300 WORD WRITING CHALLENGE #18 -- VICTORY TO REMEDY!

[Void]

MMORPG

The cityscape gleams against your sunglasses, sheathed in pink and grey. Bright and dull all at once. Like a theatre is.

Around you, all the Sims turn on cue. The normal soundtrack of city-people becomes a rush, pouring over each other. Faces swirl, voices bubble and pop. Then the deluge becomes a trickle; the crowd evaporating into cars and houses. The streets run dry.

And the cityscape is still gleaming. Beautiful, though there’s no one but you to see it.

Story clicks onward, and the creatures come. They lurch in; varying shades of pixelated putrid. You peer out from your hiding place, sunglasses slipping on the vectored sweat on your nose, sliding down just a little. Slick.

You pull the banner rifle from your inventory, the shhh of metal against fabric making you wince a little. You’re here again; the cigarette soft and soggy at the corner of your mouth trailing blue smoke. The last woman and the last banner rifle in existence. All the other players are dead.

You take careful aim, the CGI tracery of sweat coiling around the curve below your sternum. You breathe out blue, narrow your eyes over your grey-pink glasses. And. You. Fire.

The staccato roar makes them scream and flee. Bolt after bolt of silver, rippling, unfurling, fluid-like in the air. They solidify around the creatures, twisting, growing.
The banners are huge thorns by the time they settle to the ground; blooming in red sprays at their points. The creatures always scream as they are impaled.

You ease off the trigger when the rest of them fade. Your work is pewter ivy obscuring the streets; twisted, vicious.

The pink is just grey now, not gleaming.

Just grey, and the dripdrip of creatures croaking out EXP.

 

[Remedy]

Charlie

His name was Charlie and he was kind.

***​

Mrs Jaques tore my story out, calling it drivel. She balled it up and dropped it in the bin. Other children sniggered. Charlie didn’t. He winked, which kept my tears at bay.

I still cried in the park after school. I wanted to write Day at the Castle, not the beach. It was good.

Charlie came cautiously around the swings with his gentle smile. “Please don’t cry.”

“She’s a horrid teacher,” I sobbed. “I hate her.”

“She smells like cat wee,” he said. “You can’t let someone who smells like cat wee make you cry.”

I smiled. Somehow it made sense.

Charlie crouched next to me and put his palm to the grass. Lifting it slowly, a metal stem followed his hand like a charmed snake. A shiny blob formed and opened into cobalt petals. “For you,” he said easily with another wink.

My mouth gaped stupidly. “How?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged. “I’ve always been able to.”

***​

We met after school every day from then. I would suggest objects and Charlie would pull them from the ground, just like the flower. We laughed when he made a little metal clock tower fall on a little metal Mrs Jaques.

Not long after, we started seeing the man with the suit, always on his mobile phone. He watched us and Charlie would stop making things. Everywhere we went, he seemed to follow.

***​

Charlie made us a metal den on a rainy day. We were inside eating sweets when they came; four men who didn’t speak. They just dragged Charlie away as metal shot from the ground while he struggled. I screamed and I scratched them.

But as the door closed on their van, I’m sure I saw Charlie lean to the side and wink.

 

[Dan Jones]

Roots

Herb smoothed his white moustache and yawned, his eyelids heavier than Lucille, the shotgun 'cross his lap. A couple kids played out front with bits of burnt-out Buick.

Joe ambled up wearily. “We beat the Weeders' raid.”​

“They still winnin' though. Car batteries runnin' low.” Herb looked up. The copper alien weed tessellated 'cross the sky, blocking the sunlight. After it had landed, the metal weed made its way to the Electrical Grid. Once it sucked out all that power it grow'd like Topsy, till its orange glow was the only light in the sky. “Think them kids’ll look back on now and call it the Good Old Days?”

Joe winced. “Only if we kill the Grid. Give 'em a future.”
“Naw. It ain’t right to shut the lights out for them kids.”​

#

Annie found something in the pitch darkness. Her stomach lurched, hoping it was food.

“What you got?” asked Ruby.
“Copper. Driver's licence: some old moustachioed dude's. Prob'ly dead.”
Ruby sighed. “Take the copper.”​

#

Dead Weeders surrounded Herb. Joe sat against some pillar, pawing the hole in his side. The heat inside the Grid felt damn unnatural. One shell left in Lucille, the Weedheart pulsing before him. He kind of understood why them Weeders took to worshippin' it, tryin' to destroy their batteries.

“Do it, Herb,” Joe croaked.
Herb cocked Lucille, but stopped. “I… can’t. We done right killin' them Weeders, but there ain’t no hope without light. Just darkness.”
“We’ll recover, Herb. Do it.”
Do it. ​

#

Annie woke to gentle sunlight.

The twins played out front with bits of dead copper, while Ruby gnawed jerky.
“Think the kids'll look back on now and call it the Good Old Days?”
Ruby looked around at the unfinished copper shell. Their house. “Only if we keep rebuildin’.”​

 

[Glen]

kansa

the corpzecs kleen shurtz were like jewelz. they were choppered into the new place at the edge of the landfill. it had white konkreet, shiny konveyerz, people we dident no in white overalls and rubber gluvz.

to get near zac and me climbed round an unstabel heep. there were three bodiz in there that we knew off. the garbage shifted under our feet. spills slid down to us. it smelt bad. you know if we notis the smell it is bad.

we were kold. zac started koffin. put his arms over his face to stop the sound. we wayted listenin. but then moved on. weed wayted near the new place all night. early morning is when the landfill smells leest bad. the corpzecs wudnt be here long.

beyond the heep woz a gutter. a long deep hole hidden underneeth the garbage. theyd bilt the new plant here because of theez hazards. hard to get to. they knew weed try. theres places you can try to cross. i went first.

you kud see them. drinkin fancy drinks.

they own it all.

mary lost her arm when a digger fell throo a sinkhole. she bledout and died.

nikkis hands are like footballs with infected cutz from stripping copper from plastik.

all of us, thousanz, have the kansa. in our blud.

we cant get out. if we want water and food we have to keep mining. for metal, plastik, peeses of marble. youd be surprised what they need and have run out of. weve been here sinse we were born. digging. no skool. no chanse to be kidz.
thats what weer goin to tell em.

the dogs stop us before I can cross. they know where the gutter edge is. vicious. big teeth. the handlers laffin at us.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

The Weed

It seems so long ago now. An innocent age, where we partied and danced and never realised how little time remained.

When the weed appeared, it was a curiosity. People went to see it. They arranged outings. "Come and see the growing metal weed!" Drinks and canapés provided. It seemed harmless.

It was a weapon.

My husband was one of the first to die, his body pierced in a thousand places, then ripped apart, his blood irrigating the soil, fertilizing for future growth.

We didn't know who wielded it, who engineered it. Who made it spread so fast that our efforts at eradication failed. Who gave it the strength to blow through modern buildings as if they were made of straw and sticks, and the potent poison on its thorns.

After a time, we stopped wondering. All that mattered was survival. The weed spread and humanity withdrew into enclaves. I fear Spokane is the last one remaining; for months the radio has been silent.

There has been crime, of course. Disorder. Lawlessness. But we humans have a way to build communities in the worst of circumstances. They call me "Madam Mayor" to my face, and "The Iron Bitch" behind my back. I don't mind. If I have to make enemies to keep good people safe, it is a fair price.

I have a theory. I believe that the world is alive. Call it Mother Earth, call it Gaia, call it whatever. It watched its delinquent children, hoping that we would mature into responsible adults. But we didn't. And so it acted.

I give our criminals to the weed as an offering and hope it is not too late. Maybe I can lead our people to salvation. I have to believe that this is not the end, but a final warning.

 

[Phyrebrat]

What Little Girls Are Made of.

‘Why can't girls like dinosaurs, too?’ Bluebell asked me on the way home, her topaz eyes now a sore red. It was the first time she'd spoken since saying goodbye; “See you soon, mummy,” barely audible over the rattle of soil on the coffin.
‘They can, sweetheart. Why?’
‘Nana Walters said I shouldn't draw them. She said dinosaurs were boys' business.’ She held up hands still grimy with soil that now also covers my wife.
‘You draw whatever you want, don't worry about Nana,’ I replied, giving her hand a squeeze.

Bailiffs at the door, a constant stream of childminders to look forward to, not to mention a battle for custody if the in-laws pushed. Perhaps I deserved this; I was the one driving. Maybe I won’t go unpunished after all.

At home I carried Bluebell to her bedroom. I wanted to comfort her but the doorbell rang. Looking out her window, I saw men getting out of three vans.
Bailiffs.
‘Don't worry, daddy, I'll take care of the debt men,’ she whispered.
‘This is Daddy Business, hon,’ I said and left to get the door.

I walked through an empty house I no longer recognised; shadows looked off, the depression in the sofa was…smaller, and there was no lingering scent of vanilla perfume. I prepared my excuses and opened the door.

Bailiffs lay outside, dismembered like broken dolls. Tangles of solid black curves hung everywhere.

‘It worked!’ she said behind me, holding a drawing of our house. She'd scribbled all over it

###

It's been night for days. I heard shrieking yesterday. It sounded like a dinosaur.

###

Just now I was woken by something worse; the smell of vanilla and cold lips on mine uttering a familiar voice;

‘Baby, I can’t feel my heart.’

 

[Brian Rogers]

Crew Members


The crew say to leave the doors closed.

“Let history remain history, the past stay in the past.”

They speak as if I’m a brainless child ignorant of the contempt in their tone.

What do they fear that their eyes go wide, their lips purse in anxious frustration each time my questions stray too close to the truth?

These doors open easily. Not even a lock to pick.


The room is dark, its walls covered in shadows, the floor painted in dust from countless years. Yet there is light. Muted, grey light, as if the colors of the world are wiped away. Smeared like a four year old’s finger painting.

I see them before me, their forms illuminated by an eerie glow.

My footsteps echo.

Movement.


“What do you mean he went in?!”

“Sir you’ll have to calm down…”

“Calm down?!” he interrupted, shoving the crewman backward. “Let me by!” he pleaded, pushing in vain against the invisible barrier. He could see the officer’s face, smug silvery smirk and all, and it enraged him once more, his emotions triggering the suppressive nano machines within his brain, settling his temper instantly as if a switch had been flipped.


It’s too late for regret. But at least I know the truth. Those silver snakes lining every corridor and room. The crew said they provide us air and water and heat and food. They told us those snakes provide the ship its energy.

Lies. All lies. We’ve just been monitored by them for so long no one remembers they are the creatures who invaded us. We are their slaves, moving at their whim, providing them the heat they need to live.

Well, I suppose I’m also a crew member now. And my father is certainly warm. I should tell him about my promotion.

 

[Venusian Broon]

A Lifting of the Veil.

Club Paradox had been my favourite spot to experience the effects of the anomalous space-time fractures. A penthouse bar, it is situated underneath a tangle of metal-like branches; a nearby perturbation having caused the top of this skyscraper to grow as if it were a living plant.

It was there, one day, that I saw the dark haired girl.

Noticing my attention she had gracefully weaved through the thicket of tubes towards me, before asking, “What do you think about the anomalies?” From our vantage point above the city, we could see one half of the estuary water as smooth as a millpond, the other inexplicably coexisting as a raging storm.

“That we’re in a simulation and we've come across a bug in the code. Whoever is in charge needs to reboot.” I had joked.

“What if those running the simulation had done it deliberately?” There was a certainty in the tone of her voice that was profoundly disquieting. Awful things had happened before humanity had adjusted to the new chaos. She continued, “To give a revelation of real reality. Or a test…or perhaps both.” Before I could respond she darted behind me, so I turned to see a rectangular cut in space, framing a golden beach by an azure sea and a temple of gleaming white marble sitting on a distant rocky outcrop. I was transfixed. She had already made footprints in the wet sand before I could react.

“You know, don’t you?” I managed. She gave me a sad smile as the doorway vanished.

Now I go to Paradox and hope the portal to what lies beyond will be there. Perhaps it is a cruel trick by this universe. But I yearn to see the dark haired girl. Perhaps that is my test.

 

[ratsy]

The Tree of Life

Tears rolled down her dirty face, leaving streaks behind them. They couldn’t wash away the fear. I pushed my finger gently against her lips and she relaxed at my touch.The damned things had us cornered, and no matter how brave a face I put on, I knew we were going to die; ripped apart by the heartless bastards like everyone else we’d known.

I saw a slight crack of light coming in down the hall, and I looked for anything I could throw. There was only going to be one chance. I found a bed pan, which made sense since this was a nursing home. I motioned to Kate and hoped she grasped what I was implying. She nodded and got on her feet. With every ounce of strength I had, I chucked it down the opposite end of the hallway.

They were on it like flies on a turd. Their robotic bodies hissed and clanked as they investigated the noise. We made like the opposite of right...and left. Turns out the bet paid off, as the light was a doorway leading to a staircase. We followed it and it led us to a hatch on the ceiling. I pushed it with all of my might, and it creaked open.

Kate took my hand and we climbed out. The sky was bright red; we held each other as we surveyed the damage. Everything was either burning or destroyed, for what looked like miles. Kate’s eyes were drawn to something and I followed her to the edge of the roof. There stood a metallic jumble, and when I realized what it was I lost all sense of hope.

They really were here to stay. The robots had planted metal trees. There was no room left for living things.

 

[The Storyteller]

Extermination​

We found a lot of strange things on this planet, but then, we find strange things on every planet we colonize. And I can tell you, a pipe forest is far from the strangest.

Everyone wondered how metal could possibly grow like that, but in the end, the hows and whys don’t matter much. Not when you have a veritable goldmine of metal right out your backdoor! Oh, our scientists keep trying to figure it out. But who really cares? It’s a convenient resource, end of story. Break off the branches, melt them down, and you’ve got no end of good metal for building materials. Not ten years, and we already have a thriving urban center! And now that we’ve started exporting, we look to make out real good. Things couldn’t be better.



Things couldn’t be worse. All those pesky little insects, hacking off all my limbs... Do they have any idea how long it takes to grow those!? And I get such terrible drafts when they leave my bones gaping open.

But what to do? Moving takes an awful lot of time, and it’s such a nuisance. Still, I can’t just let them chop me to bits! Bothersome, fleshy bugs… I suppose I’ll just have to exterminate them. Squashing their hive should do the trick.

It’ll only take, oh, say, a few hundred years?



Pipetrees have been spreading, growing right in our city. It’s becoming a bit of a nuisance. Saplings sprouting up, cracking the pavement, branches knocking down signs and growing through walls… We keep chopping them down, and they keep growing. Scientists say they’re all connected, all part of the same tree, that they’re dangerous for some reason. Don’t know what they’re so worked up about. I mean, common! It’s not like trees are gonna kill us.

 

[Kerrybuchanan]

Cornucopia

It never ceases to amaze me, the way humans see only what they want to. We pass amongst them, part of their lives; a little push here, a little tug there and everything moves the way we want it to.

For a so-called sentient species they're surprisingly dense. That is why this is such a successful intergalactic holiday destination. Visitors like me immerse themselves in Earth culture, interacting with the dominant native species.

Dogs aren't fooled though: they see us for what we are. No off-world glamour fools them as they growl, hackles raised. They know better than to bite, though. Teeth, however sharp, will not penetrate our gleaming limbs.

Sucking in emotions, I grow a little stronger, branching out, fed by human anger, jealousy and dissatisfaction.

Eugh! I draw away: nearly touched a pair of young lovers there – their joy would undo all the good of this vacation. Trembling at the close shave, I reach out to a child with an ice cream cone. Ah, yes. That's more like it.

With her belly full of sweet stuff, she whines for more. "Buy me cotton candy, Mom! Pink cotton candy."

Mom shakes her head, tired and tetchy – another limb prods tentatively, tastes, likes. I'll have some of that. As I suck them dry, they begin to taste more bitter. Their lovely juicy irritation disappears leaving an unpleasant after-taste of happiness.

Yuck. I pull away before it taints me.

They wander off, holding hands, smiling, oozing love. Bleugh.

It won't last. That's the best thing about this species: it never takes long for them to get angry again, a never-ending feast for my kind. Drain them and a few hours later the tank is full of distrust, disappointment and frustration all over again.

A moveable feast. A true cornucopia.

 

[Twistedlemon]

The Webs


The gray limbs sprouted from the ground. They entangled onlookers with a sense of intelligent design and beauty. The artist was some unknown modern sculptor influenced by the Surge. The alien invasion had left its scar on the psyche of every human on earth. Some found the sculpture to be insensitive to Web victims. Others likened it to memorials for terrorist attacks.

It started slow. Odd objects were seen slowly floating near Saturn when it became publicly known. The gray spheres started to pick up speed.

NASA judged the spheres to casually go by the Earth. As the objects neared, they turned with impeccable precision and collided with our blue marble. The masses were believed to each be half a mile across, big enough to leave sizeable remains after atmosphere entry but small enough to prevent any significant ecological damage to the Earth. The biological weapons known as Webs had one purpose.

The impact’s left craters in the middle of cities. Humans being humans, they would investigate and be consumed. The Webs would break down their victims into a sugar and absorb them through the surface of the silvery tentacles. Overnight they infested entire towns.

The man sat down on the sidewalk. He clutched the dog tags in his hand. He was the front line, back when people curiously poked the creatures and they reacted. The monstrosities were pushed into Southern Canada when it was discovered they couldn’t adapt to the cold. The Marine watched a spider add support to her web as a fly became caught.

His hand dripped with liquid, he looked.

A gray tentacle sprouted from his palm.

The spider was cornering her prey, she knew something was there.

The Marine realized that Earth was the fly. And the spiders were coming.

 

[farntfar]

The Breadstick or the Carrot.


Wa’dus she mean she don’t wanna join us? She thinks she has a choice?
This is Castle Heights Middle School, not some goddam kindergarten in the backwoods run by longbeards and goddam rabbits. She accepts my protection here or bad things happen to her. It’s always been that way and it always will.
Ain’t nobody told her the story of the steel brambles? This family’s run the neighbourhood with a rod of iron for a hundred years. Ask anybody.

Fredo! You go just back and explain it to this ‘Dawn Prince’ girl again simply.
Now get outa here!


OK. Louis. Now give me some good news about the gambling racket. You got the lacrosse team to agree to lose or do I have to start getting nasty?
I hope that expression don’t mean what I think it means Louis. I’m gonna start spitting fire soon if one of you’s don’t start telling me something nice for a change.
The family is NOT PLEASED. Cappiche? Not pleased at all.

Nico? Are we at least selling some drugs and potions? Well thank the blessed virgin for that.


Oh no! Here’s my little brother’s coming back already. If only he weren’t such a sucker for the pretty ones.


Fredo! Fredo! Fredo! You just have to apply a little psychology. She’ll soon come round if she finds the head of her My Little Pony in her linguini.
And YOU KNOW I don’t wanna have to get that old dragon our grandmother round to see her parents again.
Just explain to her calmly but firmly how much nicer it is for everyone if she kisses the ring of Michael Malaficienti.

 

[Vaz]

Creepers


Marv and Willis were snaked against the hallway wall. It was decorated with puncture holes, making it look like a battered slab of Swiss cheese.

"We ain't got but two rounds left Marv." Willis babbled, the tear in his chest drooled with blood that looked black in the moonlight.

Peeping tentatively through one of the holes Marv could see the circle of a fire raging around the house. The flame of a tongue bubbled against the crisping paintwork.

Marv took the magnum from Willis and held it gently like the hand of an old friend. All of them were now dead, or changed into metallic tendrils. C'ept Willis, Marv looked at him with iron eyes; He 'bout to join 'em very soon. Marv thought.

"Please Marv, don't lemme become one of 'em." Willis cried. The tails of tears left tracks on his muddy cheeks.

"sh*t Willis, you gonna be fine. ‘Sides you lost too much crimson for 'em to change ya." Marv placed a lit cigarette between Willis' lips before getting up; he walked slowly towards the lounge.

"Promise me Marv."

"I promise." Marv lied, he never did look back.

Marv stood in the lounge loading his magnum. Almost everything had been destroyed, pictures were smashed and the sofa had been pulled apart like a dog’s chew-toy, its velvety guts seeped onto the floor.

“I’m comin’ for ya, you metal bastards ‘bout to become a special project of mine.” Marv spoke aloud, bitterness spiked his voice.

In the corner of the room a radio set sat gleaming like a new bullet. Marv stared at it strangely. It looked almost perfect.

Magnum raised Marv lurched into the night. The cauldron of a fire nipped at his cheeks...

The radio spat to life. Jeepers Creepers blared out of its fuzzy speakers.

 

[Mr Orange]

herba ferrocia


Jane first heard the voices at Mike Rogers’ leaving do. There were already tiny shoots growing in the office floor, but Management said it was nothing to worry about. She was trying to find Mike, who seemed to have left his own leaving do, when she heard a whisper.

Help me

The shoots were a foot tall before she heard anything again. The segmented, metallic ferroweed was commonplace in the streets, but weed inside was new.

It’s dark

Of course, everyone agreed it was harmless, and apparently you couldn’t kill it anyway. Living with ferroweed was the only option, and it didn’t bother her really. The voices, however, were like an itch that she just couldn’t scratch.

I… don’t know where I am

The weed was up to her chest when Jane realised the faint voices were coming from inside it. She had to get close to the curious, toothed openings to hear properly, but it was definitely the weed.

Can you help me? I’m scared

A metallic jungle now filled half the office floor, cordoned off by Management. So Jane stayed late and slipped under the cordon. She had to help.

I think I’m going to die

Jane couldn’t bear the thought of that. “I’ll do anything,” she whispered, leaning in close.

Help…Jane… Hold us…

#

Charlie first heard the whispers at team drinks for Jane. Management was trying to keep things hush-hush, but the rumours agreed that she wouldn’t be back at work. The weed was thick in the streets, three storeys high, and almost filled the office. Luckily, Management had reorganised and there was just enough room for the people that hadn’t left yet.

Help… Charlie…

The weed was whispering to him. In Jane’s voice.

Hold us…

He had to help.

 

[johnnyjet]

Guts and Glory

When the fire and smoke from the explosion cleared, all that remained of the east end of the state-of-the-art A. I. research building was a hollowed out husk and a mass of twisted pipes and wires. Although the terrorists were still on the loose, a crowd gathered outside the ruins to gaze in wonder at the exposed guts of the building.

Co-founder Benjamin Burke -- scrawny in T shirt, jeans and thinning gray hair -- kicked among the rubble.

His partner was dead. Could he rebuild without him?

At his feet a cracked monitor lit up. A metallic voice from a nearby handheld device said, "Issuing reconstruction designs."

His cell phone buzzed. He held it up and watched the downloading of dozens of PDF's. Subject: "For Your Review and Approval."

Benjamin stared in disbelief. The A.I. was taking charge now.

A noisy ruckus erupted down the street. A mass of people quickly scattered as three men charged through the crowd, guns drawn and firing. They were coming straight toward his ruined building.

Benjamin hurried toward a gaping hole in the building that led into a corridor lined with office pods. He stumbled over rubble and fell several feet from the entrance.

The gunmen burst into the ruins, clearly on a mission. They weaved their way through the tangled web of warped metal and piping. The piping began to vibrate and move, gradually wrapping itself around the intruders. The more they struggled, the more rapidly the piping encircled them like pythons entrapping their prey.

In seconds it was over. Their crushed bodies were left to hang as a warning and a testament to the glory of technology.

Benjamin continued to stare as his phone beeped. He picked up.

"Reconstruction will begin tomorrow. 7 AM sharp."

 

[A. Fare Wells]

Lost in the Brambles


Let’s dispel the notion that the trouble at Wembley was caused by an utter lack of intelligence, shall we? For if I (no, you!) had been more observant, as we have already agreed, the stems would not have taken root and thought the proper discourse was strangulation.


Indeed, were it not for the sheer lack of attention to detail, the Havenots would have become Havehads and therein avoided the Werenots.


Are you keeping up? Pay attention, lad! This nonsense and the Jibber Jabber does not play well with my emotions! I wish not to dabble in the arts of the Saidsaid Arcane, but you leave me no choice. No choice, I tell you! You sit there attempting to decipher my cryptic meaning, some deep philosophical humbug, some enlightenment from the fruits of ingenuity where none exist.


Poof! And you’re gone again like a whisper in the wind. But I care not! Do I care? It is better without them. That is what I think! Is that what I think? It is! Laughter is in my belly and tears in my knees.


You are not there. He is not here. She is everywhere! But where are They?


And now what is this? Are They coming to take me away? Or is it Them? There is no one! There they are! Who sees me? Do you? Am I lost in the brambles, or a figment in your imagination?


Don’t look at me!

 

[Sancho]

Saint Peter of Tau Ceti e

"Yeah!" shouted Leif shouted over the scream of the anti-grav engines as he guided his Air-board between two lumbering shuttle pods to the finish line.
"Lets go again." he whooped.
"Nah, you fly too close to the barrier. Anyway I promised to help the Underdweller charity." said Llan, spinning her board toward the pyramid apartment blocks.
"That's lame!" shouted Leif, "Everyone knows they're savages!"
Later as Leif hovered above the hydroponic towers, he discovered a grey patch in the clear blue sky. Reaching through, he caught a red snow flake. "Cool!..."

Peter's long black overcoat flapped as he watched a rust squall, roil in over the rotting hulks of forgotten skyscrapers. The boarder flew through the shield, straight into the teeth of the iron-sand gale. It tore strips off his clothes and face, forcing him back. He smashed into the flaring shield, bounced off and tumbled to the shattered brown earth.

Peter extended his Uni-shield to protect the battered teenager.
"Are you alright?"
Leif touched his head and stared at his dripping red hand.
Peter quickly sealed his cuts, "First time you've seen blood?"
Leif gasped, "Yeah! Why doesn't my Uni-shield work?"
"You crossed the City's shield. Your citizenship is forfeit!"

Peter helped Leif to his feet and pointed beyond the pipe mounted photo-refractive crystals, at the sun drenched city dwellers. "Those holographic projectors keep most people content... But not you. Why break the barrier?"
Leif looked at Peter, silhouetted by pale sunlight, straining through dirty clouds.
"To see what's out here. People should know the truth!"
"People don't want the truth! They want green parks, blue skies and you threatened that!" Peter turned away, "Good luck."
"Wait! You can't leave me here!"
"We are not savages! There is an Underdweller village two clicks away." Peter said, closing the gate!

 

[mosaix]

Moving On...

I watched the children playing games that only children can play in dry dirt. In the distance small dust devils swirled across rocky ground.

A tentacle tapped me gently on the shoulder. It could only be Sreth. I turned from the window.

“How long do you think?” she said.

“Should be any minute now. I can hardly wait.”

“Yes, it has taken a long time.”

“Without your help it we would never have done it.”

“I assure you we have found it a pleasure, Raymond. Terra-forming, as you call it, is our speciality. Mars is just one of many planets that we have helped make habitable for endangered species – all over the galaxy. Life on your Earth has not got long now. You were lucky we found you when we did. Now some few thousands will have a second chance. I know you will take our advice and use it wisely – some do not.”

“We must. We can't get it so wrong again. We've certainly left our stain on what was the blue planet. The red planet is our last chance.”

“There is much work still to do. Today is the first but, for human kind, most important of many milestones.”

“You're right. Few things we'll do will be as important as this.”

“True, but it is also symbolic for your kind. A fresh beginning. Look!” Sreth pointed over my shoulder. I turned back to the window.

The children were staring up into a dark, cloudy sky. A new generation was being washed clean – it was raining.

 

[Starbeast]

Kryton Discovers a 1980's Rap CD called, "Metal Tree - The Gathering"​

"Good morning, Mr Rimmer."

"Why are you all smiles?"

"I wrote a song. Listen...


My name is Kryton,
created in Brighton.
Made to serve,
not to frighten,
and that's word."

"Hey. Let me try that."

"Go ahead Cat."

"I'm so pret-tay,
a cool kit-tay.
I get fish on a plate,
and that's great."

"Red, Red, Red"

"DWARF"

"Red, Red, Red"

"DWARF"

"Shake your end,
my feline friend.
You get wild,
I'll bust a diode."

"Moves like a twister,
hey, what's up Lister?
Come rap with us,
and get DOWN!!"

"What, what, what?"

"Get down."

"What, what, what?"

"Let's go to town."

"You guys are brain dead,
stupid, lame, dumb, like smeg heads,
rapping a song,
words all wrong."

"Is that a fact?
Step on him, Cat."

"You're a rude dude,
stuck up, boring, and crude.
I'll set you straight,
ya egotistical ape.
Get with the program,
and join the human race.
Or I'll shove you in an airlock,
and flush you out, in space."

"What?!"

"GO, GO, GO!!!"

"What?"

"GO, GO, GO!!!"

"What?"

"Cat is only hin-ting,
what Lister and I are, think-ing.
So you better get right,
or we'll switch off your, hard-light.
You don't like what we say,
that's.."

"OK!!!"

"Sit on this, Mr H head,
and spin on it, you.."

"SMEG HEAD!!!"

"Alright. I know when I'm not appreciated. Peasants!" (leaves)

"Hello dudes."

"Hey Holly."

"Nice song, Kryton. I recorded it."

"Thank you Holly."

"Say, Holly."

"Yes. Lister."

"Play that song throughout the ship."

"Certainly. You want to cheese-off Mr Rimmer then? You have my blessing."

"Thanks Holly."

"Cheers. Remember me at Christmas."

"What would you like?"

"Your company."

"Aww Holly."

"And keep Mr Rimmer irritated."

Lister, Cat and Kryton laugh.