolutely nothing to them, but mean everything to us.

So, I step up to the bars and pull a sad puppy dog face. And I wonder if maybe it'll be me, today. Maybe I'll be the one to get a few notes. I'll have to fight for them, though, later tonight when the guards have gone to sleep.

Three stick-children have already tossed a few copper coins a piece. As I scrape them up, I realize that my face hurts so much; from smiling. Am I really smiling?

I pretend that it's all a dream and that I'll wake up one day, back in some bed that I can no longer remember. But I know it's all bullshit. This is no dream, and I'm never going to wake up in a real bed. Never ever again, for as long as I live.

San Diego. I'm still in San Diego.

Baron

....and we're closed folks!

It gladdens me to state the obvious: once again there are many high quality entries to vote for! ;-D  Congratulations in advance to all entrants for getting your stories submitted by the deadline. 

But now we get down to the gritty business of choosing some winners: this is a competition, after all.  Maybe some freaky hippies over in the Rumpus Room will start some sort of Fortnightly Writing Love-In where we can all just chillax and write in sweet harmony, but down here on the Comps Board we play for keeps: somebody has to win the honour of choosing the Hallowe'en theme for the next Comp! :=  So, without further ado, let's get down to some voting.  First, our entrants, in order of submission:

Durinde: THE SOMETHING
kconan: Devolution in a Bottle*
monkey424: Planet of the Crêpes
Sinitrena: THE Spectacle of the Century!!!
TheTelephone: San Diego Still*

   *Editor improvised titles, for the sake of consistency ;)

Voting will run from the instant of this post until three days hence, and will thus conclude on Friday Sept 26 whenever I can make it to a computer (not early....(roll)).  You may vote up to twice per category, so long as you feel that each writer really did outdo the rest in that area.  The categories are:

Best Character: You find one or several characters extra believable/captivating/magnetic/unique, etc.
Best Plot: The story arc was well-organized, coherent, and well-executed with appropriate pacing; basically the best story.
Best Homosphere: Combining our setting and atmosphere categories this time: who created the best humanarium environment or scenario?
Best Word Choice/Style: The technical art of combining words in clever or gripping ways.
Best Use of Theme: The moral of the story: who best explored the nature of humanity in close confines? (most thought provoking).

As always ties will be decided by the Vice President of America or me, depending on who's available.  Good luck!

Also..... there will be trophies!

BvB

kconan


Best Character: Durinde (Mygar, poor hapless Mygar), TheTelephone (the protagonist has an even more sad existence than Mygar)
Best Plot: Sinitrena (Sadly, I think think pygmies were actually put on display in a few zoos in the 1800s)
Best Homosphere: Monkey424, Durinde (Both created interesting and bleak homospheres (new word for me))
Best Word Choice/Style: Monkey424 (I loved the "...with a wave of his tentacle" and the cynical look at how humans are at home, among other things)
Best Use of Theme: Durinde, Sinitrena

Sinitrena

Quote from: kconan on Tue 23/09/2014 14:47:45
(Sadly, I think think pygmies were actually put on display in a few zoos in the 1800s)

As a matter of fact, a lot of people were put in "ethnological expositions" in america and central europe (don't know about other parts of the world) in the 19th century and into the 20th century, even as late as 1925. (There were some more even after that, but the concept had slightly changed and it was probably less degrading and a lot more voluntarily. Baron's picture in the first post for example comes from warsaw zoo in 2009 (Can't find an article in english right now, here's a short one in german.)) This practice was not limited to pygmies, though one of the most famous examples was a young pygmie man, Ota Benga. Appearently human zoos were quite lucrative and popular. Allthough there were sometimes protest, the mass liked these shows. According to the german wikipedia artical, which is slightly more informative than the english one, the exhibited people had contracts detailing duration of stay, their responsibilities during the show and their salary.  The most degrading part of these shows was probably the fact that those people were seen as a less developed stage of human evolution, as the "missing link" between apes and white people. I can't find any detailed information how the "exhibits" were actually treated during the shows right now.
(And here I thought I wouldn't need to put a historical note this time.  :))

Anyway, on to your stories and my votes.

Durinde: I like the ending of your story. It was obvious from the very beginning that "the something" was a force field and that people were put in their and probably mind-wiped, but I didn't expect the ending. Well done. I would have like some more details on the "outside world", though.

Kconan: Love your story, especially the "alien" Gregor. The way the homo sapiens prosperi act like the old-fashioned humans are so evil and bloodthirsty and at the same time look at it like nothing important, with such a disregard for life and such a distant, scolarly attention to their exhibits is amazingly written.

monkey424: I'm not sure what to make of your story. It's basically a comment on our society as it is right now, which is fine and that part is an interessting read, but the plot itself is kind of lacking.  Probably I'm just disappointed I didn't get a description of the  fluorescent fungus. They sound like fun.

TheTelephone: First off all: Welcome to the forums! In kconan's story nearly all humans die and still I think your story is the darkest and bleakest of this round. It's strange, your story has a lot of detail about what life is like in the cage and still I feel there are some important information missing. For example, why do they use money?

All right, votes:

Best Character: kconan
Best Plot: Durinde
Best Homosphere: kconan
Best Word Choice/Style: TheTelephone
Best Use of Theme: kconan

TheTelephone

Best Character: Durinde (Mygar really got me. :C)
Best Plot: kconan (A lot of info in this story, and everything still felt very tight plot-wise)
Best Homosphere: kconan (everything fell together really well, felt like I was reading a smal piece of something much larger)
Best Word Choice/Style: Monkey 424 (gleefully nihilistic, funny, and a great description of humanity's hum-drum lifestyle)
Best Use of Theme: Sinitrena (a very interesting take on the whole 'zoo as a prison' aspect, this one really surprised me)

monkey424

Best Character: kconan (for his Alrick character)
Best Plot: Sinitrena (the best plot twist)
Best Homosphere: TheTelephone (felt the most like a Zoo)
Best Word Choice/Style: Durinde, TheTelephone
Best Use of Theme: TheTelephone (The nature of humanity in close confines.. apathetic. Just like my train ride home today.)
    

Baron

Ooooo, that's close.  That's real close.  Tie for 1-2, with the pack not far back at all.  I'm going to extend voting for another day to see if we can snare a couple more opinions, after which if there is still a tie I will have to exercise my constitutional right.


In the mean time, something to keep you all salivating:

Baron

So be it....
     I want to say, before I vote, that the submissions for this round were all of top-most quality.  I'm not saying they were just of "high" quality, which I usually do (because it's usually true!).  No, this time they were all of top quality: each and every story is good enough to win.  It's unfortunate that we could only scrape together 4 voters to decide this: your work deserves wider dissemination.  Maybe if we got AGS A-Listers to theatrically read your submissions so that people could listen to them after they get their podcast fix....  But I digress!  To the voting:
   
Best Character: Is it the stubborn Mygar or the defiant Alrick?  The clinical Gregor or the squelching Zarly?  The self-righteous Michelle Webster or the unnamed survivor of San Diego?  For me the broken-spirited nameless character in TheTelephone's story really felt authentic to the situation.  Even though his soul is slowly being leached away, his deadpan narrative and unflinching reflections make him stand out above the others in my mind.

Best Plot: In terms of the most exciting story, I have to give it to kconan.  There was a build up with character and situation development, then action, twists, and finally resolution, all written in a tight, digestible and entertaining fashion.

Best Homosphere: Apparently I've misappropriated the word "homosphere", which actually refers to an atmospheric layer....(roll).  Anyway, you know what I meant.  I'm going to cast two votes here, for Durinde and monkey424.  Durinde's village surrounded by wilderness is what I would consider a design ideal for any enclosure that purports to show people in their "natural" habitat.  The ghostly "frightful beasts" and lonely snowscapes added to the atmosphere.  But humans are, somewhat regrettably, domesticated creatures.  So probably a more plausible habitat, especially if you wanted to have the humans on display (and not just camera) would be monkey424's junk strewn apartment. 

Best Word Choice/Style: Wow, were there ever some good turns of phrases this time....  I think I'm going to have to split my vote again.  One vote for monkey424 for how humanity "descended into chaotic stupidity", becoming about as "thick and inspiring as scruffosaurus shit."  And one vote for TheTelephone for the enclosure's "other-worldly stink of latex and burnt hair", the "mixing and matching" of coin-hiding orifices, and the rather disturbing prospect of being awakened by someone "digging through my butt".

Best Use of Theme: Two votes again.  I think Sinitrena does a very good job exploring the motives and attitudes of all people involved in the display of humans: the entrepreneur, the self-righteous protesters who know better for everyone, and those actually being displayed.  It was a very thought-provoking piece.  I also think TheTelephone did an amazingly dismal job of exploring the dehumanizing effect of being put on display, where your goals and aspirations shrink to the limits of what is possible in a tiny, finite domain.  To be fair monkey424 and kconan also explored the theme of how people would deal with being cooped up in tight confines or with limited resources (through the use of hedonism and violence respectively), but TheTelephone's insight that the experience would be more dehumanizing than anything else for me makes his work stand out above the rest.

So....  that means with 8 votes our winner is TheTelephone for a truly disturbing piece about the human display pen.  His reward is the truly awesome "Anthrosphere" golden trophy, and of course the coveted "Halowe'eny" theme for the next competition.  Congratulations TheTelephone!

There is a two-way tie for second place, with 7 votes each.  Congratulations to Durinde and kconan for some very solid pieces.  Your reward is of course the silver "Anthrosphere" trophy -display it proudly!  I look forward to competing with you two next month!

But I'm not done: there is also a tie for third place with 5 votes each!  Congratulations to monkey424 and Sinitrena for some very creative and thought-provoking writing.  Your bronze "Anthrosphere" trophy has a limited warranty so display it quickly before it implodes. ;)

So everybody wins! ;-D  I look forward to reading a lot more from everyone.  Keep up the good work, and see you next time!

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