IV.151
NOTICE: To continue this storyline, please pay $20 for the next semester.
User: SYLVAR
Date: 13-Dec 11:40 PM 818898023
IV.152
Heh. Really.
Actually, I spoke with ZOROASTER this evening, and we are plotting the further
adventures of the Man in Black...stay tuned...
User: I was a Traveler in an antique land
Date: 14-Dec 09:16 PM 818975791
IV.153
Better hurry.
The VAX implodes in less than 6 weeks. (i.e. all personal accounts expire).
8(
"It's kinda like seeing the universe collapse, ain't it?"
"Shut up and eat your stew."
User: Enterprise - "To be decommissioned FEB 1st"...8)
Date: 20-Dec 01:08 PM 819464939
IV.154
I know, it's a crazy time to be drawing new maps...but I did this one anyway.
:) It'll help somewhat with the geography of the current story.
Map of the City and Surroundings
| \ Info-Bahn ___---~~ N
\ `-,--.____.----~~~ |
Bayshore Rd.--> / . . . . W -- + -- E
|| . `. T H E |
T VVC--> +| . Suburbs `. S
H \\. ___ '
E Indigo \ \ / \ .' Desert Highway
Toucan--> + |OLD CITY =======================================> ??
B \ \ ___ / ' + <--Ruins
A | / `.
Y || ### <--Airfield
\\ . . . ' D E S E R T
||
User: Traveler
Date: 27-Dec 08:25 PM 820095941
IV.155
Enter the P.I.:
ZOROASTER had been driving since sometime the day before--if days and nights
had any meaning, after all the time zones he'd crossed. He'd left in haste.
The desert crossing was a grueling drive at the best of times, and this was
not the best of times. All the garrisons had been abandoned, and the way
stations buried by the sands; his provisions had dwindled to a wax-paper tube
of borscht and a travel mug half-full of cold, bitter coffee.
Three times he'd nodded off, waking when the car plowed harmlessly into the
roadside sand-drifts. But he pressed on, mindful at first of possible pursuit
and then afraid of stopping. Bad things happened to people who pulled off the
highway for too long.
His vision blurred and sparkled, and he remembered other times when the auroras
had blown in from the edges of his sight. His hands ached on the wheel, ready
to slip off the sweaty vinyl...and then he topped a rise and saw the City.
Construction barricades lined the road--the first trace of civilization. Then
a billboard for cigarettes, and another proclaiming in stark black type:
THE VOICE OF HIM THAT CRIETH IN THE WILDERNESS:
PREPARE YE THE WAY OF THE LORD!
MAKE STRAIGHT IN THE DESERT A HIGHWAY
FOR OUR GOD!
Zoroaster wondered aloud, "Paid for by the Ministry of Public Works, or the
fundamentalists?" Then: "Whose Lord, what God...'slouching toward Bethlehem
to be born'?"
He passed through a brief border zone of boarded-up gas stations and rusting
trailers, and then the Wall loomed ahead. Now he slowed behind a line of cars.
Up at the gate, gendarmes stopped vehicles at random. Zoroaster lifted his gun
from the passenger seat. He'd been firing it across the dunes to keep himself
awake, but now it had to be hidden.
He passed the police checkpoint without being stopped. Through the stone
archway he entered the Old City. The glowing radium hands of the dash clock
said it was quarter past five. Now he was on the central boulevard, where
shabby tinsel-and-wireframe Christmas decorations rustled on the lightpoles.
Zoroaster pulled in at the Stop-n-Blow, a familiar diner hang-out. The food
was awful, but the gin was cheap and the informants plentiful. After picking
listlessly at a plate of grey-toned hash, he drove to his one-up-one-down
brownstone rowhouse on the Algerian Way.
He stumbled in the door, almost too tired to see, but his observant eyes caught
the edge of a white envelope on the doorjamb. He stooped and picked it up.
Who would know to reach him here, and not at the office?
He shut the door and tore the end of the letter open. Inside was a hastily
scrawled note from a man he remembered well: Mangardo, a low-life no-good
two-timing hired thug who'd last been seen working for the wrong crowd in
import-export. It said:
Dear Zoroaster PI:
I never thought I'd be asking the guy who sent me to the big house for
ten years to do nothing for me but I need your help big time - I been
working for a big man, big man, good money, I had a future with him,
understand? But now, Mr. Frost, he dead! He got us all in something
bad!!!!! I know you been messed up in weird stuff before. HELP!!!
I'll find you, I just wanted you to know why I was coming.
- Mangardo
"Just for you I'll put my gun under my pillow," ZOROASTER said to the letter.
He tossed it aside dismissively, sure that anything Mangardo wanted was trouble
and nothing else. Without stopping to remove his boots or his jacket he fell
into bed and into sleep.
Vague uncertain dreams came, dreams of being hunted through a warren of narrow
streets. The end never came, in the manner of dreams, but he knew it was
inevitable: the predator who followed him would take the chase to the end, to
death.
When he rose from the tangled sheets, the morning sun was beating through the
dusty window. His sweat-drenched desert clothes suffocated him, and he tore
them off on the way to the shower. The hot water hit him and allowed his
memory free claim to his mind. He turned his dreams over: the return of the
old familiar fear which had haunted him so often in the night. Why was it
here?
As he tidied his fresh clothes and more or less straightened his tie, he saw
the note again. He picked it up from the floor, and read it, looking for what
ensnared his mind. Frost, who was Frost? What could he have done?
He abandoned the quest for answers to consult a bottle of scotch...but in
mid-pour he stopped and set the low-ball glass down. He looked at each of the
four walls of the room, studying the cracked brick and the stains of his uneasy
living. At last he felt a drive he could act on, at last he snatched his keys
from the table and went to the door.
User: Traveler and Zoroaster
Date: 27-Dec 09:27 PM 820099791
IV.156
I like how that ended right at line 666. :)
ZOROASTER drove north through the suburbs to clear his head, but the darkness
lingered in his mind. He cut across on the Infobahn, finding the sea, then
followed the coast south towards the Virtual Vax Cafe, and his office above it.
A thin cotton veil of cloud, backlit by sun, made the sky bright white over the
rolling meadows north of the VVC. The Cafe building was around the next bend,
beyond the trees; he could usually spot the top of the Ivory Tower from here.
Past the woods, the edge of the parking lot in view, and...something wrong.
The waters danced where the building should be. He let the car roll to a stop,
and stared in utter stupefaction. The parking lot had been torn down the
middle; now the asphalt's broken edge gave way to the expanse of the Bay. Only
one car remained, a black police sedan, and a man in a captain's uniform stood
by its open door, fumbling with something.
Zoroaster slid the car forward, and called out the man's name: "Peugeot! What
are you doing here? And--the Cafe?"
The policeman turned, a revolver in his trembling right hand. He looked at the
detective as if he must be mad. "Don't you see him? Mon Dieu, man! Don't you
see him coming?" His hand shaking, Peugeot gestured down the southward curve
of the Bay road. The P.I. looked, and saw a lone figure several dozen yards
off, walking steadily towards them.
"Who--" The question died unspoken. He knew. It was the Man in Black.
There came a loud cracking, and the outer edge of the lot gave way. Peugeot
danced away from his car as it slid into the water. "Sacre bleu! Ma voiture!"
"GET IN!" said Zoroaster, throwing open the passenger door.
Peugeot scrambled in. "Drive, for ze love of God! Plus vite!" Zoroaster
floored the accelerator; the tires spun for a second, then the car leaped
forward, toward the Man. "No, no, other way, ze other way!"
"I'll run the bastard down!" screamed the P.I. "For all the good it'll do..."
The black-clad figure grew larger through the windshield, staring at the
approaching vehicle. His gaze was serene, with a trace of a smile, even when
the car slammed into him, knocked him down. Several terrible thumps--then they
were over and past him.
Neither Zoroaster nor Peugeot spoke. Then Zoroaster dared glance in the
rearview mirror. The Man in Black was sitting up, standing, perfectly calm,
perfectly unharmed. He was turning, walking, walking after them.
"Ze Cafe has departed...sailed away, just before you arrived," said Peugeot.
"I came to warn them. I keep many secrets, and have been well-paid to keep
them...but not zis. What you ran over back there, what you killed, was a
monster. And as long as I am police commissioner, you shall not be
prosecuted--"
"Because I haven't killed him, you fool! Look in your mirror." Peugeot
looked, and was struck silent. Then they rounded a bend, and the Man was no
longer visible. "He will find us. Have no doubt. He will find us."
The tension eased to uncomfortable silence as the car rumbled down the road.
They passed through the marina district in silence, then entered the walled
Old City. "What is to be done?" Peugeot asked the wind, mournfully.
Zoroaster just laughed, a hollow and unhappy sound.
User: Traveler and Zoroaster
Date: 29-Dec 07:38 AM 820222738
IV.157
<>
Guess what?
:)
"Good afternoon, staff and patrons of the Virtual Vax Cafe. This is your
proprietor speaking. Our altitude is about thirty thousand feet, but we're
about to begin our descent toward Board Twelve. Conditions are pleasant--cool
and sunny, with just a scattering of cumulus clouds. We're still figuring out
our itinerary during our stay here, but it looks like there'll be plenty of
ways to amuse ourselves. Madame Fong Enterprises has developed the place
pretty heavily, I hear..."
TRAVELER switches off the cordless microphone into which he's been speaking,
and gazes out the Greenhouse window at the sky. It's a flawless day, and the
brilliant sunshine is a pleasant contrast to the gloom of Board Seven. But
Traveler can't help having strange suspicions in the back of his mind.
"There's something not right about this place," he mutters.
"Looks peaceful to me," SYLVAR says, reclining on a nearby deck chair and
pecking away at his laptop. "Want me to go ahead with the descent, or wait?"
"Mmm...CADO, what does the Atlas show below us?"
The VVC's bouncer-cum-navigator sits on the edge of another deck chair and
pores over the MBBS Atlas. "Well, the map for Board Twelve is kinda odd...it
almost looks like a children's placemat from some restaurant." He sniffs at a
stain on the page. "Smells like...duck sauce?"
Trav walks over and looks at the map. Indeed, it's drawn cartoonishly, and
apparently not to scale. "'Skippy's Fun Map of Board 12'," he reads. "'Word
Jumble and Connect-the-Dots on back'. Uh-oh..."
Cado checks the compass and some of the other dials on his watch. "I think
we're near Meckling...almost directly above...here," he says, pointing to a
spot on the map.
"Yikes, a huge mutant hamster!!"
"No, silly, that's Jo-Jo the Giant Prairie Dog! And he's marking the location
of Madame Fong's Vacation Kingdom and Bargain City."
"'Marking the location', huh?" Traveler shudders. "Well...sounds harmless
enough. Jon, go ahead and take us down. I can't think of any reason not to."
Sylvar types in commands which slightly reduce the flow of hot air to the large
balloon above them. Almost imperceptibly, the Cafe begins to sink toward the
earth...
* * * *
The VVC touches down with a slight jolt in an empty parking lot. On one side
of the lot is a four-lane highway; on the other is the looming figure of Jo-Jo
the Giant Prairie Dog, taller even than the Ivory Tower. Jo-Jo holds a sign
that says:
MADAME FONG'S VACATION KINGDOM
And Bargain City!
Rides * Shopping * Food * Fun
"This looks kinda cool," Louch says, reading the sign from one of the White
Room's windows.
"I dunno," says Traveler. "How come the parking lot is empty?"
"Maybe it's the off season. Come on, it can't hurt to have a look!" She opens
the front doors and steps outside. Cado, Sylvar, GRAHAM and several others
follow, and soon a large group is standing around in the parking lot talking.
Trav sighs. "Might as well join 'em, I guess." He steps outside, descends the
small hill that the VVC has brought with it, and joins the group in the shadow
of Jo-Jo.
"Doesn't seem to be anyone at the ticket window," Jon Vallee says. "But the
sign says OPEN."
"Look, guys, I found this brochure on a bench over there," Cado says, walking
up. "Maybe it'll tell us more about this place." The others gather round and
read...
User: Traveler: Top Ten Megamix
Date: 4-Dec 00:15 AM 818036183
IV.158
----*----
Come one, come all, to
MADAME FONG'S VACATION KINGDOM
And Bargain City
"The Place You'll Never Forget, However Hard You Try!"
A Family Favorite For Over 1.3 Years!
----*----
FEATURING...
Amazing Rides:
"Big Bertha" -- Guiness World Record for longest roller coaster ride on the
planet. During this 53-minute extravaganza, feel accelerations up to 11 G's,
just like real-life "NASA" space astronauts! Management not responsible for
blackouts, loss of bowel/bladder control, internal hemorrhaging, or heart
failure. Please sign insurance waiver before boarding.
Scrumptious Foods:
"Le Maison du Spam" -- Enjoy fine dining at the Vacation Kingdom's "gourmet"
restaurant, featuring everyone's favorite "potted meat product!" New on the
menu this month: Spicy Spam 'n' Lima Bean Goulash, Spam-sicles[tm], and
Batter-Fried Southern-Style Spam Logs in Rich Brown Gravy.
"T.G. O'Flanagle's Drinkery & Eatery" -- Yes: the same bland yet fat-laden
menu, oversized portions, obnoxiously perky employees, and walls cluttered with
tacky bric-a-brac that your family has come to expect across the country!
Great Shopping:
"The Bargain Barrel" -- We're scraping the bottom of the barrel to bring you
rock-bottom discounts! Guido the Sicilian Jumbo Shrimp says "Ay, check out
our-a jumbo deals and-a shrimpy prices...we make-a you an offer you can't
refuse!" THIS WEEK: Surplus jars of mayonnaise from Operation Desert
Storm--ONLY $0.12 PER GALLON!!
"Ye Olde-Fashioned Liquid Bread Factory" -- Visit the modern industrial plant
where this warm, gooey treat is produced, right here in the Vacation Kingdom!
"Just like Skippy's grandma used to make!" Be sure to stock up on "Liquid
Bread" at the Factory Outlet Discount Bakery Shoppe. Now available in
Homestyle Original, Tangy Nacho Cheese, Sour Black Cherry, and Creamy "Nougat"
flavors. FREE SAMPLES FOR THE KIDS!
And Other Fabulous Attractions:
"It's a Karaoke Kristmas" -- this twice-daily Sing-along is conducted by Skippy
Podar himself! 5:45 a.m. and 11:45 p.m., in front of the Giant Armillary
Sphere, rain or shine.
"My Story: The Madame Fong Visitors Center" -- A series of 13 dramatic
dioramas, in which authentically detailed, life-size Droid-O-Matic[tm] robots
re-enact the pivotal moments in Madame Crustacea J. Fong's tumultuous life and
career. PLEASE keep small children behind the guardrails!
ALL THIS AND MUCH, MUCH MORE FOR ONE LOW ADMISSION PRICE!*
*Discounts for seniors, kids, and church groups--ask ticket agent for details.
----*----
Conveniently Located in the Heart of the Tri-City Area:
Meckling 3 miles
Dubutte Falls 7 miles
East Succotash 10 miles
--HEY DAD: PLENTY OF FREE PARKING--
Just turn at the sign of Jo-Jo the Giant Prairie Dog!
----*----
MADAME FONG'S VACATION KINGDOM
And Bargain City
"Give the Mouse a miss. Spend your vacation with us!"
User: Traveler 8)
Date: 6-Dec 06:29 PM 818274608
IV.159
"How...quaint," TRAVELER says after reading the brochure. "But you guys don't
actually want to go in there, do you?"
"Hey, we might as well see the sights while we're here," LOUCH says. "That is,
if the tickets don't cost too much. I wonder where the ticket clerk is?" She
steps over to the empty booth, and sees a button next to the window that says
PUSH FOR SERVICE. She pushes it, with no apparent result. "Hmm..."
From somewhere nearby comes a motorized whirring, and the slow scraping of
gears. Suddenly, GRAHAM, standing in the parking lot smoking a cigarette,
cries out: "Jo-Jo's head is moving!"
The group runs out from under the overhang in front of the ticket booth to see.
The giant prairie dog's head is slowly tilting back, so that the statue's face
starts to turn up toward the sky. "...the HELL?" says CADO.
Jo-Jo's head stops swiveling when his face is looking up at about a 45-degree
angle. But then his eyes begin to glow, a sinister bright red. Twin red beams
shoot out from Jo-Jo's eyes, lancing into the heavens. They blink off after a
fraction of a second, but then blink right on again. The beams keep blinking,
in a seemingly random sequence of shorter and longer bursts.
"Some kind of signal?" Trav says.
"Of course! It's Morse!" says SYLVAR, pulling out the pad and pencil he
usually uses for taking down coffee orders. "My code is a little rusty, but
let's see..." He begins dictating and scribbling. "L...A...T...E..."
"Late?" says Louch.
"...A...S...S..."
"What a _vulgar_ prairie dog!" Traveler snorts.
"...I...M..."
"'I'm a late ass?'" Cado ventures.
"...I...L...A...T...E...It's repeating!," says Sylvar. "Just one
word...A...S...S...I...M...I...L...A...T...E..."
"Uh-oh," says Graham, dropping her cigarette to the asphalt. "I have a bad
feeling about this..."
But at that moment, the beams stop, and Jo-Jo's eyes go dead. Everyone sighs
in relief.
"Wonder what that was all about?" says Cado. "Boy, Skippy sure is weird."
It isn't until they hear the sonic boom that they notice the immense grey cube
descending out of the sky towards them...
User: Traveler
Date: 8-Dec 05:51 PM 818445118
IV.160
Hello (hello, hello)...is there anybody out there?
"BACK TO THE VVC!" shouts TRAVELER. Everyone breaks into a run as the ominous
metallic cube, large as a city block, bears down on them. They reach the
safety of the Cafe quickly; they bolt and bar the front doors from the inside,
but these puny measures make no one feel really secure.
Now the VVCers watch anxiously from one of the White Room's large windows, as
the hovering craft slows and stops above the Cafe, eclipsing the sun. The deep
rumble of its unseen engines sets the entire building trembling.
A terrible metallic voice rings out from the cube-ship. "WE ARE BORG. YOU
WILL BE ASSIMILATED INTO OUR COLLECTIVE. RESISTANCE IS FUTILE."
Now a shimmering, irregular cone of green light emanates from a point on one
side of the ship; the wide end of the cone surrounds the VVC. It is a tractor
beam; the building is lifted abruptly from the ground, sending its occupants
tumbling. The tractor beam brings the building up to the level of the Borg
ship, and then holds it there, a short distance away.
From somewhere within the cube comes a loud "BEEP-BEEP"--someone tooting a
horn? As if in response, the statue of Jo-Jo winks one eye. Then the ship
begins to rise through the skies, towing its captured Cafe with it...
Several miles away, an old man and woman sit on a porch in Meckling.
"Hey, Jedediah...what's that in the sky over there?"
"Eh...Looks like some more city slickers gettin' themselves into trouble, down
at the old Fong place."
"Oh, yeah...the haunted amusement park. That's where them Zabriskie kids
disappeared in the big blizzard of '75."
"Yep, I remember that year well...that was when Grandma's false teeth fell out
and got caught in that movin' staircase at Sears Roebuck...heheheh...those
choppers gummed up the works but good...say, I remember when we used to use
that Sears catalogue for t.p. in the outhouse! We didn't have any o' this
soft, quilted, nice-smellin' stuff, like the kids today do their business with!
Nosiree, we had pictures o' tractors and overalls on rough newsprint! But by
gar, we didn't care! To us, it was luxury--sheer luxury, I tell ya!! Why, my
granddaddy had to use corn husks, and he said--uh, he said...goshdangit, what
was I talkin' about? Corn husks? Corn? Ahhhh, yes...creamed corn...nature's
perfect food..."
"Jedediah, did you take your pills this morning?"
...and the VVC was never heard from again.
User: Traveler's just kidding, of course
Date: 9-Dec 09:57 PM 818546349
IV.161
*Sarcasm mode on* Well, since everyone's so interested, I'll post the next
installment. *Sarcasm mode off*
But methinks we'll just rush through the rest of this tour.
User: Traveler
Date: 11-Dec 09:30 PM 818717449
IV.162
The giant cube hurtles upward through the atmosphere, Cafe in tow. Inside the
VVC, the staff and patrons cling to walls, furniture, and each other, as the
building shakes under the immense acceleration. "We must do something!" shouts
CADO.
"There's nothing we can do!" says TRAVELER.
"At least they haven't killed us," says SYLVAR. "And I don't think they will.
If they'd wanted to they could have done it already."
"Ever heard the phrase 'a fate worse than death'?" Trav says gloomily. "They
aren't going to kill us--they're going to assimilate us."
Gradually, the terrible vibration begins to die away. Out the windows they can
see that the sky is darkening, and the horizon is curved more sharply than
usual. "We're almost out of the atmosphere!" Cado says.
"It's okay--the building's airtight," Trav assures all. "Or, uh, virtually
airtight."
At last, everything is eerily quiet. The sensation of movement has all but
stopped; the stars have come out in a deep black sky, over a shining blue and
white earth. "What next?" GRAHAM says.
As if in answer to her question, everyone suddenly feels a tingling sensation.
The world begins to dissolve into sparkles of light...
...and then appears again. Except that they're some place else! "They've
beamed us on board," DARICELL says in a cautious whisper.
The VVCers stand in a large, low chamber, dimly illuminated from beneath the
floor gratings. The low rumble of machinery is omnipresent; pipes and conduits
cover the walls and ceiling. Everything appears to be made of grey metal.
Barely have the members of the group begun to mutter anxiously among
themselves, when a wide door at one end of the room slides upward. Eight
emotionless Borg soldiers troop in and surround them, without speaking a word.
But one Borg has not entered, and stands in shadow just beyond the threshold.
"Who's that?" LOUCH says, to no one in particular.
"What, you don't recognize me?" comes a cheery voice. "Shame on you! Oh, I
know, it must be the new outfit. Yes, I admit I've changed my look--but it's
marvelously coordinated with the new ship and crew. I believe accessorizing is
the key to a great look, don't you?"
The figure steps forward, and if the voice didn't give him away, the face does.
"Nowadays I like to be called LOCUTUS...but my pals call me Skippy. You may
call me...Mr. Podar..." 8)
User: Traveler
Date: 11-Dec 09:31 PM 818717498
IV.163
hard to show much interest with finals going on film boy.. :P
User: GHOST
Date: 12-Dec 00:32 AM 818728375
IV.164
Wow...and to think. I haven't logged onto this Board in MONTHS! 8)
I'm so poopular. 8)
User: Enterprise...8)
Date: 12-Dec 01:45 PM 818775943
IV.165
Hey, who's the new guy???
User: VENKMAN
Date: 13-Dec 10:43 AM 818851421
IV.166
Wow! Fresh meat!
Let me be the first to welcome you to MBBS, [ENTERPRISE]. Don't mind the
weirdos... oh, and Madame Fong is NOT REAL. She's the byproduct of some
demented mind around here. =)
User: SYLVAR
Date: 13-Dec 03:18 PM 818867933
IV.167
"Come on, now, don't try that 'Mr. Podar' stuff with us," LOUCH says. "Skippy,
what the heck's going on?"
"Oh, you know how it is...you get bored, you fly by a primitive, backwards
world, you assimilate a few hapless natives--all in a good day's fun!"
CADO frowns. "But this ship--the tractor beam--the Borg guards--it's all so
different from the last time we saw you, at the rave! What's happened?"
"Happened? Why, nothing's happened. The fame, wealth and unimaginable power
that come with being the Supreme High Training Coordinator haven't changed me a
bit, I tell you, not ONE BIT, do you hear me!? MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
TRAVELER looks skeptical. "So why the whole deal with the amusement park? It
was just a trap, wasn't it?"
"Trap? Well, now, I prefer to call it a 'demographic enhancement scheme'. You
see, it all has to do with my latest venture--but you'll find out more about
that soon. Anyway, I needed people, an audience, warm bodies, butts in seats,
ya know?"
"Couldn't you just peacefully recruit people for this--new venture--from the
attendees at Madame Fong's attractions?" Jon Vallee asks.
Skippy sighs melodramatically. "Alas and alack, woe is me! Attendance at all
Fong Enterprises attractions has decreased rapidly in recent months. Ergo, no
volunteers for my new project. They've been staying away in droves! Why, we
may have to shut down Madame Fong's Vacation Kingdom and Bargain City
altogether if business doesn't pick up!"
"Why are people suddenly staying away?" Traveler inquires.
"Actually, I think it all went wrong when we made that promotional deal with
the Florida citrus industry, just before the end of the Simpson trial. There
we were, the day of the verdict, with thousands of brand-new billboards across
the country saying 'FREE O.J.!' *sigh* Ah well, some days you get the bear,
some days the bear gets you. Whatever the heck-fire that means." 8)
"Well, are you going to tell us what this new project of yours is?" the
proprietor says, resigned.
"Oh, you'll see, you'll see. Guards, take them to the studio! I'll be in my
dressing room..."
User: Traveler
Date: 15-Dec 12:55 PM 819032166
IV.168
Time to get on with the story:
The VVCers are escorted through dark corridors until they enter a smallish
auditorium. Actually, it appears to be a TV studio--cameras, monitors, lights
and microphones are in evidence, and a control room off to the side visible
behind a large window. The stage or set at the front is concealed by a
curtain. The guards direct them to several rows of seats near the middle.
There is a scattering of other people already here, but the group from the Cafe
makes up the bulk of the audience. CADO, who is sitting just behind TRAVELER,
leans forward to talk to the proprietor. "Who are those folks a couple rows
ahead of us? They look familiar."
"Being forced to "Was it just me,
watch...something or did you guys
"Great...from being forced to else...in space." find that 'Skippy'
watch bad movies in space, to..." / / person
\ __ ~~ ^ ^ really
/ \ / ~ )###) weird?"
\ / < ] (~~\ /
-------------------------------------- =|| ------ > / --- ~~~|| --------------
/ \ /====\ /~ ~\
~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\
| | | | | | |
Suddenly, all the lights dim. Music starts playing--it sounds like a live
band, somewhere nearby. An announcer's amplified voice booms out. "And now...
the man whose nipples can cut glass...it's Skiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiippy
Podar!"
APPLAUSE signs flash, and the (literally) captive audience claps dutifully.
The curtains at the front of the auditorium come up, revealing a standard talk
show set: host's desk and a few comfortable guest chairs. The vista through
the window behind it all is a dark, starry stretch of deep space. Off to one
side, several musicians play the opening theme, rising to a crescendo as Skippy
himself bounds on to stage through sliding doors. His Borg prosthetics have
vanished, replaced by a sharp-looking suit and tie.
"Thank you, thank you, no really, thank you. You know, a funny thing happened
to me on the way to the studio tonight. Of course, a funny thing happened to
ALL of you on the way to the studio tonight. That's why you're here!
BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAhahaheheh. Heheh. Heh. Anyway, I'm glad you all could make
it. *ahem* Well, let me introduce my bandleader. Everyone, please say hello
to MOZART!"
The APPLAUSE signs flash again, but only about five people seem to be clapping.
Mozart, a.k.a. NORM[tm], turns around and makes a cursory bow toward the
audience.
"Norm[tm]!?" says DARICELL in a stage whisper. "What on earth--or off earth,
rather--are you doing here? And where have you been? The Taco Bus has been
driverless for months now!"
"I've been _here_," the driver-turned-bandleader says bitterly. "HE
assimilated me into his crew one fine day, and forced me to conduct this band
of Borg musicians. Not much for me to do, really...since they're all mentally
linked, they always keep perfect time with each other. *sigh* I suppose it's
a better use of my talents than starting the bus every day. Say, maybe there's
a song in that...'Every Day I Start the Bus'..."
"Elvis Costello would sue for plagiarism," GRAHAM interjects. "Trust me."
"Oh well."
"Hey you kids, quit bantering!" Skippy yells. "We've got a really big show to
do here! We'll be right back after this tune from MOZART and the World's Most
Collective Band!"
The band breaks into a rendition of U2's "One," as Skippy makes his way over to
the desk, and sits behind it. While the music plays, the unseen announcer
says, "The Late Show with Skippy Podar is brought to you on the Fong Network!"
"The Fong Network?" says SYLVAR.
Skippy hears him. "That's right! It's Madame Fong's latest venture, a bold
lurch into the Info-tainment Age! The Fong Network is hypermedia--combining
cable TV's hours of mindless drivel with the World Wide Web's slick, yet
overhyped point-and-click versatility! Er, at least that's what the PR
department tells me. Should I hire a new publicist, ya think?"
"Probably," says SIREN from the audience.
"Oh, by the way," Skippy continues, "everything that anyone does, says, or
thinks in this studio while we're on the air is the intellectual property of
Fongsoft, Inc. Have a nice day! 8) And we're back from commercial in
three...
two..."
The band finishes their song, and the spotlights come up on Skippy. "Well,
folx," he says, picking up a blue card from his desk, "it's time for that
most important feature of our program--today's Top Ten Top Ten Lists, from
the home office on Altair 6. This may take half an hour or so, 'cause I like
my Top Ten Lists good and long, and since Madame Fong's in the Top Ten
business, we do ten lists every day. (We get a real good rate on 'em.) Here
goes. Top Ten List Number Ten: 'Top Ten Uses For Skippy's Toe Jam.' Hmm...
the fellows back on Altair 6 are getting a little short on ideas. *sigh*
'Number Ten...'"
User: Traveler :)
Date: 27-Dec 08:22 PM 820095774
IV.169
Some time later:
"...And rounding out our number one Top Ten List--the number one reason why
Newt Gingrich is just so darn persnickety: Because every day is a bad hair
day!" MOZART's Borg drummer ends his drumroll with a cymbal crash, then the
band launches into a calypso medley of tunes from "Hair." The audience
applauds, mostly out of relief that the lists are over.
"Well, OKAY then," Skippy says. "Now for tonight's guest roster. Later on in
the program we'll be chatting with Princess Di, the Pillsbury Doughboy, and via
holographic projection from the afterlife, the late, great Lawrence Welk!
Topping it all off will be TV's LaTwanya K. Epstein--who, I maintain, was
blatantly cheated out of an Emmy for her heart-warming performance as 'Second
Female Jogger' in Episode Nine of 'Kung Fu: The Legend Continues', and who
continues to bravely battle the intestinal cancer that has given her that
unfortunate, yet catchy, nickname 'Semicolon'."
"Hey, Trav," whispers CADO. "Think we could make a break for it?"
"No good. There are guards covering all the exits," TRAVELER says sadly.
"But first," Skippy continues brightly, "a special treat--I'm going to show you
all the latest additions to my web site! Hal, could you put Netscape up on the
monitors, please?"
SYLVAR perks up. "Hey, this could be kind of cool!"
Their host moves a mouse around on his desk, controlling a cursor arrow on the
studio monitors. An elaborate web page appears, with a starfield background,
myriad exotic fonts and graphics, and seemingly endless menus.
"I've expanded my site a lot recently. Heck, it's a great substitute for
dating--gives you something to do at night, and never has bad breath or
tendonitis! Hoo boy, my last girlfriend just wouldn't shut up about her
tendonitis. Day and night, it was the same old refrain: 'Sorry, honey, but I
can't attend that State Department dinner--my tendonitis is acting up!' 'Oh,
honey, I'm not in the mood for cuddlin'--it's the tendonitis again.' 'I know I
said I'd go to the Sammy Davis Junior Festival with you, chubby-cheeks, but my
tendonitis is killing me.' Later I found out she was having an affair with the
Roto-Rooter man. Ah, well, such is love. Anyway, enough o' this hoo-hah!
Let's take an up-close and personal look at my web page on the courtship
rituals of East African Dung Beetles!" 8)
"Hush, little one.
The evil overlord "Frankly,
"I'm scared, Mike..." might hear you." this sucks."
\ __ \ ~~ ^ ^ /
/ \ / ~ )###)
\ / < ] (~~\ /
-------------------------------------- =|| ------ > / --- ~~~||--------------
/ \ /====\ /~ ~\
~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\ /~~~~~~~~\
| | | | | | |
Skippy glares. "Who said that?! Gosh-gummit, after all the blood, sweat and
tears I put into these web pages, slaving over a hot monitor! Why, there are
little children in China who don't even have graphical web browsers! What's
happened to gratitude these days?" He stabs a button on his desk. Clamps
slide out of the chairs in the studio, shackling the audience members' arms and
legs into place. "Oh, you WILL enjoy yourself. I'll make sure of that!
"Now, here's an exhaustive chronology of Liz Taylor's cosmetic surgical
procedures, cross-referenced to Michael Jackson's. As I'll be showing you, the
links to NASA's Sunspot Web Site prove that both entertainer's facelifts
correspond eerily to periods of peak solar activity! Let's learn more..."
User: Late Night with Trav Traveler
Date: 29-Dec 11:06 PM 820278453
IV.170
Much, MUCH later:
"...and if you click on Mr. Warthog's nose, it connects you to this great site
I found at the University of Mongolia. Can't understand a dadblamed bit of it,
but it sure looks impressive, don't it? Them Mongolians are real smart
people."
"Did I say this would be cool?" SYLVAR says weakly. "Color me stupid. I
was wrong, terribly wrong."
"Now you more observant members of the audience will have noticed this
little waffle icon on many of my pages. That indicates a link to the 'St.
Jujube of Saskatchewan' Web Site. Of course, Saint Jujube's picture was said
to have miraculously appeared on a box of waffles to a housewife in Tijuana.
Actually, it was Aunt Jemima's picture, but no one realized this till much
later."
"Oh, God, someone please make him stop!" CADO moans under his breath.
"Well, well, well, well, well...I do believe it's time for a commercial." The
audience breathes a great collective sigh of relief. "We'll be back right
after this..." MOZART leads his band in a kazoo rendition of "Bridge Over
Troubled Waters," while Skippy confers for a moment with one of the Borg
production assistants. Then the host steps out from behind his desk. "I told
you we'd have a commercial break coming up. Actually, it's an infomercial--
the next segment of our program. Ladies and gents, I'm proud to be your host
today for 'Podar's Wide, Wacky World of Wonderful Stuff'!"
"I think this is a good time for all of us to read an informative pamphlet
on euthanasia I happen to have with me," Sylvar says quietly. "If someone
could just reach into my left front pocket..."
An assistant in a sequined evening gown brings Skippy a canister of some sort.
"Here, my friends, is some especially wonderful stuff I want you all to know
about. Ever eaten a big bean dinner and later found yourself troubled by,
well, certain gaseous aftereffects? Sure, we all have. That's why Madame Fong
Laboratories spent six years and millions of dollars researching tonight's
featured product: 'Fresh Wind', the Flatulence Deodorizer! Its patented
time-release micro-beads turn one person's 'breaking wind' into a pleasant
experience for the whole room, by giving your 'gas' a clean, natural fragrance.
Now available in three great scents: Mountain Meadow, Lemony Pine, and the
ever-popular Musk. Now, how much would you expect to pay for a twelve-ounce
can of 'Fresh Wind'? Seventy dollars? Sixty dollars? Well, hold your
horses, folks, 'cause tonight I'm lettin' you have it for just nineteen
ninety-five! That's right, half a year's supply for less than twenty dollars!
But wait, there's more!"
As Skippy drones on, many members of the audience appear to be entering a
catatonic stupor. Some sway mindlessly back and forth in their seats, while
others drool and mutter to themselves. Finally Skippy breaks off. "Hey ...am
I losin' you guys?" He steps forward and takes a closer look.
"Skippy," whispers TRAVELER, his eyes unfocused, "you've had us in this studio
for seventeen hours, reading us top ten lists, showing us web pages, and
selling us Madame Fong products. We appreciate your enthusiasm...but in the
name of decency, man, there comes a breaking point! How much more of this do
you expect us to take?"
Skippy's lower lip sticks out, trembling. "You...you don't like my show?
I fail to please you?" His chest begins heaving. "Dammit, I JUST WANT TO
BE LOVED! IS THAT SO WRONG!?" He begins bawling loudly, and tosses one of
his index cards over his shoulder. It breaks through a pane in the large
window behind his desk, and suddenly all the air is rushing out of the studio.
One of the Borg assistants is almost sucked through, but two others pull him
back in and seal the hole with some kind of quick-hardening foam.
Skippy has stopped crying--in fact he seems to have completely forgotten that
he was upset a few moments ago. "I gotta do something about that window. I
lose more production assistants that way...tsk tsk tsk. Ah well. Now, what
were we talking about?"
DARICELL speaks up. "About letting us go. Your material's great--well, most
of it--but you can't just go around abducting people to be in your audience,
you know."
"I can't?" 8(
"No, 'fraid not," says Siren. "But let me let you in on a secret: start
announcing that 'tickets are only available to a select few, and reservations
must be made three months in advance of taping,' and you'll have people lining
up for blocks. Trust me--the harder something is to get, the more people want
it."
"Hmm, you may have a point there. Maybe I'm too accessible. I must be more
aloof. How's this: 'I vant to be alone'!" Skippy strikes a haughty pose.
"Bravo!" says Cado. "Now, uh, could you release these clamps?"
Their host obligingly pushes the release button on his desk, and the audience
members are soon rubbing their limbs to restore circulation. "Guess I'll be
sending you on your way," he says. "But you'll all get free t-shirts for being
a part of the Skippy Podar experience! And, well, I guess it wouldn't be
beneath my new, improved, aloof demeanor to sign a few autographs."
Soon the VVCers have made their goodbyes, and are beamed back over to the Cafe,
all wearing t-shirts bearing Skippy's picture and signature. The giant cube
releases its tractor-beam hold on the building, and zooms away into the depths
of space. Somehow, the sound of a last "beep-beep" reaches them through the
vacuum.
"Well, it's good to be back," says GRAHAM. "I guess that was...interesting."
"That it was," says Sylvar. "But, you know, something's just occurred to me.
Take a look at my laptop." He shows the others a diagram on the screen of his
computer. "Skippy just left us floating here in space! I've calculated our
trajectory."
"And?" asks Trav.
"We're in a rapidly decaying orbit. Looks like we'll plunge into the
atmosphere within an hour...moving very, very fast..."
TO BE CONTINUED...ELSEWHERE...
User: Traveler
Date: 30-Dec 08:57 PM 820357089
IV.171
the suspense builds....
User: ECSTASY
Date: 31-Dec 02:52 AM 820378341
IV.172
GOTO Board 1
User: Traveler
Date: 2-Jan 08:00 PM 820612821
IV.173
hasn't anyone taught you GOTO's are bad programming?
:)
User: GHOST
Date: 3-Jan 09:24 AM 820661072
IV.174
Well, so was Twin Peaks, but he hasn't figured that out either.....
8)
User: VENKMAN
Date: 3-Jan 01:19 PM 820675189
IV.175
Laugh while you can, monkey boy. Guess whose board the VVC visits next?
:)
User: Traveler
Date: 3-Jan 11:47 PM 820712825
IV.176
<>
Guess who's dropping in for a visit? :)
As the VVC re-enters the atmosphere, the silence of the vacuum outside gives
way to a faint rushing. The vista of stars, and of the curved planet spread
out beneath them, begins to fade behind a dim orange glow. TRAVELER stands at
one of the White Room's large windows, shaking his head sadly. "This is it,
then. In a few minutes we'll burn up. Anyone on the ground should see a
spectacular meteor...and then we're nothing but ash in the stratosphere.
*sigh* It's been a long, strange trip...too bad it had to end this way...guess
I'll fix myself a last drink or seven..."
Jon Vallee is sitting at a table nearby, and calmly reaches out a hand to stop
Traveler on his way to the bar. "Um, we're not going to burn up. Though don't
let me keep you from getting drunk if you want to..."
"Of course we're going to burn up! We have no counter-thrust to--"
"Think, man. What did the Apollo astronauts have to protect them during
re-entry?"
"They had a heat shield! Which we..."
"Which we have also! When we left Board Six, we brought with us the
outcropping of dirt and rock beneath the Cafe. It'll serve admirably as a heat
shield--though I wouldn't suggest hanging out in the Cellar just now, as it may
get a little warm."
"Well...okay...but we have nothing to slow us down! You know what kind of
crater we'll leave when we hit the ground?"
"Remember what else the Apollo capsules had: drag chutes. Our balloon wasn't
really designed for it, but if my calculations are right, it'll do the job."
"It'll slow us down enough to prevent a catastrophic impact?"
"If we land in water, we should be okay," SYLVAR says.
"That's a big if." Traveler shakes his head. "I'll warn everyone to prepare."
The re-entry is harrowing, with a shrieking, fiery wind enveloping the building
and rattling it almost to pieces. But the heat shield works; and the balloon
is deployed on schedule, slowing their descent with a rough jolt. As luck has
it, they are indeed over water. Moments later, the VVC splashes down, into a
sea that stretches to all horizons.
* * *
The staff and patrons of the Cafe venture out on to the "south" terrace, above
GRAHAM's Cinema. A few even don swimsuits and soak in the hot tub; others just
lie back on chaise lounges and take in the sun. But Trav, Sylvar and CADO are
up in the Ivory Tower. Cado checks his watch; the numeral "1" is flashing on
the board locator dial. "So this is Board One...not much to see, yet." He
opens the MBBS Atlas and flips to the appropriate map. "Only one land mass to
speak of--Belgarath's Isle."
"Uh-oh...why do I hear the theme song to a bad 60's sitcom in my head?" the
proprietor says.
(**Op note: this would be an interesting parody, if anyone wants to try it!**)
Cado looks at his watch again. "Our coordinates put us..." He looks back at
the map. "...not far at all from the island. It's due north of us."
Jon has been peering out the window. "The breeze seems to be pushing us in
that direction."
"So do the currents and tides, according to the map," Traveler says, looking
over Cado's shoulder. "Almost too perfect."
"Hey, relax, boss," Cado says. "The climate's good, the natives are supposed
to be friendly...it should be a nice, relaxing visit."
"I just want to know why this board is called 'General Disaster'."
But despite Traveler's fears, the short journey to the island (a three-hour
tour, to be exact) passes without incident. DARICELL, taking a turn in the
Ivory Tower as lookout, calls out "Land ho!"; soon after this, they drop anchor
just offshore. "It looked like there was a small village up the beach," the
Dark Lady says. "Maybe we'll have new customers!"
It's a short, shallow wade to land. An exploration party consisting of
Traveler, GRAHAM, Cado, Daricell and Sylvar establish contact with the
villagers, who seem happy to have visitors. No one seems to know the
whereabouts of the island's leader, however. "The Great Wolf?" an old man says
to Graham. "We don't see much of him these days. Who knows, maybe he'll show
up while you're here. Heheheh. Things are always...interesting...when he's
around."
Graham relates these words to Trav as they stroll through the village. "I
can't help thinking of the old Chinese curse," he says. "'May you live in
interesting times'."
User: Traveler: Re-entry Remix
Date: 31-Dec 04:32 PM 820427566
IV.177
When the VVC visitors return from the village, they see that the tide has gone
out. They can now walk right to the Cafe, anchored at the end of a sandbar,
without even getting their feet wet. A few villagers have accompanied them,
and hostess LOUCH shows the newcomers around. "TRAVELER would like you to
order whatever you like--it's on the house," she says to the group.
Soon a few native fishermen are sampling the seafood dishes up in the Atlantis
Room, while other folk are at Jon Vallee's coffee bar, trying his variety of
caffeinated drinks. "This is a potion of great power," an old woman says
solemnly, sipping a mug of hot black java.
"You got that right, ma'am," SYLVAR says. "I usually brew it at twice the--"
A tremor sends coffee cups rattling. "What the--?" Another jolt hits, and
another, spilling patrons from their chairs.
"EARTHQUAKE!" someone shouts. Those not already on the floor dive for cover
beneath tables and in doorways. The building continues to shake. Picture
frames crash to the floor and windowpanes burst. The old woman spills her
coffee down the front of her robe, and screeches as the scalding liquid soaks
in. At last, after almost half a minute, the quake ends.
Jon rushes to the old woman's aid with napkins, then joins the rest of the
staff in helping pick up. Traveler, overseeing cleanup, comes by to talk to
him. "The natives say earthquakes are fairly frequent in this area. Guess we
found out the hard way."
"Oh well," the coffee man says, "no big deal. Not much damage, and no serious
injuries. It's the only flaw in an otherwise perfect day."
Just then, the power goes out. Traveler sighs. "You were saying?"
"Come on...let's check the circuit box."
The circuit box is in the windowless Black Room, so flashlights are needed.
Soon after opening the grey metal cover panel, Trav recognizes the problem.
"Umm, we're missing the chip that controls the whole power system."
"Missing? How is that possible?"
"I guess someone took it. Do we have a spare?"
"Yeah, I think I've got one in the Blue Room. Hold on..." Jon fetches the
replacement chip, Traveler pops it in, and soon things are humming again.
* * *
CADO and DARICELL have wandered out to the "north" terrace during the power
outage, to escape the building's gloom, and now are sitting at a table in the
shade of the Ivory Tower, talking. "I saw something rather odd when we were
walking back from the village," Daricell says to the bouncer. "Haven't had a
chance to tell anyone yet, with the quake and the blackout. But I saw this
huge grey wolf, standing at the edge of the trees."
"What was it doing?"
"Just watching us. And I know I'm anthropomorphizing, but I'd swear it was
sort of laughing at us."
"Hmm. WHOA!" Cado stands up with a start, pointing to something behind
Daricell. "Look!"
The chef stands and looks. A plume of smoke and fire has erupted into the sky
from the top of the island's highest mountain. A moment later the sound
reaches them, like distant thunder. "A volcano," Daricell chuckles. "Just
wait till we tell Trav about _this_."
They find the Cafe's proprietor in his office, but a man in a cheap suit has
arrived just before them. "You run this place?" he says unceremoniously to
Traveler. "My name is Jacob Dewey, of Dewey, Cheatham and Howe, Personal
Injury Attorneys. I represent an elderly lady who was a customer at your
establishment earlier today. She alleges that your coffee was heated to an
unsafe temperature, and that it did grievous damage to her when spilled." The
man slaps a stack of papers down on to the desk of the bewildered Traveler.
"We're suing your butt for ten million dollars."
User: Traveler
Date: 2-Jan 00:36 AM 820543010
IV.178
this is starting to sound like Leisure Suit Larry and the Pursuit of the
Pulsating Pectorals...
;>
User: ECSTASY
Date: 2-Jan 03:10 PM 820595452
IV.179
"It's slime like that who give the profession a bad name," GRAHAM says between
gritted teeth. She, DARICELL and TRAVELER are playing hearts in the Red Room.
"I saw him walking along the beach, asking questions of the locals as they left
the Cafe. He must have showed up just after the earthquake, looking for
potential clients."
Trav gestures to the distant erupting peak visible through the window. "He
says our building should have been more quake-proof, and our coffee heated to a
lower temperature. Think they can sue us for not being volcano-proofed?"
"Depends on local ordinances. I hope not."
"Speaking of being volcano-proofed, do you think the eruption'll do us any
damage?" Daricell says.
"I doubt it. CADO said it's several miles away, and the terrain should keep
the lava flowing away from us. We might get a dusting of ash, but
otherwise..." He sniffs the air. "Uh, do either of you smell something
burning?"
"Maybe I left something in the oven too long, but I doubt it," the Chef Lady
says. At that moment, the smoke alarms go off...
The building is quickly evacuated. The tide has started to come in, so staff
and patrons must wade through the surf to find a dry place to stand. Smoke is
pouring from the top of the VVC; the plume is rising to join the pall that the
volcano has spread over the whole sky.
Since the island has no fire department, Traveler, Cado and SYLVAR are still in
the building, armed with extinguishers and wearing oxygen masks. Before long,
they locate the blaze: it's at the base of the Ivory Tower, and spreading
upward quickly. They're able to put it out, but the Tower suffers a fair
amount of burn and smoke damage.
"It must have been started by cinders from the volcano," Jon says, wiping the
grime off his face with a towel procured from the Towel Room. "I guess we
weren't volcano-proofed after all. But the fire is out, and everyone's okay."
Then the lights go out, and the fans and the air conditioning system, busy
pumping smoke out and fresh air in, go offline.
Sylvar hisses. "My much-vaunted pacifism is being sorely tested. I feel the
urge to be severely destructive to whatever fates or deities are having their
fun with us..."
:)
User: Traveler: Murphy's Law Mix
Date: 2-Jan 07:54 PM 820612480
IV.180
mmmm...storylines involving card playing and coffee.
:)
User: GRAHAM
Date: 3-Jan 08:55 PM 820702510
IV.181
It turns out that the replacement power chip has also been stolen. The coffee
man quickly leaves for parts unknown, returning in less than half an hour with
another chip. "Jon, this is a pretty weird design," Traveler says. "What are
these strange markings?"
"Just _don't_ask_. I'll get it to talk to our system, don't you worry."
The lights are back on within minutes. The Virtual Vax Cafe's proprietor is
sitting in his office, reading the recently served lawsuit papers, when another
visitor knocks on the door. "Come i--"
"Mr. Traveler! Mind if I call you Trav? Thanks. Bill Bland, of CYA
Insurance? Call me Bill. You all have a policy with us, glad to have you on
board, of course. Just wanted to let you know that effective immediately, your
rates are going up three hundred percent."
"WHAT?"
"Yessir, seems you guys have relocated to a rather risky area here, Belgarath's
Isle. The actuarial tables for this place do not look good, nope, so we had to
hike your premium a wee bit! It just so happens your Cafe is sitting in the
middle of a high entropy zone, you see. Not the best choice in locations, if I
may say so, but I'm no marketing man, so what do I know? I'll just leave the
new rate agreement here and be on my merry way, hey? Nice talkin' to ya!"
Traveler puts his head down on his desk and moans for several minutes. But his
wallow in misery is interrupted by shouts coming from outside. He looks out
his office window, and sees a sleek flying saucer parked on the nearby beach.
Two tall, purple beings, each about seven feet tall and with four arms, are
arguing loudly with Jon Vallee. Trav heads out to see what's going on.
"Okay, who did we piss off this time?" he asks Jon.
"Um, remember that replacement power chip. Heheh...well, I 'borrowed' it from
these good folks..."
"Fvqrwoiuzcvn!! Nscopui bvscoph wou!!" one of the aliens demands.
"Can you understand their language?" Trav asks.
"I'm picking it up. Good thing I've been taking linguistics courses."
"Okay, translate this: 'Skippy Podar will pay for a new chip, and throw in
free tickets to his show.'"
"Pweroibd Skippy Podar cbndsooiub weret vycuio-vycuio, cqwe roxm jhp oase."
"Yyyyyrbbt! Skippy Podar!" The aliens make what appear to be the equivalent
of broad smiles, and waddle happily back to their ship. Seconds later, it
takes off and flies away.
"I figure he owes a favor or two," Traveler says. "Now, I've had just about
enough of this place. Let's gas up the balloon and get the heck out of Dodge!"
As they turn to wade back to the Cafe, the proprietor notices a lone wolf
lurking up the beach. _What an expression on his face...I'd almost call it a
mischievous leer..._
* * * *
Soon the balloon is swelling atop the building. It's just past half-full when
GRAHAM rushes into the Greenhouse. "Trav, DL and I just heard an emergency
bulletin on the radio, whilst looking for a station that plays Elvis Costello.
There's a large tsunami heading this way, due to hit shore in four minutes!"
Traveler turns to Cado. "How close are we to liftoff?"
Cado checks his watch. "Uh-oh...we need another five minutes. We're not gonna
clear this wave!"
"Never fear," says Jon, coming in the door with a large silver tank under one
arm. "I've brought an extra hot air source--I'll go rig it up now." As he
darts back out, they notice the tank is labeled "ROW_H-I."
It does the trick--the VVC's balloon is full enough to lift them skyward before
the huge wall of water comes crashing ashore. High in the air, Trav flips
through the MBBS Atlas and chuckles dryly. "General Disaster, indeed..."
User: Traveler: "A Three Hour Tour" Version
Date: 3-Jan 11:39 PM 820712388
IV.182
*applauds*
(but I must say that I _do_ listen to a little music other than elvis
costello...i have over 200 cds, and only 12-15 of them are elvis....)
:)
User: GRAHAM
Date: 6-Jan 02:50 PM 820939832
IV.183
True.
But I freely admit that the characterizations I write in the VVC are extremely
shallow.
:)
As long as this stuff is remotely entertaining...
Incidentally, look for the grand finale at the end of the month. The Cafe
will return to Board 6...it will be...interesting...
User: Traveler
Date: 7-Jan 12:54 PM 821019253
IV.184
<>
Hi-ho! :)
It's a glorious day above the cloudtops, as the Virtual Vax Cafe continues its
journey. Glorious, that is, until GRAHAM, doing lookout duty in the Ivory
Tower, spots a dark cloud mass directly ahead of them. She phones down to
TRAVELER in the Greenhouse. "As the building turns, you should be able to see
it from there...it's below our altitude. Almost looks like--a whirlpool."
The wind picks up, carrying them over the vast, menacing maw of the formation.
Lightning can be seen flickering within the swirling cloudbanks below. In the
Blue Room, SYLVAR pages through a meteorological web site, looking for
information. "It looks like some kind of cyclonic storm," he says to CADO, who
stands beside him. "Could be serious trouble if we got caught in it, but I
think the crosswinds will carry us safely ov--"
The VVC lurches downward suddenly, and tilts to the side. Cado grabs on to the
carrel to keep from falling; the sound of spilled cups, plates and silverware
clatters from the White Room and the Kitchen. "What's happening??" the
bouncer-cum-navigator shouts.
Leaning to stay in his chair, Jon adjusts the swivel base of his monitor so
that it is upright, though the whole building is still leaning. His stomach
regtisters a distinct sensation of falling. Nervously, he maneuvers the mouse,
jumping to a page on WIND TYPES, then selecting DOWNDRAFTS. "Uh...this doesn't
look good. We seem to be trapped in a textbook case of wind sheaAAAARRRRRR!!!"
The Cafe goes spinning wildly down into the storm, pitching back and forth,
like a hanging birdhouse in a hurricane....Minutes that seem like hours pass,
of sickening, whirling motion. They seem to be trapped in a narrow grey funnel
of cloud. Then it ends with a skull-rattling CRASH. The roaring wind dies
away.
The staff and patrons emerge now from the various nooks and crannies in which
they rode out the storm. They gather, shaken, in the White Room, to assess the
damage. No one, thankfully, has more than a few bruises; the building has
sustained some broken windows, but apparently no worse damage. "But we won't
know till we look from outside," says LOUCH. "Let's check."
They emerge from the front door, into a strange world. The landscape of a
small village surrounds them, but the buildings, the roads, even the vegetation
looks unreal. Everything is unnaturally neat, and done in glowing Technicolor.
"It's like a movie set," Traveler says, "or virtual reality."
"Bad news," Sylvar says. "Looks like our balloon was torn completely off
during the storm."
"More bad news," DARICELL calls from around the corner of the building. "Come
look at this, guys." They run around to the back of the Red Room, where the
Dark Lady is pointing to a pair of feet, sticking out from under the building.
"Oh dear," says the proprietor.
Suddenly they realize they have been silently surrounded by strange, short
people wearing blue vests. Sylvar frowns at them. "Munchkins? Or freshmen?"
"We're the Trainee-Ops, and this is our village!" one of them pipes. "And you
just killed our ruler, the Evil Snow Queen!"
"Uh...heheh...sorry...so sorry," Trav stammers. "There was this cyclone..."
"That's no excuse," the Trainee-Op says sternly. "You killed her, and there's
only one thing we can do now..."
"*gulp* Which is?"
"CELEBRATE!!! WOO-HOO!!" The whole village of Trainee-Ops begins cheering
wildly. The strange, short, blue-vested people rush forward happily and engulf
the VVCers.
"Hey, hey, hey," Traveler says. "We're glad we could do you the favor. But
could you do us one in return?"
The Trainee-Ops quiet down, and their spokesman says, "Name it."
"We need to replace our balloon somehow. Can you help us?"
"Hmm." The Trainee-Op turns and confers with some of his comrades. Then he
turns back to Trav. "What you need to do is go to the Wizard!"
"The Wizard?"
"The Wizard of Venk!"
User: Traveler: Bork Bork Bjork Mix
Date: 4-Jan 06:16 PM 820779436
IV.185
"The Wizard of Venk?" Cado groans. "You're kidding, right?"
"Nope. He actually runs this whole board, from the Emerald Computer Lab.
That's a long and perilous journey from here. But before you go, you're
welcome to take HER shoes." He crouches at the feet of the Wicked Snow Queen,
clad in beige spike heels, and removes the shoes. "She used them to magically
travel to any computer lab in her domain--that's how she checked up on her
subjects."
Daricell takes the shoes and looks them over. "Hmm...not quite my size, or my
style..."
"Oh, and before you set off, we'd like to do this musical number for you.
Guys, gals? A one, two, three, four..."
The whole assembly of villagers starts singing. "We represent the Trainee-Op
guild, the Trainee-Op guild, the Trainee-Op guild..."
* * *
Meanwhile, the aforementioned Wizard of Venk is watching all of this on his
monitor, in the heart of the Emerald Computer Lab. "Oh God, I hate it when
those Trainees start singing. Almost makes me wish I hadn't downloaded this Oz
module in the first place. Let's see, where's the cheat code for turning off
audio?" He digs out a dogeared manual. "And while I'm at it, I'm gonna skip
all the yada-yada about them meeting the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion,
and journeying here." He punches a few keys.
In the blink of an eye, the VVC group find that the Trainee-Ops and their
village have disappeared. The Cafe is still behind them, but now they and the
building are sitting next to a towering green building. "The Emerald Computer
Lab, I presume?" GRAHAM says.
"I guess so," says TRAVELER. "I'm not sure how we got here, but let's go in."
The Cafe group enters through a set of tall, imposing doors, and walks down a
seemingly endless hallway, their footsteps echoing. At last they reach another
set of doors. Inside is a dark, high-ceilinged chamber, with a mysterious,
smoking altar at the far end.
A giant, ghostly head appears, bearing the familiar face of VENKMAN. "I AM THE
GREAT AND POWERFUL VENK!! STATE YOUR PURPOSE IN COMING HERE!"
"Well, uh, we're looking for a balloon, actually," says Trav.
"YOU DON'T HAVE A QUESTION ABOUT COMPUTERS?"
"Well...no."
"YOU'RE NOT HAVING TROUBLE RUNNING WINDOWS?"
"No."
"YOUR PRINTER ISN'T JAMMED, AND THE PAPER'S NOT MISALIGNED?"
"Nope."
"YOU'RE NOT LOOKING FOR THE ANY KEY? HAVING TROUBLE WITH YOUR CGS
ASSIGNMENT? TRYING TO TYPE A TERM PAPER, BUT YOU'VE NEVER TOUCHED A COMPUTER
IN YOUR LIFE AND WANT ME TO TEACH YOU HOW TO USE WORDPERFECT??"
"None of the above."
"HMMM. SEEMS LIKE THOSE ARE THE ONLY QUESTIONS I GET ASKED THESE DAYS."
Graham taps Traveler on the shoulder. He turns, and she whispers in his ear:
"Look behind us, in the corner." He looks, and sees the back of someone at a
counter, wearing a blue vest and apparently doing something with a computer.
"PAY NO ATTENTION TO THE MAN AT THE OP STATION!" booms the apparition in front
of them.
"Hey, this is a scam," CADO says, noticing the person at the computer. He
leads the group over to the counter, and they find Venkman feverishly pecking
at his keyboard and glaring at his monitor. After a moment, he notices them.
"D'OH!"
"Come on, Venk, what is all this?" Cado asks.
"It's a new module of DOOM[tm] based on the Wizard of Oz! And I had sucked you
and your little Cafe into it, and was having great fun, until you came over
here and ruined the whole thing!"
"But...if we're inside the game, why are you here playing it?"
"Oh, it's one of those infinite recursion thingies. See?" He tilts the
monitor so they can see. There on the screen they see themselves and Venkman,
looking at a monitor, which contains a smaller image of the same scene, which
contains an even smaller image of it, and so on. "I must have installed it
wrong. Dang goto loops..."
"So what about getting a balloon? Will you help us or not?" Traveler says.
"Wellll...the Oz module includes a hot-air balloon...it's how the Wizard was
supposed to have gotten here. It's in one of my storerooms. But why should I
let YOU have it? I brought you all here for my amusement!"
Traveler sighs. "Name a price."
"Heheheheh. Tell you what--I'll let you all have the balloon. But you have to
leave the Cafe here!" He grins evilly. "I can think of so many interesting
ways to destroy it. How sweet it would be to send a virtual 747 crashing into
the VVC..."
User: Traveler
Date: 5-Jan 06:30 PM 820866661
IV.186
As the VVCers stand before VENKMAN's op station, the doors of the room are
thrown open. A tall woman with cold blue eyes and a long nose walks in in her
stocking feet.
Venkman pales. "The Evil Snow Queen!"
"You're not playing a game at an op station, are you?" she says. "Strictly
against policy."
"We...we thought you were dead," DARICELL says.
"Hardly. Give me those," she snaps, and snatches back her shoes. "Now, who
should I discipline first? Venkie Boy here is using computer resources
improperly. But then you lot dropped a cafe on me!"
"Deal with him first," TRAVELER says. "He caused this whole mess in the first
place."
"I think I will. But the rest of you, stay where you are! Now..." She
strides over to Venkman.
"Run away!" says Trav. The Cafe group dashes for the door, and escapes before
the Snow Queen can react. They run down the long hall, the Queen's screams
echoing after them. "We've got to find that balloon!" Traveler shouts. "It's
supposed to be in one of the storerooms..."
"Through here!" CADO says, pointing to a small side doorway. They enter,
finding themselves in a dark labyrinth of narrow corridors. Before they've
gone far, they stumble on a pile of shotguns. "I suggest everyone arm
themselves," the bouncer says. "This place looks all too familiar..."
The members of the group each take a gun. Hardly have they done so, when they
hear an inhuman shrieking. A horde of winged monkeys appears, running toward
them from a nearby corridor. "Just like Venk said--an Oz module of DOOM[tm]!"
GRAHAM says grimly. "Well, let's play, then." She raises her gun and fires
into the crowd of monkeys. The blast almost knocks her down, but it also fells
several of the foe.
"Let's head this way!" says SYLVAR, leading them down another hallway. The
rear members of the group keep firing at the monkeys, while those in front
check the rooms they pass for the rumored balloon.
Soon they find the balloon; it takes Jon, Trav and Cado to lift the shapeless
bundle of folded fabric. They run as fast as they can back toward the maze's
entrance, while the others keep the monkeys at bay.
Just as the ammo is almost all gone, they find the way out. Down the long
entrance hallway, the Snow Queen is still yelling at Venkman, but she comes
stalking after them when she sees them. "HEY! Get back here!"
The VVCers manage to get back to the Cafe well ahead of her, and are already
hooking up the new balloon when she emerges from the Emerald Computer Lab.
"You people aren't going anywhere! You've racked up a list of violations as
long as my arm--running in the lab, using firearms, stealing that balloon...and
have any of you paid the new twenty-dollar fee yet? I doubt it!"
Traveler looks down from the "south" terrace, gritting his teeth as the Snow
Queen rants and raves. Finally he can stand it no longer. "LOOK!! I think
all of us have had just about enough of your petty rules and regulations, your
military attitude, the way you lord it over the users and your minimum-wage
employees alike, and the way you've managed to turn your computer labs from
places where people used to feel at home into places where everyone feels
uncomfortable and underserved!" He seizes a nearby bucket, dips it into the
hot tub at the center of the terrace, and stalks back to the edge of the
terrace. "Take THAT!!" He douses her with the water.
The Snow Queen lets out a shrill cry. "I'm MELTING! I'm meltinnngggggg..."
It trails off into a gurgle as she begins to dissolve, like a snowball in the
sun. Soon only a few large chunks of ice are left, floating in a puddle with
her clothes.
"Oh MY," says Graham.
"That was interesting," says Jon Vallee. "But we'd better get this balloon
inflated and get out of here, before Venk gives us more trouble."
Soon the burner is lit, and the wrinkled mass of cloth grows into a sphere.
The Virtual Vax Cafe lifts into the sky, leaving Board Nine behind...
User: Traveler enjoyed writing that. :)
Date: 9-Jan 01:21 AM 821150595
IV.187
Mileage may vary.
Void where prohibited.
Some restrictions apply.
Check local listings.
Must be 18 years of age or older.
User: Traveler just wanted to warn you
Date: 10-Jan 11:50 PM 821317852
IV.188
Okay, if you haven't logged on in a while and are totally confused about the
chronology, proceed from this story to Board 4.
User: Traveler
Date: 10-Jan 12:30 PM 821277036
IV.189
As the VVCers stand before VENKMAN's op station, the doors of the room are
thrown open. A tall woman with cold blue eyes and a long nose walks in in her
stocking feet.
Venkman pales. "The Evil Snow Queen!"
"You're not playing a game at an op station, are you?" she says. "Strictly
against policy."
"We...we thought you were dead," DARICELL says.
"Hardly. Give me those," she snaps, and snatches back her shoes. "Now, who
should I discipline first? Venkie Boy here is using computer resources
improperly. But then you lot dropped a cafe on me!"
"Deal with him first," TRAVELER says. "He caused this whole mess in the first
place."
"I think I will. But the rest of you, stay where you are! Now..." She
strides over to Venkman.
"Run away!" says Trav. The Cafe group dashes for the door, and escapes before
the Snow Queen can react. They run down the long hall, the Queen's screams
echoing after them. "We've got to find that balloon!" Traveler shouts. "It's
supposed to be in one of the storerooms..."
"Through here!" CADO says, pointing to a small side doorway. They enter,
finding themselves in a dark labyrinth of narrow corridors. Before they've
gone far, they stumble on a pile of shotguns. "I suggest everyone arm
themselves," the bouncer says. "This place looks all too familiar..."
The members of the group each take a gun. Hardly have they done so, when they
hear an inhuman shrieking. A horde of winged monkeys appears, running toward
them from a nearby corridor. "Just like Venk said--an Oz module of DOOM[tm]!"
GRAHAM says grimly. "Well, let's play, then." She raises her gun and fires
into the crowd of monkeys. The blast almost knocks her down, but it also fells
several of the foe.
"Let's head this way!" says SYLVAR, leading them down another hallway. The
rear members of the group keep firing at the monkeys, while those in front
check the rooms they pass for the rumored balloon.
Soon they find the balloon; it takes Jon, Trav and Cado to lift the shapeless
bundle of folded fabric. They run as fast as they can back toward the maze's
entrance, while the others keep the monkeys at bay.
Just as the ammo is almost all gone, they find the way out. Down the long
entrance hallway, the Snow Queen is still yelling at Venkman, but she comes
stalking after them when she sees them. "HEY! Get back here!"
The VVCers manage to get back to the Cafe well ahead of her, and are already
hooking up the new balloon when she emerges from the Emerald Computer Lab.
"You people aren't going anywhere! You've racked up a list of violations as
long as my arm--running in the lab, using firearms, stealing that balloon...and
have any of you paid the new twenty-dollar fee yet? I doubt it!"
Traveler looks down from the "south" terrace, gritting his teeth as the Snow
Queen rants and raves. Finally he can stand it no longer. "LOOK!! I think
all of us have had just about enough of your petty rules and regulations, your
military attitude, the way you lord it over the users and your minimum-wage
employees alike, and the way you've managed to turn your computer labs from
places where people used to feel at home into places where everyone feels
uncomfortable and underserved!" He seizes a nearby bucket, dips it into the
hot tub at the center of the terrace, and stalks back to the edge of the
terrace. "Take THAT!!" He douses her with the water.
The Snow Queen lets out a shrill cry. "I'm MELTING! I'm meltinnngggggg..."
It trails off into a gurgle as she begins to dissolve, like a snowball in the
sun. Soon only a few large chunks of ice are left, floating in a puddle with
her clothes.
"Oh MY," says Graham.
"That was interesting," says Jon Vallee. "But we'd better get this balloon
inflated and get out of here, before Venk gives us more trouble."
Soon the burner is lit, and the wrinkled mass of cloth grows into a sphere.
The Virtual Vax Cafe lifts into the sky, leaving Board Nine behind....after
a few minutes, however, the passengers notice Board Nine is getting closer,
rather than further away. Traveler realizes the fuel supply is empty.
"We're out of fuel!" cries Traveler. "We're going down!"
The balloon is descending more rapidly now. Unless someone does something
quickly, everyone will surely die.
"We need to get rid of any extra weight!" yells Cado.
"But what can we get rid of?" says Traveler. "All we have in this balloon is
us, our clothes, and 800 pounds of VVC manuscripts."
"So start bailing the manuscripts!" screams Cado, as he grabs a handful of
papers and tosses them overboard.
"Nooooooooooooooo!!!" cries Traveler. "I'll sacrifice myself, but you must
save the VVC!" Traveler jumps over the side of the balloon and begins
accelerating at a rate of 32 ft/sec^2. He hits the ground 5.29314 seconds
later with a resounding *THUD*. Back in the balloon, Cado is still tossing
the VVC manuscripts over the side.
"Hey," says Graham, "why are you still tossing those overboard? Traveler
scrificed himself not just for us, but for the VVC."
"VVC my ass!" says Cado. "And besides, we're still falling too fast." With
that, he mightily lifts the last remaining bundle of manuscripts and heaves
them over the side of the balloon. On the ground, Traveler, who is
miraculously still alive, looks up just in time to be hit in the face by the
200-pound bundle of paper. He, of course, dies instantly.
Back in the balloon, Cado is in a bit of a panic. "We're still falling too
fast!" he shrieks. "Must get rid of more weight!" He then proceeds to
lift up all the passengers in succession and dump them over the side.
After he does this, the balloon slows to a safe speed and lands safely, if
not gently, on the ground. Cado regains his composure and realizes what
he has done and sets out to search for the bodies of his companions, to see
if any of them might still be alive, but he finds that they have all been
eaten by bears, and so he heads for the nearest 7-11 to buy a Slurpee(tm)...
User: Traveler enjoyed writing that. :)
Date: 9-Jan 01:21 AM 821150595
IV.190
Wow! I really liked that ending! 8)
User: VENKMAN
Date: 11-Jan 09:20 AM 821352007
IV.191
<>
Well, Skippy said he was going to post VAXTREK tomorrow. So to avoid a
conflict, and to keep the VVC's Farewell Tour on schedule, I'll post all of the
Cafe's next tour stop today. Without further ado, we present:
[1m The Virtual Vax Cafe's Visit to Board Four [0m
(A Comedy in 3 Parts)
From nowhere in particular comes SYLVAR's voice: "Improbability level is
one times ten to the power of twenty-three to one against, and falling..."
TRAVELER looks around. He seems to be sitting at a carrel in CSE 211, in
Row H-I, but every few seconds, the whole world flickers and wavers oddly.
"How did we get _here_?" he asks CADO, who is standing next to him.
"I don't know, boss...but something strange is happening to me. I think
I'm turning into a bird..."
Trav looks, and sees that the Virtual Vax Cafe's bouncer is indeed
sprouting wings and a beak, and his neck is lengthening. "Yes, an albatross,
to be exact."
"Oh, no! I...I feel a sudden urge to be really annoying..."
"Improbability level is one times ten to the power of seventeen against,
and falling..." comes Sylvar's voice again.
An older woman comes walking down the aisle. "I'm sorry, but legs are not
allowed on the carrels," she says. Traveler notices he does have his legs up
on the carrel, but before he can do anything, she simply detaches them and
carries them away.
"Uh, Cado? I have no legs! This is bad!"
"Tell me about it! I'm becoming an albatross, and if you mention anything
about the plot of a Tom Clancy novel, I'm going to be really offended! And
what's that damn flickering?"
"Improbability level is one times ten to the power of twelve against, and
falling..."
"Gee, _this_ is fun!" says PALLAS. Trav and Cado realize that the tall,
red-haired VVC ex-headwaiter is standing at the end of the row, repeatedly
pushing a large button on the wall. This seems to be causing the flickering
effect. The sign over the button says "DE-GAUSS."
"I'm a CIRCA op and I'm okay, I sleep all night and I work all day," sings
DRAKEHART, walking up from the opposite end of the row in a blue vest. "I push
in chairs, I don't eat lunch, 'cause that's our policy..."
"Improbability level is one times ten to the power of seven against, and
falling..."
"This is crazy!" groans the legless Traveler.
"What do you mean, 'crazy'? I hate it when people misuse psychological
terms," says Cado the Albatross. "Or were you referring to me? I'm offended!
Are you saying it's my fault because I'm Jewish?"
"Improbability level is one times ten to the power of four against....ten
to the power of three...two...one. Improbability level is now one to one
against. We are at normal improbability levels. Therefore, anything you can't
deal with is now your own problem."
Pallas, Drakehart and the lab have vanished. Cado and Trav are back to
normal, and sitting in the Greenhouse of the VVC. But the Greenhouse has
changed: the plants are gone, replaced by comfortable sectional leather
couches, and tables covered with food and drink. A dignified waiter in a white
tuxedo walks up to them. "Is there anything I can get you, gentlemen? Hors
d'oeuvres? White wine?"
"Hold on a sec," says Traveler. "Who are you? What's happened to the
Greenhouse?"
"Greenhouse? Sir, this is the V.I.P. Skybox."
"Since when did the VVC have a Skybox?"
"You must mean the VSRC, sir...the Virtual Sports Rock Cafe. See for
yourself, sir...we're right in the middle of Benny Hill Stadium, ahem, also
known as Failure Field."
Trav turns around and looks out through the glass of the Greenhouse, or
Skybox, or whatever it is. The VVC, or VSRC, or whatever it is, seems to be
built into the side of a large stadium. The stands are filled with people, and
there's a football game going on below. From outside comes the sound of Queen:
/WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU! *stomp stomp clap* /
continued...
User: Traveler's Guide to the Galaxy (Revised)
Date: 9-Jan 07:29 PM 821215802
IV.192
TRAVELER and CADO make their way downstairs, and into the Cafe's front
room, identified by a sign on the wall as THE WHITE SOX ROOM. It is doing a
noisy, bustling business. Many of the customers are watching a huge wide-
screen TV on one side of the room, broadcasting a hockey match.
Cado steps over to the bar. "Something is very wrong. ECSTASY would
never put 'Bud Bowl' posters up here!" He finds a remote control, picks it up,
and aims it at the TV across the room. He changes the channel--a basketball
game swims into focus. Another channel--women's volleyball.
He checks the other channels--almost 100--and sure enough, every one is
showing a sports event of some kind. (And each has a logo at the bottom right
corner of the screen saying "ESPN" and a number, from 1 to 99.) Finally, he
switches back to the hockey game, to appease the complaining customers.
DARICELL comes out of the kitchen. "What's the deal? The serving staff
is coming in with dozens of orders for hot wings! That's all they want, hot
wings and beer!"
GRAHAM comes out from behind her. "Well, we've got plenty of beer. I
just looked in the cellar--all the racks of wine bottles are gone, replaced by
stacks of kegs."
"What?? Some of those vintages were rare and old," Daricell says. "QUITE
rare and old."
"Look at it this way, DL," Graham replies. "Some of those kegs may
contain Guinness."
"Well, that wouldn't be so bad," Daricell says, cheering up. A phone
rings inside the kitchen, and she runs to answer it.
SYLVAR walks up and sits at the bar. "Boy, do I feel dumb. I think I--"
"You just came from the Blue Room, right?" Cado says to him. "What's it
look like?"
"It's now called the Bluejays Room. And all the computers are running
something called 'Sportsnet--Your Source For Statistics, Sports Forums and On-
Line Wagering'. I tried rebooting, but it just comes right back up."
Daricell returns, glaring. "What gall! I just got a call from upstairs--
they said they were in the Ivory Broadcast Booth, and they wanted an assortment
of nachos, cheese sticks and hot wings delivered on the double!"
"The Ivory Broadcast Booth?" Traveler frowns. "I'll sort this out."
"Um, Trav, can I tell you something?" Sylvar says.
"Not now, Jon. Why don't you come upstairs with me?" The proprietor
heads for the nearest elevator, and the coffee man tags along.
continued...
User: Traveler: Games Without Frontiers Mix
Date: 9-Jan 07:33 PM 821216062
IV.193
"And Baumgardner's pass is intercepted by Freddings," says MISTERB into
his microphone, as he looks out over the field from the Ivory Broadcast Booth.
"No, Freddings fumbles it--and the clock has run out on the second quarter of
this game between the Louisiana Bus-Starters and the Florida Failures!"
"Yes," says OVERDOSE, sitting beside him. "And seldom has Failure Field
played host to such a matchup. The Bus-Starters' lame, yet pitiful offense is
mirrored by the Failures' laughable, yet sad defense..."
"Thanks for that commentary, Russ, but it's time to go to commercial.
After this, the halftime show, featuring a musical number by 'Hooray For
Everything!' For the Florida Failures Football Network, this is Russ and
Chad--"
"The whole country?"
"Shut your mouth!"
"I'm just talking about Chad, can you dig it?"
"Yyyyyeah...Anyway, we'll be back for the third quarter."
TRAVELER and SYLVAR enter the room. No traces of Ecstasy's elite retreat
remain--the Ivory Tower has been completely transformed. "What are you people
doing here?!" Trav says.
"We're doing commentary for this game. How about you?" Overdose asks.
"No, I mean--what's happened here? What's happened to the Virtual Vax
Cafe?"
"Is he talking about the Virtual Sports Rock Cafe?" MisterB says, puzzled.
"It's not their fault, Trav," Jon Vallee says. "I think it's mine."
"Explain?"
He sighs. "Well, right after we left Board Nine, I brewed myself a hot
cuppa joe, and I realized it was a really good Brownian motion source. I tried
suspending an atomic vector plotter in it, and voila--I'd accidentally created
an Infinite Improbability Generator. Suddenly, reality shifted and the
improbable became probable. And we ended up here."
"Oh no! This is awful. It's just what Farrah wanted to do--turn the
place into a sports bar!" Through the walls they hear Queen blaring again.
/WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU! *stomp stomp clap*/ "Is that the only damn song
they play at sporting events any more?"
LOUCH comes in the door with a disgusted look on her face. "Traveler, I
don't know if I can work here any more!"
"Why?"
"All the customers do is watch TV, and yell for beer and hot wings! And
they keep asking me why I don't wear a tight t-shirt like the Hooters girls!"
"WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU!" *stomp stomp clap*
"Jon, I think you better brew some more coffee, and get that Infinite
Improbability generator running again."
"On the double." Louch, Sylvar and Traveler head downstairs.
"Hey, what about our nachos, cheese sticks and hot wings?" Overdose calls
after them.
* * * *
A few minutes later, Jon has rigged his machine up at the bar in the Red,
or rather "Redskins," Room. The staff gathers round anxiously. "Hurry,"
Daricell says. "The mob is getting restless--the kitchen just ran out of hot
wings."
"Almost ready," he says. "Okay, hold on to your hats, my friends. This
is guaranteed to get weird...improbably weird."
/WE WILL, WE WILL ROCK YOU! *stomp stomp clap*/
"Push the button, Jon!" Traveler says.
And he does. The Queen song fades away, replaced by sitar music. The
stadium outside gives way to an endless field of stars. And Cado says, "It's
happening again--I'm becoming an Albatross! Wow, I'm incredibly annoyed at all
of you!"
"Is that a Starfleet uniform you're wearing?" Traveler says to Sylvar.
"Aye, sir. I mean, uh..."
"Hey, my cigarettes just jumped out of the pack! I think they're...square
dancing..." Graham says.
"We shoulda taken that left turn at Albequerque," Daricell says. "Wonder
where we're off to next?"
continued elsewhere... :)
User: Traveler sez "Can you dig it?"
Date: 9-Jan 07:41 PM 821216528
IV.194
that was actually rather amusing..
User: GHOST
Date: 10-Jan 00:15 AM 821232905
IV.195
*laugh*
The repetition of the almost-audible "we will we will rock you" moving out of
the stadium & into the VVC was what really made me laugh. And also the "I
don't think ECSTASY would hang these posters in here" comment.
And why the $#%&*!!! can't I use the backspace key anymore?
User: Graham
Date: 11-Jan 02:00 AM 821325618
IV.196
*grin*
User: ECSTASY
Date: 11-Jan 02:34 AM 821327647
IV.197
Continuity error, Max -- I would have waited awhile to ogle LOUCH's
Hooters outfit. Say, a few weeks or so. =)
And that business about Sarah *apologetically* asking someone to get their feet
off the furniture really belongs at a higher Improbability. Politely, always.
Apologetically? At a rate of forty-two to one, and rising...
User: SYLVAR
Date: 12-Jan 04:39 AM 821421596
IV.198
Sylvar: you get your chance to ogle her on board 8... :)
User: Traveler
Date: 13-Jan 05:17 PM 821553448
IV.199
<>
Here's a VVC visit in two parts. It's more meditative...not as comedic as
the recent ones...but I think you'll enjoy it...
[1m The Virtual Vax Cafe Visits Board Eight [0m
A warm breeze, smelling of the sea and the jungle, carries the VVC-balloon
across a sky blazing with sunset. As pink and orange fires fade to purple and
blue, navigator CADO spots their destination: a small coastal city twinkling
with the first lights of evening.
They land on a hilltop just outside town. "It's so warm...feels like summer,"
LOUCH remarks, stepping out the front doors.
"It is, here," says TRAVELER. "We're in the southern hemisphere."
"I hear music," DARICELL says. "Singing, in Spanish. Sounds like a festival."
"Well, this is a Catholic part of the world," says SYLVAR. "Lent starts soon,
so everyone from the peasants to the rich folk are getting in as much
celebration beforehand as possible."
"So when are you gonna tell us about this special event we're preparing for?"
the hostess asks.
"Very soon," Traveler says. "I think that car coming up the road is carrying
the people I'm waiting for."
The car stops in front of the Cafe, and the driver gets out: it's VISION.
GHOST gets out of the passenger side, carrying a large cardboard box. "Hey,
Trav," Vision says. "Everything ready?"
"Just about...let's go inside and you guys can make the final preparations."
Inside, Traveler assembles the Cafe staff and explains what's going on: Vision
has rented the VVC, to host a special live-action role-playing game. "It's
a kind of one-night masquerade. We're catering all food and drinks, and of
course providing the setting."
There's not much left to do--Vision just puts up a few signs, and places a
stack
of cards and a couple folders of game information on a table. The VVC staff
and regulars are invited to participate in the game; Ghost briefs them on
their assumed identities. "You are all members of a secret society dedicated
to evil, supernatural purposes, and this is your annual congress. SYLVAR,
you're the host of a popular TV show. CADO, you'll be the corrupt chief of
police. GRAHAM, you're a famous reporter, and TRAVELER here is a high-ranking
mobster."
"Hmmm...I'd much rather be a mobster than a reporter," Graham says. "Ah well."
Ghost hands out cards to each player, detailing their various secret and
magical abilities. Then a crowd of other players shows up from the town,
already briefed on their game personas, and wearing the appropriate costumes.
Some of them are known to the Cafe folks. MUADDIB plays a senator, ROGUE a
shadowy assassin, and ARAMIS a powerful mage. And there's one very familiar
face...DIQMAN as a Bible-toting televangelist. "Hallelujah! It's good to be
back," the former baker says.
"Hey, Diq!" says Daricell. "Come up to Guilt Addictions and chat when you get
a chance. I'm only playing a small part in the game; mostly I'll be running
the shop. I hear the natives are very interested in what I've got to sell..."
"I guess they're quite familiar with that Catholic sex-and-guilt thing," says
Diq, "and besides, the heat here would drive anyone to *ahem* impure thoughts."
"Yes, there is something in the air...but what is pure and impure?" she says.
"*Sigh* I wish ZOROASTER were here, to...explore these issues with me."
The game begins. Orpheus plays Berlin's "Masquerade" as the players circulate,
holding secret meetings and weaving tangled schemes. Sweet, frosty, tropical
drinks are served, loosening spirits and tongues. As a potted palm tickles
his cheek in the White Room, Trav notices something odd: people's clothes seem
to be changing color to match the rooms they're in. "I'm sure that man was
wearing a red suit when he was in the Red Room...now it's white. Have I had
too many pina coladas and daiquiris, or are we inside a Greenaway movie, or a
Garcia Marquez novel?"
"Are you asking if it's real, or if it's your imagination?" says Sylvar. "The
answer is 'yes'."
* * * *
Daricell is doing brisk business up in Guilt Addictions; masqueraders and
townsfolk alike examine the books, toys, oils and implements on the shelves of
the shop, laughing and whispering to each other.
"Some of them just want to spice up their costumes with something in black
silk," she says when Graham stops by. "But some have other things in mind."
"What kind of books do you stock, DL?" Graham asks. "Is that Anais Nin?"
"Yep...and lots more. Some may say the line between erotica and pornography is
hard to define, but I believe in sticking to the former. Only classy stuff."
"Yeah...there's got to be an alternative to places like that awful store we
visited in New York, on our road trip...remember?"
"Indeed."
Graham takes a deep breath. "What's that smell? It's been in the air all
evening. It's wonderful...like flowers, or some delicious food or drink.
Mmmm..." She stands and stretches. "Listen, I've pretty much dropped out of
the game, but I'm going to go get some coffee. And I think I'll look for
Traveler..."
(continued)
User: Traveler: Magic Realism Remix
Date: 11-Jan 09:02 PM 821394217
IV.200
She finds him sitting at a table, watching the masquerade with a wry smile.
"I've been killed. There's a supernatural murderer afoot..."
"Well, you look alive to me...and you feel warm," she says, touching his
sweat-sheened cheek. "The ceiling fans just aren't keeping things cool."
"Maybe I should go get out of these clothes."
"Oh, that reminds me. Could I go up to your apartment with you for a few
minutes? I wanted to, uh, show you my laptop..."
* * * *
TRAVELER and GRAHAM are next seen some time later, dancing to "Rio" in the
Black Room. The game is building to a climax; the Reverend DIQMAN has just
been killed by a mysterious explosion, while starting his tour bus. Now he
joins the ranks of the deceased and the non-playing, on the private "west"
terrace, gazing out over the dark rain forest canopy.
"This is almost our last chance to celebrate before the end," Trav says.
"We should carpe the diem while we can. Ash Wednesday comes soon enough;
but first comes Fat Tuesday--Mardi Gras--Carnaval."
"And masqueraders everywhere," DARICELL says. "We're all wearing masks in
this virtual world."
"Looking through a monitor, darkly," Graham says. "After this grand
masquerade is over, will we really be face to face?"
"I don't think our masks have to obscure our humanity," Traveler says. "Maybe
they're a way to express more about ourselves. Everyone on the Net is wearing
masks...everyone is telling stories."
"As in alt.sex?" Daricell asks. "We were talking about those kind of stories
earlier...about the difference between erotica and pornography."
"Maybe the difference between art and trash is that art never dehumanizes. If
there's no humanity in the story or behind the mask, you've just got
stereotypes, objects, playthings...not people. And no room at all for love."
Someone brings word from below: the magical killer has been defeated, and
GHOST has declared the game at an end. A midnight breeze stirs the trees and
people's hair, bringing the sensuous, unnameable scent that Graham noticed
earlier.
"I've got it!" Daricell cries. "Back at that sex shop in Times Square, that
woman--Rosita?--gave us a little bottle she said contained a powerful love
potion. She told us it was from her home, a village near the Amazon. That's
what we're smelling...the plants she used to make that potion."
"I think," says Traveler, "they work." He glances at Graham, then walks
inside.
The masqueraders are departing, looking tired but happy, their faces flushed
and clothes askew. Everyone seems to be seeking a private spot to retreat
to, and someone else to take with them.
"I'm afraid we could linger forever in this place," SYLVAR says, standing by
the
front doors, as masqueraders leave and dozens of pale white moths fly inside.
"By the way, Mistress LOUCH, the starlight in these parts makes you look
divine..."
Louch smiles. "Yes, we better inflate the balloon and take off soon, or else
we never will." She fans herself with a Cafe menu. "My, but it's a warm
night..."
User: Traveler: Bedtime Stories Version
Date: 11-Jan 09:04 PM 821394386