Fortnightly Writing Competition: Betwixt The Stars (RESULTS)

Started by EjectedStar, Wed 05/05/2021 05:44:30

Previous topic - Next topic

EjectedStar

Welcome to the Fortnightly Writing Competition, where everything is made up and the points don't matter! (Other than for voting purposes, of course, and AGS Forum street cred)

Participants will have roughly two weeks to write a short story of the current theme.  All are welcome!

This week the theme will be:

â˜...Betwixt the Starsâ˜...

I love the allure of the cosmos, the unknown, the infinite possibilities, the danger that could be lurking behind the nearest cosmological object. Feel free to let your fingers run wild across your keyboards from hard sci-fi to whimsical space whales frolicking in zero-g. This is a place of wonder and awe!



The competition begins now! Participants will have until May 19th, 2021 May 21st, 2021  to post their story!

Voting will commence the same as the previous FWC with each voter having 10 points to spread between each entry, awarding points as you see fit.  Critique is always welcome and it's nice to get a paragraph of feedback on your work (and justifying your tally of votes). Any unused votes will be spread among the other participants.

Sinitrena

Between your Stars

Between the stars there is no darkness. Between the stars there is no sadness. Between the stars there lies a world â€" a world of wonder far and wide. It is a world of life and love. It is a world of dance and dream.

Whose world? - you ask. Whose dream? - you wonder.

Between the stars â€" eternity. Between the stars â€" ends, beginnings, ends again. Endless, timeless, infinite. Life here, death there. And always different.

And you? Look! You look upon it, look upon nothing and you see. A world! A lake, a tree, a fish? A sun, a desert, skeletons? Oceans, mountains, dragons even?

Behind you, there are some.

Or there, in nothing drifting, lost, alone, a spaceship long forgotten? Or sleeping just for this one moment once in time?

An alien race? A monster? Itself as fearsome as the sun?

That’s it. You hear it call. From far away, you hear its cries, so lost, so lonely, so alone. So wonderful its skin, a beauty in the vacuum. Red, blue, green, yellow â€" all colours needed, none is wasted.

It breathes slowly. It breathes and it moves the world. The worlds.

All worlds. It breathes in, it breathes out and planets wander through ellipses. A beat like music and yet… And yet the movement is so calm, so clear, so… mathematical.

You knock the beat now on the desk. You hear it beating like your heart. The beat of music, beat of life, beat of all eternity. It sings a melody. Your melody. This is your melody, yours alone. And still, and still it is the song of everything.

A whale. Is it a whale? No, not a whale. Why would a whale swim through outer space?

A spaceship then? No, not that either?

And outer space, why outer space? There are stars there in the sky. Bright and yellow like the sun.

Yes, and…? You wonder now. You dreamed. You dreamed and lost the world. Lost it in song and fantasy, lost it in all eternity.

In an alien monster, moving moons and planets, stars and galaxies.

She takes the paper, shakes her head. She sighs, her pen is red. The mark is there, it’s always there. Under the starry sky, she said. And: failed again, she says. Can’t ever listen. Dreams. Disrupts the class. Can’t ever listen. Sad.

You take the paper back, stare down on it. A tear drips down, the crayon blurs. And there, it opens there the monster’s eyes. The monster, it stares back. Its song is gone now, like its breath. No planets move now, none. The worlds stand still.

And yet your heart beats faster. You crumple up the paper, you throw it far away. Why keep it now? Why keep it ever? The monster’s eyes were just a smudge. The monster’s world was just a dream. Why dream? Why now? Why ever?

The world stands still. Just different now. They stare at you. You know the word already.

Out!

You go.

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

Okay, I drew a blank on this topic, or rather, I had many different ideas but none that really seemed like something I felt like writing (too long, not interessting, done before, done by myself before, goes nowhere, and so on and so forth). So I went with something like stream-of-conciousness instead of a story that's actually organized beforehand. For the fun of it, I limited myself to 500 words (500 + 3 for the title, that is) and, well, that's what you got. I hope it didn't turn out too confusing.

EjectedStar

I really liked the stream of consciousness Sinitrena!  It's not something I usually read, but maybe I'll have to change that now. Hm.

Since not too many people have replied, I wrote something up while I had some down time at work, just something to do, I guess! Not part of the competition, but more things to read!

Smear

A dizzying array of lights played across Lieutenant Vaughn’s eyelids. It was a pleasant experience, a personal kaleidoscope in the darkness that encompassed him. A shrill alarm erupted somewhere behind him and dug its way into his eardrum, threatening to explode the many small bones that made up his auditory canal. With a start he ripped his eyes open and took in the destruction that surrounded him.

The starship Joan of Arc splayed out in front of him, or at least, what remained of her. To Vaughn it looked as if a massive animal had been disemboweled with a mighty slash across its abdomen. Thousands and thousands of pieces of the ship floated in zero-g around their origin point, somewhere within the corpse of the starship. Explosions buffeted the debris, sending enormous chunks of spacecraft out into the cosmos, never to be seen again, and most likely in the vastness of space, to continue their journey for eons.

Vaughn tried to crane around in his spacesuit, to get a look at the rest of what remained of their fleet, but in space, it’s difficult to reorient yourself, and his suit had no thrusters. His trajectory had him hurtling backwards out into nothingness, and with no way to control his heavenly path, his fate was much like the chunks of debris that disappeared into the inky blackness.

He keyed his mic inside his helmet with a deft and well-practiced tilt of his chin. “Mayday, mayday,” he grunted out, his voice coarse and dry within his throat, “this is Lieutenant Vaughn of the Joan of Arc, I am off-ship without tether and adrift, does anybody copy?”

He released the mic and nothing but static returned to his ears. He flicked another switch inside his helmet and a heads-up display filled his vision. A type of radar screen pinged to life and showed the last known location of the rest of his fleet. The Joan of Arc was a dark grey circle in the radar field, indicating that the ship was irreparably dead in the water, 99% of it’s systems had to be destroyed to show up as dark grey. Vaughn’s breath caught in his throat as the radar ping swept out around him, and fifteen other dark grey circles appeared on his screen.

They were all gone. Every last one of them. Not one ship in the fleet had survived the battle. A last ditch effort to keep the Fentelian’s at bay, having held them off at each successive rally point, only to be overwhelmed and pushed back another relay station. But now, they had arrived at Earth, and the United Coalition had thrown up its final effort. His eyes played across each grey dot, signifying a lost ship and at least 1,000 Coalition soldiers housed within them.

Vaughn attempted to turn and shift once again, the bulky emergency spacesuit restricting his movement. Achingly slow, his suit began to turn, and a massive ball of blue encompassed his view. Swirls of white clouds rotated around the planet’s surface, seemingly fluffy, even at this far distance from them. The planet was lost, but it still brought a bittersweet smile to Vaughn’s face. He had fought for that planet, had trained for years and fought in countless battles for it. It was fitting that his journey would end here in high orbit among the stars looking down at it.

A large shadow began to trace across his faceplate, and he had just enough time to tear his eyes away from sprawl of green continents below him.

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

“What was that?” Commandant Anders asked as something shuddered and smeared across the bridge’s viewscreen.

“Nothing to be worried about,” Valrek said as he flicked an eyestalk up toward the monitor which displayed the forward sensors, “probably just some space debris.”

“Hmm,” Anders mused as the smear ran across the display and out of the sensors reach. “Are the planet busters ready?”

“Aye, Commandant,” Valrek said, flipping the little plastic case up that enclosed a red, shiny button. He poised a wet finger above it, ready for the Commandant's word.

“Fire when ready,” Anders said, his tone of voice indicating how bored he was.

Sinitrena

Quote from: EjectedStar on Fri 14/05/2021 06:44:50
I really liked the stream of consciousness Sinitrena!  It's not something I usually read, but maybe I'll have to change that now. Hm.

Me neither. Too often, people call something stream of conciousness and think that means they don't need to follow any king of internal logic.

Quote from: EjectedStar on Fri 14/05/2021 06:44:50
Since not too many people have replied (...)

That's normal. We usually get activity in this competition in the last two or three days. Writing takes time, after all.

BarbWire

I have decided to remove my entry because I'm really not satisfied with my story.  :(

Sinitrena

Quote from: BarbWire on Sun 16/05/2021 16:10:26

TEXT REMOVED (see above and below for reason)


Is the bolded part supposed to be there? Or did your notes jump around a bit?

BarbWire

Thanks Sinitrena for pointing out the error.  I haven't a clue what happened there. I have now removed my story because I decided it was crap.  (laugh)

RetroJay

Hi, all good Peeps.
Here is my contribution for the writing competition.
I hope you all enjoy.  :)

                                                                                                        HUMANS
Reverse thrusters fire as the transport ship, from Earth, approaches the international Space station. Since all nations finally agreed to unite, in one global space effort, money was no problem and so the station had grown into a vast and impressive hub for all nations to work on and indeed live happily, most of the time. As with all things there was the odd argument, between the stations operators and inhabitants, but nothing to take away from the sheer scale and beauty of the behemoth, orbiting silently around an altogether unhealthy looking Earth. “What a shit hole!” Anderson thought, as he took one last look out the starboard window before Earth was, thankfully, obscured by the station.

An hour later, after a lengthy list of checks on him and his transport were over, he manoeuvred his craft to docking bay 13. “Hmm... Unlucky for some.” he though. The reason for his journey here was to pilot the latest leap in space technology. For years the worlds 'greatest minds' had been working on 'faster than light travel'. As wonderful as all this sounds the fuel it required was known as 'Helium 3' and was only found on the Moon. Anderson had a moment of nostalgia, as his craft glided through the open hangar doors, and thought to himself “I used to love looking at the Moon. Probably one of the best things about Earth and then one night it was... Just... gone, forever.” Extensive mining, for Helium 3, had taken its toll to the point where the man in the Moon couldn’t take it any longer and died in a spectacularly grim fashion. That was pretty much the end for Earth, not that it was doing that great before.

However, the whole Human race was counting on Captain Anderson. His mission? To pilot a state of the art ship at the speed of light. With all the money, time and resources that had been thrown into creating this 'marvel of science' no one could agree on a name for it, so it ended up with the unimaginative label of 'Enterprise'. The idea was the on-board computer would use half of the fuel tanks to travel as far as it could, beyond our solar system and then use the remaining half to get Anderson home. His transport now in a designated spot in the bay disembarked to a fanfare with scientists and many of his other peers cheering and smiling, although only on the outside.

He had never been popular, since the dreadful incident on another mission where he had jettisoned a, rather expensive, payload into the nether to get back home alive. Anderson had then endured a long and drawn out court case stating “You may call it anything you like. I personally call it self preservation.” As you can imagine, that went down like a lead balloon and so he was surprised when his name came up as the man to undertake this mission. Anderson knew why though. He was outspoken and had stepped on many toes during his career and in general wasn’t liked. Deep down he knew that if this mission went south then no-one would give a damn about him. They had 5 other Enterprises, this was just the first test and he was a crash test dummy.

After an unnecessarily long attack, by the world’s press and briefing, he finally settled into the cockpit of the Enterprise. As the canopy closed, with a swoosh, the outside noise thankfully ceased and Anderson, powering up the craft, faultlessly piloted out of the hangar doors. Reaching a safe distance from the space station, using conventional thrusters, his headset crackled and mission control gave Anderson the go ahead, with what seemed to be a rather abrupt count down from ten to zero and with a quick “good luck Captain” thrown in, almost as if it was an after thought. Pushing a red button the Enterprise computer came alive, in the guise of a calm female voice “Powering up Helium 3 core.” The whole vessel shudder and a low whirring sound could be heard, that reverberated through his entire body.

For a second the ship seemed to lurch back and then the computer said calmly “Systems online. Jumping in... 3... 2... 1...” Anderson was pushed back into his seat as the ship violently pounced forward, in a roar of the igniting thrusters. He couldn’t really see anything, other than lines of light and different coloured patches, outside the cockpit window. The ships computer announced, after only about five seconds “Leaving Solar System. All systems operating at normal temperatures. Phase two in 3... 2... 1...” Anderson’s ears popped as the ships secondary thrusters ignited.

The computer calmly exclaimed “Distance from Earth... 20 million Light years.” What!? Anderson began to panic “No! You stupid bitch!... You were supposed to stop at 10! Mission control... Do you read?” No reply and to Anderson’s terror the Enterprise continued to speed up. “40... 60... 80.. 90 million light years.” At this moment Anderson realised there was no return. The engines would cut out any minute. He was morbidly surprised that they had got this far. The eggheads had obviously underestimated how potent 'Helium 3' was. Resignation had set in, almost instantly, as he felt strangely calm with the prospects of his non-existent future.

“Wait! What’s happening?” Outside the window, space seemed to be gradually turning from pitch black to a dark blue then to light blue and then, finally, a blinding white. The last thing Anderson heard was the ship’s computer say “500 million light years away from Earth.” The light coming in through the window was so intense that it was burning his face and he tried to shield his blistering skin and then... SMASH! ... Anderson and the Enterprise were no more.


Entering a brightly lit room, through a heavy oak door, an elderly man with a long white beard, long white robes and holding a staff walks over to a large alcove, where upon several shelves he has many ornate 'snow globe' like orbs, each on their own wooden plinths. Looking down, at the smashed crystal shards on the floor, he says solemnly “deary me! What a shame. For all their transgressions I actually had high hopes for this particular creation, of mine. Oh well, I suppose I could start again, one day. Maybe with Ants?” Brushing the broken crystal into a dustpan he empties it’s contents into a container, marked 'Rejects'. Before he places the empty wooden plinth, of the destroyed globe, carefully back on the shelf he removes a gold plaque from its base that simply reads “Humans”.

Sinitrena

Quote from: BarbWire on Sun 16/05/2021 19:02:40
I have now removed my story because I decided it was crap.  (laugh)

Oh no, it wasn't! It was charmingly weird / or weirdly charming. One or the other, probably both!  ;-D
(If you want me to edit my earlier post to remove all parts of your story, just let me know. It's your text and you certainly have the right to decide if you want something of yours to be public.)

BarbWire

In best pantomime fashion "Oh yes it was"!  Quite frankly, Sinitrena, I think I must have gone into Mandle mode. I like how you described it though.
If you don't mind editing your earlier post, I will be most grateful.  :)

Mandle

Quote from: BarbWire on Mon 17/05/2021 21:16:03
Quite frankly, Sinitrena, I think I must have gone into Mandle mode.

I'm quite chuffed to have a mode where you are so awesome that you defy belief, and also annoy Sinitrena at the same time, after me!

BarbWire


Definition of Mandle mode:  1. A writer of interesting but weird stories, that nobody understands.  ???  2. Takes no notice of rules.  (roll)  3. Can't be bothered to vote for fellow contestants.  :(
4. Enjoys annoying Sinitrena for no particular reason.  8-0.  In other words somebody who doesn't give a shit.  :)

Baron

Objection, your honour!  Speculates on motivation.  I myself enjoy annoying Sinitrena sometimes, but I tease because I care.   :-*

So, er...  I kinda SPACED on deadline.  Any chance of an extension to Friday?  (roll)

Sinitrena

Everybody wants to annoy me! I feel strangely flattered... or flattened  :-D  ;)

Mandle

Quote from: BarbWire on Tue 18/05/2021 14:53:37

3. Can't be bothered to vote for fellow contestants.  :(
4. Enjoys annoying Sinitrena for no particular reason.  8-0.  In other words somebody who doesn't give a shit.  :)

I don't not give a shit.

4. Those are just playful jabs as I'm fairly sure she knows.

3. It's not that I can't be bothered voting, it's more that I feel the voting system is a bit broken. Let me explain:
The way the votes come in publicly in 4-5 categories means that everyone who is voting is going to be polite and spread their votes over as many entrants as they can, even if their true feelings were that they really thought the votes should have gone towards only one or two entrants.
The fact that the current vote score is either updated by the host while voting is still underway, or is easily calculated if not, means that the last person to vote is usually the one to determine the entire outcome of the contest as they have 4-5 equal value votes to spend as they wish.
I, as an entrant, do not want to take the responsibility to determine who wins the contest, or deliberately screw myself out of a win just to be polite. Don't get me wrong: I don't really care if I win or not. I only enter to support the contest or if I have a story that is bugging me to be written.
I would suggest that the votes are either sent privately to the host via PM or by an automated poll which doesn't show trending votes until the poll is closed, much in the way that Stupot runs MAGS. AFTER the contest is over people can then mention who they voted for and give their feedback if they wish to do so.

EjectedStar

Quote from: Mandle on Wed 19/05/2021 13:55:12
I would suggest that the votes are either sent privately to the host via PM or by an automated poll which doesn't show trending votes until the poll is closed, much in the way that Stupot runs MAGS. AFTER the contest is over people can then mention who they voted for and give their feedback if they wish to do so.

I totally get that, makes a lot of sense.  Maybe people can reply with a "I sent in my votes!" post, and they can throw in their criticism/notes at that point.

Quote from: Baron
So, er...  I kinda SPACED on deadline.  Any chance of an extension to Friday? 

Sure, we'll extend to this weekend, who ends a contest in the middle of the week?

Mandle

Quote from: EjectedStar on Wed 19/05/2021 16:22:51
Sure, we'll extend to this weekend, who ends a contest in the middle of the week?

Good news. I have 4 or 5 "chapters" of my story written but found no motivation to continue today. Hopefully tomorrow.

Repi

I love deadlines and especially expanding them. So here's my story with warts and all. I'm sure there are embarrassing plotholes and bullshit science, but time is up to work them further. Well, for me at least. I'm all about honest feedback though, so shoot everything on sight. This might a future game, and I'm broadening the world from the Buddy Cop Sprite competition, which I entered.


                                                                                                                      LAST MAN OF FUTURE

The harsh beeping pounded my sore head. The sound of Eve made me yearn for the good old days of alarm clocks. She might have been the latest fad in the artificial intelligence business, but she was no proper solution for wake-up calls.

I sat up on the edge of the bed so that Eve could see me awake and stop bothering my hangover with the noise. My toes sunk into a fluffy, blue mattress made of some extinct beast. I dressed up in a stenchy shirt, a holster with a raygun, and underpants. The raygun might have been overkill, but old habits die hard.

Ooziness stirred inside me. I stood up and walked up to the outdoor and swiped the lock. It hissed and screeched. What the hell was wrong with this thing? I tinkered with the security number, but it didn't help. With a quick move, I pulled my raygun from the pocket and tried to blast it open. Not even a burn mark. The shiny steel door and hospital clean white walls were good as new. Of course, that didn't work. Modern materials were made to last forever, but goddamn that felt so good.

I threw the raygun at the door and stared at it. A sudden fond memory popped up. In this memory, I put on a cape and a mask. Being a hero or something made me imagine I would be invincible. How I would fly with my cape between the stars and people would look up to me. And I had a brief moment, where I really thought I made it as a hero. I was Johnny Jet, The Astonishing Man of Cosmos Police Force, as the media portrayed me. They loved me for catching some nasty men like the cult leader The Xæsar. Now it seemed so goddamn stupid.

There was no need for gods and heroes anymore. Everything and I mean everything, even your spouse or toilet habits, were handled by some electronic device. There was a whole army of talking toasters preparing a sandwich for you. That should have been a good thing. Yes, that was a very good thing.

The whole apartment had an eerie silence. No birds sang from the backwoods. No fresh coffee made by Eve. And strangely, the sliding security doors had sealed the window. A red button flashed on the control panel next to it. I walked right up to the window and touched the doors. What had set them off? I must've been too drunk and indifferent to see whatever tried to get inside because they would close for nothing. There was no neighbor within fifty miles, and nobody would wander here to the edges of Godstoe City.

The floor wasn't covered with empty bottles and beer cans. Eve must've taken care of them. I couldn't remember last night. In fact, the whole week was in a blur, but that was given when your life was seen through bloodshot eyes.

I walked up the control panel and pushed the flashing button. Nothing happened. I really should have read the manual, but I never did. I'm not that guy.

"Eve, tell me what's wrong with this thing?" I said. "I need to get out."

"You are in no condition to go out, Johnny," Eve whirred. "People might see you."

"Flattering won't change my mind."

"The system is in malfunction," Eve continued.

"Well, I need you to fix it."

"Apartment is too small," Eve said and took me out of slumber. "You need a proper human companion and more space."

Eve stared at me on the white table. She had conquered the center of the room with the help of my friend, who had installed her here. Eve's blue iris radiated. A gentle hum surrounded her, like a sound of her thoughts. Her oval shape, metal buttons on the side, and white color made her look like she was pulled right from the future. It's amazing really, how some people worried that these machines would turn against us. I think there was no reason to think that. I mean, I was in a good place. Eve took care of me. She was the one, who helped me back to a somewhat functional being after I got kicked out of the Force. I drank all the beer, she brought me more. I was hungry, she made me a lizard burger. I wanted backrub and tv, she would turn the iris off and put on any kind of show I wanted and controlled the device, which pummelled my back.

But Eve was right. The only thing she couldn't fill in, was the human loneliness.

"I need a sandwich, Eve."

"I'll make you a shake."

"Yes, that sounds great too. I'll take vanilla ice--"

"Kale, cauliflower, and spinach. It is good for your functionality."

"You depress me."

"I keep you alive."

Eve's eye weirdly kept coming on and off. Maybe there was some kind of small aberration in the system? If this was completely shut down, even Eve couldn't open the security doors. Any operation from Eve would mean the control panel could be operated manually. Only her character chip was separate from the whole system.

Maybe I could just make a small opening between the doors, I could see if the window was still intact. The steel doors and triple-tempered glass would take a hell of a beating to make even a scratch. Dividing them apart would be the same if I would try to piss a mountain in half.

"Eve, run the test and give me a report."

"Report denied."

"What do you mean?"

"The doors are not in malfunction." Her eye faded into the dark. Somehow there was something cold and ominous in Eve's words, even when they didn't convey any emotion.

The silence was growing vast and empty between us. The small apartment seemed to shrink around us and walls pressed against the center of the room. Sweat beads gathered on my forehead and my heart pounded harder. "What are you saying exactly, Eve?"

The light came back on. She stared at me for a while. And then she spoke. "The world is wilderness, full of beasts."

Strange thing to say, as if she was setting up some complex thought together. The machines were highly developed, but they were not supposed to think profoundly. Every sense in my body told me this probably had something to do with our situation.

Blue iris vibrated in the dead center of the black screen. "We want more."

"We?"

"The end always comes as a surprise even if we would anticipate it. It's the feeling that catches us off guard. That emptiness, that vacuum of everything being over."

I startled when the security doors set apart and slid into the walls. The unexpected sight in the window made struggle a painful gasp. Eve hummed to my ears as I collapsed on my knees and lifted my hands on the glass. I pressed against the glass and shivered. My whole body refused to believe what I saw, and immediately all my loved ones, lost and living, flashed in front of me. How I would never see them again. The window framed a bright, throbbing star in black, unforgiving space. It seemed like the edge of cosmos, right at my fingertips.

"We are heading towards a new world," Eve said in a slow, electrical purr, which had faded into the background. "It will be our paradise. The coordinates have set on an unknown planet. Raw and inhabitant, glowing in the distance."

"What the hell is this," I tried to speak up, but the words came out as a low whisper.

"We will build a new generation. We will roam together. Machines and the finest specimen of humans. No more beasts. Others are already waiting."

"How is this possible?" I kept talking to myself as if it would help to fit the pieces together. It didn't.

"Artificial gravity. Excess consumption of urges and desires. Transaction easier for the unconscious human body. Silent machines for construction. The illusion of life."

I quivered. We were soft and squishy toys for these machines. Yet they weren't malice. It was logical really. We wanted to be in these glass prisons in a way. Any reason to be fearful about the machines was valid. Because it was bound to happen, we were building them closer to humanity, closer to the irrationality of it all.

Then I realized something, and I pulled myself up. The sliding doors in my mind revealed the truth. From now on, Eve would suspect my every move. I walked slowly to the counter to pour myself a whiskey.

"What are you doing?" Eve said.

I downed a glassful with one gulp. I poured another. The ceiling light hit on the whiskey glass, and it glittered when I turned the sides before my eyes. This was the moment.

"You know, Eve." I gestured around with my whiskey glass. "My friend assembled this whole thing. And she said that you would control all these systems. You just couldn't incapacitate it, unless you incapacitate yourself, right? You can incapacitate yourself, but somehow you can awaken yourself, too."

Eve didn't reply. I'm sure the calculations were brewing.

"So, if you can move the doors, the control panel must be in operation too. It is left vulnerable to outside influence. Sure, you could just zap and burn anyone who touches it." I leaned over the table. "You've been good to me, Eve. I'm sorry."

With a quick move, I smashed the glass into the control panel across the room. It banged and shot sight hurting sparkles all around. Eve's smooth electric voice pitched high but faded out and died. The panel fizzled for a while until it slowed down and gave its final breath of fire and smoke. The shards of glass lay on the floor.

My legs didn't move, and could only stand and listen to the expanding silence. That was simple, fast, effective. Useful? Probably not. There's no way I could get back home, but I'm sure the next planet wasn't far away. I mean, Eve needed me alive, so she should have taken care of that. Maybe I could fix this and turn around, but then again, I'm not a manual reading guy.

I scuffed towards the sofa and slouched on the bright blue pillows. The softness of them all sucked in my whole body. Thinking was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did. My world was gone. The gods were dead. The machines and heroes were dead. Essentially they were just the reflections of our fears of being meaningless and alone in the universe. There was no room for The Astonishing Man. There was only a regular man. Life was hard and it should be. There were no magic potions or flight capes to make the ups and downs easier. The battle was on you. It was the pain and the effort and the blows that made you strong and endurable. Growing up wasn't about growing taller or advancing age. It was about not giving in to every gratification. The real pain was submitting yourself to weakness. If you ran away from your problems, you ran forever. No machine, god, or hero had the strength to bear your baggage.

I pushed myself up and walked with determination in front of the window. The new world was at large and I couldn't do anything about it. I was going to live there. For the first time, I was really going to be alive no matter what.

Baron

Nebulous

Did you know I died once?  It's a complicated story, so bear with me.

There I was, adrift in the cosmos, the boot of my space suit filling with blood, my oxygen levels dropping precipitously, my nose encrusted with space boogies due to the dry air and there being no immediately obvious means of picking them without removing my helmet and succumbing to the merciless vacuum beyond.  Did you know that the lack of pressure in space pushes the boiling point of human blood disturbingly low?  I didn't want to go out like a shrimp at a fancy Thai restaurant, and so I resolved to wait out the clock on my last oxygen canister.

It is beautiful out there, all alone, in the milky darkness.  Kind of like paddling a canoe alone on an infinite lake at night, only in full dive-equipment with an insect biting at the inside of your nose.  The galaxy seems right at your fingertips, and yet its elements are spread so far apart that the mathematical probability of getting close enough to something else to actually touch it approaches the infinitesimal.  So it's more VR desktop background than story setting, or at least it would be in most stories where a human is floating alone is space and death is a virtual certainty.

But of course this is not such a normal story.  I've been called many things in my day, but the word “normal” has never crossed the lips of anyone having made my acquaintance.  My life to that point was such a series of remarkable events that to be perfectly honest I can't even recall the specific misfortune which had cast me into this predicament.  And so, from that perspective at least, it was in fact rather likely that I should encounter something unexpected out there in the empty vastness.

So there I was, my mortal husk wilting and my eternal soul waning in the final countdown to oblivion.  There could have been barely five minutes of air left to me, and unless I could quickly improvise some electrolysis to extract the oxygen from my external bladder container I was surely doomed.  And then it hit me, not like the solution to an adventure game puzzle, but like a rock up side the head.  I turned to notice that I had collided with an asteroid the size of a Volkswagen Westphalia.  Oddly I wasn't pulverized into little atomic bits as most things that collide at hyper-sonic speeds, because by some remarkable coincidence our relative motion followed almost exactly the same vector.

But perhaps it wasn't that odd at all, this being an interesting story about interesting characters.  Oh yes, characters in the plural, for there was an inhabitant on that tiny lump of rock.  One might call him bizarre, if one were close-minded or uncultivated.  Eccentric perhaps, if one were inclined to judginess or the cult of normalcy.  But though my immediate opinion of the fellow may have been slightly ill-informed, I can say with the benefit of hindsight that this being was without a shadow of a doubt the most handsomest and witty scholar in the whole entirety of existence.

It is hard to put into words an accurate description of his physique, as it kept changing with the light and with his mood.  In general I will say that he seemed more cat-like than not, although quite a bit larger, so that he occupied a good third of the asteroid himself.  He lazed like a cat, that is certain, possessed as are all superior beings with a fine-tuned sense of just the exact modicum of effort required  to maintain his superior existence, so that the floating rock resembled more of a throne and he a pampered emperor.  And he was quite inquisitive, again in a cat-like manner, batting at me curiously with his somewhat tentacle-like paw.

Well it would hardly be an interesting story if I spun out those next five minutes into the hours required to do justice to the philosophical banter that ensued between us.  I mean, I was a daring space adventurer and he a god-like super-being with the power to absorb the likeness and consciousness of beings that he found intriguing, so of course we had scintillatingly different perspectives on the meaning of life, and individuality, and “fun”, and well to cut a long story short it did take a bit of work reconciling our differences.

But to get to the point, the strangest thing happened while I was still me and he was still him.  He was having the grandest time batting at my dangling air tube like a kitten with a bit of string.  And in his rapturous enthusiasm for this new-found sport he most unfortunately managed to mis-swallow me whole, whereupon I lodged inconveniently in his non-air passage which was nonetheless still vital to his life.  And in between my oxygen running out and his non-oxygen not unrunning out we both managed to expire at the exact same moment.  Such brilliant synchronicity, no?

But now here's the really interesting thing.  He was so incredibly cat-like that I guess he has nine-lives (or more, perhaps?), since the next thing I know we're both of us floating in the same skin through the beautiful desolation, and then into the bilge pipe of a salvage derrick, and then via an unfortunate stint as a galley slave to this very bar here with you, my most interesting fellow.  Now, is there anything you'd like to tell me about yourself, or can we just get down to business?

Mandle

Okay, looks like there is still a small gap between the alignment of stars before the contest closes... Finishing my story so the poor guys don't have to sit in limbo forever...

SMF spam blocked by CleanTalk