Welcome to the fourth installment of Mystery Superguy Theatre 3000. Just a note here: 'WarHammer' was MSTed at its Author's request, and prompts me to post a little blurb, below. 1. I will not MST a piece of fiction by a currently writing Author, unless that Author requests that I do so. If an MSTed Author returns later, tough. 2. I prefer not to MST a 'villified' Author, until bad feelings have started to settle down about that Author. 3. I am now open to requests as to what you'd like to see MSTed, from the Superguy Logs. If there's something you want MSTed, please include the Log number where it can be found (just for my convienience, y'understand). Remember that I get these things out fairly infrequently, so the line might get a little long. 4. Currently, I'm posting this only to the Superpen List. Do you think it should move to Superchat, or remain 'Authors Only'? And now, on to the netfic! *** In the Not-To-Distant future, (Well actually it's today!), Some authors sent painful stories (But most of them didn't stay). I borrowed the concept of Joel and the Bots, Since I couldn't be bothered making up new plots, They'll do a good job hacking up the tales, (And they'll find out what happens when Creative Writing fails!) I'll give them cheesy fiction, The worst I can find! I won't have to go look for it, 'cause it shows up all the time! Now keep in mind Joel can't control, Where the stories begin and end, (Well probably he could at that but who would read them then?) Author Roll-Call! Payne! McNally! Claffey! If you're wondering why they wrote this stuff, Or with your mind they toy, Just repeat to yourself 'it's just a post, I should sit back and enjoy... Mystery Superguy Theatre 3000'! [Scene opens on the SOL. Tom and Crow are wearing brightly coloured uniforms and prancing around behind the room's desk. Joel walks into shot.] Joel: Hi folks, welcome to the Satellite of Love where...[notices Tom and Crow], darlings what are you doing? Tom: Oh hi Joel! We got back into the Superguy archives and thought it would be really cool if we could do some heroic stunts, just like you see there! Crow: Yeah! So we got Gypsy to suspend the laws of physics on the satellite while we did it! Joel: You got Gypsy to suspend the laws of physics? Crow, was that such a good idea? [Gypsy staggers into shot, spinning wildly around, smoke rising from her head. She staggers back out.] Crow: Yeah sure, she'll be fine! What could happen to her? Tom: In the meantime, watch this and prepare to be astounded mere mortal! I'll fly through the air with no absolutely no visible means of propulsion and look _good_ while doing it! [Tom is raised into the air by a wire that's only semi-visible, and twirled around in the air.] Crow: And I will fire beams of pure force from my eyes without suffering any recoil whatsoever! [Turns to look at a pile of papers, there is a *zotting* noise and the papers are whisked away on a nylon string] Wow! Joel: Hey that's great guys and...[looks directly into Cambot]...oh oh. Tom [Still swinging]: What? What? Joel: Um guys? I see the readers. Crow: So wha--ooooh poopie. Tom: WHAT? WHAT? Joel: Tom, now stay calm, but I just broke the fourth wall. Tom: So? Crow: We're on a satellite, Servo. [Suddenly, papers, small objects and Tom begin flying wildly around the room, while other cheesy special effects make it look like there is a great deal of turbulence in the room.] Tom/Joel/Crow: EXPLOSIVE DECOMPRESSION! AIIIIIIII! Joel [holding onto the counter for dear life]: We'll be right back! [slaps the button] *** [Return to the SOL. Wind is still blowing around, as is Tom.] Joel: Gypsy! Be a good girl and restore the natural laws of physics in the satellite please! I'll free you some more resources in the CPU, Gypsy! Please? Daddy loves you! [Suddenly, everything stops. Joel stands up, and dusts himself off, while Crow's head returns to a forward position, having been twirled around during the storm. Several beats after everything is settled, Tom falls from the ceiling and smashes to the floor.] Joel: Well, the fourth wall is back in place and reality as we know it has become stable once more. Tom, Crow, I don't want you ever to mess with the overriding forces of time and space again, do you understand me? Tom/Crow [petulant]: Yes Joel... Joel: Good. Now go apologise to Gypsy for almost burning out her main CPU and making her a vegetable forever. [Light begins flashing] Oh look, Sam and Burt are calling. [Hits button] [Switch to...Deep 13.] Doctor Forester [Has his back to the camera. Turns slowly around, so that his face is framed by the screen.]: Well hello again, ASCII avengers! Today we have a very..._interesting_ experiment for you. I'm sure you'll find it _painfully_ obvious that we've been over the Superguy archives, looking for something special to pipe your way! But first, we have a little business to take care of, DON'T we Robinson? [Switch to...SOL. Joel is holding a pocket flashlight with two wires coming from it, ending in alligator clips. On the desk are three HD 3.5" disks.] Joel: For our invention this week, I decided to go back to that project that we all had in grade ten electrical shop. Remember that thing we had to build out of a flashlight to test wiring, called the continuity tester? Well we've totally redesigned it for Superguy! Tom: Say you're reading your favourite titles on Superguy, and suddenly, you want to know whether or not they're 'in continuity' and current! What can you do? Crow [muttering]: Well you _could_ look at the stupid continuity notes... Tom: Silence, bird-thing! This is SCIENCE! [Offstage: SCIENCE!] [All heads do a double take at that. Joel shrugs.] Joel: Whatever. Tom: _Any_way, as I was saying, all you have to do is clip this handy-dandy continuity tester to a disk containing a copy of the tale [Joel attaches the clips to top and bottom of the disk], and turn it on! [Joel does so; the flashlight lights up fairly brightly] The brighter the glow, the closer it is to continuity! Which one is that? Joel: Um...I think this is ALU Acadely. [Unclips the disk, attaches the tester to another one. The flashlight seems to be surrounded by a pall of darkness as the room grows visibly dimmer.] Tom: Egads! What is _that_? Joel [quickly unclips it; the room brightens again.]: Sorry, that was Road Race from Hell(tm). One more? Tom: Might as well give this thing a thorough testing! All for SCIENCE! [Offstage: SCIENCE!] Crow: Servo, would you STOP DOING THAT? Tom: It's not ME, Crow! [Meanwhile, Joel clips the flashlight to one final disk. There is a humming noise; and suddenly the device explodes in a bright flash of light. The smoke clears, to reveal Joel and the bots standing blackened.] Joel: Um Tom? Tom: Yes...Joel...? Joel: Remember to put a warning label on this: "Do Not Use On the FAQ." Tom: You got it...Joel...[falls over, as does Crow] [Switch to...Deep 13] Doctor F: Wonderful, Joel, wonderful! Always glad to see a nice, peaceful invention develop the capacity to inflict pain! And speaking of which, I need Frank for a moment. Oh Frank? Frank? Where are you, you semi-sapient son of a baboon? Frank [Walks up from behind, and leans into shot]: Yes, oh demented master of air, wind and sea? Doctor F [Very excited]: The invention exchange, the invention! Show them what we've created through the application of Insane Evil Science! [Offstage: SCIENCE!!!] Frank [Walks out of shot, returns wheeling in a trolley. On it is a tall, bulky shape, covered by a tarp]: Well, we realised that there was one thing we could take from the Superguy archives that could allow us to control the world quickly, efficiently, and without any messy mildew buildup! Doctor F: The spit-curled man-child speaks the truth, Robinson! Using the distilled essence of the mailing list as our base, Frank and I have managed to cook up something that will knock your Gizmonic-issued socks off! The most loved, most charismatic, most powerful hero ever known - the person who will charm the world into accepting me as its perpetual ruler of darkness or else pummel them into the ground - robots and gentlemen, I present to you my magnum opus; the culmination of my life's work; the ultimate expression of my fiendish genius: I give you...SUPERGUY HIMSELF! Frank [Dramatically whips off the sheet. There is a gust of wind which nearly knocks both mads off their feet, and does serious damage to their hairdos.]: The heck(sm)? [A tiny piece of bright yellow paper is stuck to Frank's shirt. Doctor F walks over to it, rips it off, and gazes at it.] Doctor F. [Reading]: "Dear Mads. While I am so terribly, terribly sorry to have disappoint your plans of using me as an innocent pawn in a bid to take over the world, I noticed that a cat was stuck up in a tree in Tahiti and had to rush to its rescue. I have also noticed a fire in Berlin which I must put out; an earthquake in San Francisco which endangers innocent lives; and the fact that Claffey has fired up his word processor: all crisies which I must deal with as soon as possible. Don't wait up for me, I might be at this for a while. -Superguy" Frank: So...I should call 'Deathmask' and tell them that the 'World Conquest' victory BBQ's a no-go? Doctor F [slowly turns to Frank, his hands in strangling position. He stops momentarily.]: Robinson, I have to crush my assistant's larynx. Shouldn't take more than an hour or so. In the meantime, we have a special melange of Superguy fiction set up for you, which we think you'll find particularly...brain killing. We have for you your first Metaworld, featuring the talents of one Reverend Sabre at a particularly low point in his career; but first, a heartwarming tale by an Author who already wrote at his very limits, left at the highest point he could ever hope to reach, and who doesn't have a writing 'career' so much as a catastrophic failure of his spelling and grammar checker! So Joel, on with the posts...hit the button, Frank. Frank: But aren't you going to kill me first? Doctor F: Hit the button and then I promise I'll kill you, Frank. Frank: Okey-doke! [Hits the button, Doctor F lunges for Frank's throat and begins to throttle him.] [Switch to...SOL. Lights flash, buzzers buzz; everything you expect from cacophony.] Joel/Crow/Tom: We've got POST SIGN! (1...2...3...4...5...6...) ========================================================================= Date: Sun, 17 Sep 1995 01:24:38 -0400 Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: "William F. Claffey" [Crow: With a name like AOL, it HAS to be good!] [Tom: With an advertising budget the size of the national debt, they can't afford to be good!] Subject: The Entrance of Splatman [Joel: So the whole post is going to be Splatman walking through a door? Oh, I hate this 'nouveau art'...] Bill Claffey originates from the small town of Nowhere CT. [Crow (announcer's voice): And would our mystery Viewpoint Character sign in please?] [Tom (whispered): Our mystery VC is Bill Claffey, who comes from Nowhere CT. His lifelong ambition is to write one really bad post for Superguy and then to disappear into obscurity.] He was a 26 year old roads crew manager for the CT Dept of Roads and Bridges. [Joel: And Tunnels.] [Crow/Tom: Oh my!] Well [Crow: They did wells too? These guys really need to subcontract out!] that was before the dangerous accident [Tom: So...is Claffey suggesting that most accidents aren't dangerous?] that turned him into SPLATMAN...... [Joel: Hey guys? I think I just felt a gust of foreshadowing or something blow through the room.] [Tom (considers for a moment): Nahhhhh! Gypsy must've left the theatre door open again.] It was a hot July day and the road crew had stopped at the local bar for their version of the two Martini lunch called the ten beer blast. [Crow: Woo-hoo-hoo! Your tax dollars at play!] [Tom: I dunno about the road, but the workers are sure getting laid out!] [Joel: So now we know why those centre lines are never straight...] Kyle Irksberry [Tom: Nee of the popular kid's TV show, 'Herself the Elf'...] [Joel: Quit making fun of last names, will you Tom?] was especially happy on this day [Tom (singing): I feel happy! Oh so happy! I feel happy, slap-happy, you guys! My medication...has worn off and now I feel glad!] [Joel/Crow (singing): What a happy place, what a happy town, he'll be high on life, 'till his Sedative brings him down!] because he had just gotten off probation and [Crow: Could finally go back to strangling young university students in peace, with only a minor slap on the wrist to his record! Let's hear a big round of applause for the jail system, ladies and gentlemen!] was in training to be a qualified heavy machine operator. [Joel: Okay, Kyle...you see that lever there?] [Crow: Ayup!] [Joel: You push it to go forward.] [Crow: Forward! Ayup!] [Joel: Okay Kyle...you see that lever over there?] [Crow: Ayup!] [Joel: You push that to go backward.] [Crow: Backward! Ayup! Um...what was the first lever for again?] Upon return to the job site the crew started with their normal activities, [Tom: They would save their paranormal activities for next evening in a nearby cornfield.] which was to repave 500 miles of the new route to Nowhere [Joel: Gee, I've always taken the Bus to Somewhere instead.] which would bring big business to the sleepy town (it was estimated that Nowhere might even get is own stoplight). But Bill Claffey would not see the success of the soon to be booming town. [Tom: He would see only the bitter humiliation at being rejected for the job of crossing guard in a town without a stoplight.] Instead Kyle Irksberry would change his life forever. [Crow: You mean he's going to give Bill...lines? Some degree of characterisation? Something to make us care that this person even exists instead of placing bets on which issue he'll get flattened by a steamroller?] [Joel: Well let's not go that far, Crow.] Kyle determined that Bill was holding him back from his dream of opening the largest lemonade stand and plotted to kill him. [Tom: Um, woah there Mr Author Person...do _any_ of those words really need to be there?] [Crow: Yeah, and why was Bill holding Kyle back _and_ plotting to kill him? That sounds like redundancy!] [Joel: Redundancy? Crow, he's on a _road crew_.] [Crow: Oh. Heh. Never mind.] So when Bill went into the porta potty [Tom [despairing]: Why Joel? Why do faeces always have to enter into this eventually?] [Joel [comfortingly]: It's our job, buddy. It's what we do.] to take some of the beer out of his system it was that last time he was to exist. [Crow: What a crappy way to go!] [Tom: Gaaaaaahhhhh....] Because Kyle saw his chance and stream rolled the porta potty and killed Bill Claffey. [Joel: I think that sentence pretty much epitomises the whole of this issue.] [Tom: Anti-climactic, short and it makes little sense even after you've read it a dozen times?] Well due to the stench nobody investigated the porta potty to recover the body of Bill and they just covered up the porta potty and left for the day. [Tom: Hmm...in addition to getting that stoplight, the town _might_ want to invest in someone who knows, oh I don't know, forensic procedures?] [Crow: Claffey needed a plot contrivance, we got a plot contrivance. Don't question it Servo.] Little did anyone know that Bill now 6 ft tall and 1/2 an inch thick survived the tragic event. [Crow: I think Claffey meant it was tragic that he survived.] [Tom: He got crushed while using a porta-poty and left to rot because the city coroner couldn't take the smell. This just does not strike me as pathos!] He quickly escaped they porta potty coffin and energed [Tom: You know, I've noticed that you can only take so much of this 'artistic use of language' before it all starts to look like someone forgot to proofread.] [Joel (Bela Lugosi voice): Ah, the toilet ducks of the night! What blue water they make...] on the surface to find that his luch box was missing [Joel: Which is the _first_ thing to check for in the event of a near-fatal emergency.] [Crow: Attention airline passengers, we are going down. Please extinguish all smoking materials, assume the crash position, and for god's sake, make sure your lunch box is wearing its safety belt. Oh and you might wanna check and see if your kids are buckled in too, but that's no biggie.] and now in the possession of Kyle who proudly put it on his mantle peice the same way a hunter would display his kill. [Joel: Bagged this one back in '69...feisty little critter too. These aluminium ones, they got a powerful fiery temper, y'know, and'll go right fer yer throat if'n you lets 'em. Caught this one with a 00 right b'tween the picture 'a Mickey Mouse and Goofy.] Thus begins the legend of SPLATMAN who is looking for a mentor to [Crow: Drag kicking and screaming into this sorry excuse for a story.] instruct him on how to gain back his dignity and his lunch box. [Tom: You know...I have this funny feeling that the two are mutually exclusive.] [Joel: At least it was short...] [Crow (puzzled): It was?] [Tom: Ah Claffey. The man who can take a page of text, and make you feel like you just read a telephone book.] [Joel: Come on, let's go...] ========================================================================= [6...5...4...3...2...1...return to SOL. Joel and the bots are standing behind the desk, papers in hand. Well, except for Tom, who has his paper propped up on a desk stand.] Joel: Okay Crow, we're here. Are you going to tell us what's up with all the hubbub, bub? Crow: Well you see Joel, my new song is ready and I need you both to help me sing it! If this one flies it could be fame, fortune and cute toasters who don't know how to say no for _this_ little bot! Joel: Maybe we should hear this song first, Crow... Crow: Oh! Right! Okay, does everyone have their music? Joel/Tom: Yup. Crow: Okay, Cambot, start up the score I gave you; gentlehuman and robot, prepare yourself to sing the 'Superguy Continuity Song!' [A soft, slow melody begins to play.] Joel/Crow/Tom: Come sing with us a song of tales/ 'bout history long gone by Of derring do and adventure too/ on a list called Superguy We'll sing of stories new and old/ of feats both great and wee We'll sing of things most interesting/ and of continuity! Tom: Our trip through time begins with fish/ a Grunion smart as man A Wonder was this fishy dude/ and Superguy began! Crow: Juan Valdez and Manman too/ they lined up side by side Fought aliens and other stuff/ and stopped some homicide! Joel: Solutions and Trashman came/ Their stories short and fleet Patrolling 'round the Earthly ground/ Cleaning up the street. Joel/Crow/Tom: Come sing with us a song of tales/ 'bout history long gone by Of derring do and adventure too/ on a list called Superguy We'll sing of stories new and old/ of feats both great and wee We'll sing of things most interesting/ and of continuity! Tom: Rad and Punks and Ignorant Men/ They wandered round the list But if the same world they shared/ Then each other they missed Crow: Sure we had some crossovers/ But nothing like today Then 'long came Flatphoot pholies/ and continuity went away! Joel: Flatphoot led to Akron/ A mix of heroic dudes They took on billions of presidents/ and history was screw--hey Crow, is this really a nice thing to say here? Crow: Keep with the program, Robinson! Joel: Sorry, sorry. Joel/Crow/Tom: Come sing with us a song of tales/ 'bout history long gone by Of derring do and adventure too/ on a list called Superguy We'll sing of stories new and old/ of feats both great and wee We'll sing of a thing most confusing/ that of continuity! Tom: Ramrod and th' 'nnihilator/ a tale that was almost told Mixing heroes seemed to work/ and crossovers were gold! Crow: The Magic Wars, Superguy's Death /I talk of One and Two Th' Industrial Revolution/ and the Authors had much to do! Joel: Hey, don't I get a verse here? Crow: Oops, guess I forgot to continue this part, aw never mind just keep singing. Joel/Crow/Tom: Come sing with us a song of tales/ 'bout history long gone by Of derring do and adventure too/ on a list called Superguy We'll sing of stories new and old/ of feats both great and wee We'll sing of a thing most confusing/ that of continuity! [All three begin singing at the same time] Tom: Radian and Shadebeam/ Joel: A baseball game 'tween superguys/ Crow: Bob City saw a lot of use/ [Music slowly begins to drift into dissonance] Tom: went on a date with the... Joel: ...Road Race from Hell(tm) and found... Crow: ...the Caverns of Gratuitous Death... [Music begins to resemble stripped gears being run] Tom: Come sing with us a song of tales/ 'bout history long gone by Joel: ...himself lost sod to the moon... Crow: ...We'll sing of stories new and old/ of feats both great and wee... [Music is replaced with your favourite selection from 'Chainsaw Duets'] Tom: We'll sing of a thing most confusing/ that of continuity! Joel: ...the Grand Tour ran a little long... Crow: ...Terranian Wedding... [The Music sounds like a train wreck at the point, Joel begins waving his arms at Cambot, who eventually halts the music.] Joel: Crow, what was happening there? Tom: Yeah! I mean we were all over the place! No one was in the same spot as anyone else! We didn't know who was doing what, or when, or why! Joel: It was a complete mess! Impossible to understand! Tom: Do you know what this MEANS, Crow? Crow: Yeah! It means that my song about Superguy's Continuity is absolutely perfect! [Buzzing buzzers and rapidly lighting lights.] Joel: Unh oh, we've got POSTSIGN! (1...2...3...4...5...6...) ========================================================================= Date: Sat, 22 Feb 1992 18:00:17 EST Reply-To: UCF SUPERGUY List Sender: UCF SUPERGUY List From: "Senator E. A. Burns, An.-Commuter" Subject: MW: WarHammer #1 [Crow: Wow, our first Metaworld!] [Joel: Brace for impact everyone.] WarHammer [Tom: WarHammer time! Dun dun dun do dun do dun da...] [Crow: Don't touch that!] [Joel: Crow, don't hurt him.] by Eric Alfred Burns [Tom: Joel...I think Doctor Forester sent this one up just to shatter the last of my illusions about the world.] [Joel: Forgive and forget, Tom, forgive and forget.] [Crow: I guess we should be thankful that _this_ wasn't the series to make it to issue one hundred?] The technicians walked into the smoke filled room, [Crow: Hey! We're back in 'The Creeping Hand'! How'd that happen?] confident that their heat resistant suits and breathing gear [Joel: Would tragically fail when called for by the plot.] would protect them for the limited time they were inside. [Tom: This LIMITED TIME OFFER! Buy one smoke filled room, and get your choice of expendable faceless technicians ABSOLUTELY FREE!] They collected the heavy, metal [Joel/Crow/Tom (begin head banging wildly)] object from the testing platform. The platform itself had melted along the edges -- itself surprising. The heat test must have gotten hotter than any test before it. [Tom (as technician): Hey boss? Yeah, we were running a heat test, and the place got all warm and stuff, is that supposed to happen?] [Joel: Luckily, the technicians were using 'Degree' antiperspirant, 'cause the pressure was on.] "Well?" Dr. Kramer asked over the PA. "How does it look?" "Great," Julie said. She was smiling. [Joel: Julie smiled a lot, ever since the operation. And you hardly noticed the scar unless she was wearing her hair back that day.] She was one of the senior design engineers on the project, [Crow: And she spent a lotta time locking the freshman design engineers in the closet overnight!] and the coolant systems were her pet project. [Joel: Okay...guys, it's time to take stock here. Who's testing what and for whom?] [Tom/Crow (huddle for a moment, murmuring).] [Crow (turning to Joel): I'd tell ya, Joel, but I'm afraid I'd have to kill you.] She wiped some of the carbon off of the unit, and opened it up. [Tom (Ghostbusters voice): My god...look at all the junk food!] Inside, the goldfish bowl looked about the same as it did before. [Crow: You mean bowl-shaped?] [Joel: Maybe with goldfish in it?] [Crow: Do you find it really sad that she's bringing her 'little friends' to work with her?] [Joel: I guess she has separation issues with her fishes.] [Tom: Hey, leave her alone! This _is_ her 'pet project', after all!] She checked the sophisticated and highly sensitive thermometers. [Tom: They were still sulking.] "Air Temp's up three point five five degrees celsius," she called out. "The water temp's up one point four eight. No problems to speak of!" [Crow: Woo-hoo! Now we can throw some Oscars in there, and maybe some Angelfish!] [Tom: I guess the experiment went 'swimmingly'!] [Crow: Tom, you 'n me have to go have a talk by the airlock real soon.] "Incredible," Dr. Kramer said. "The sensors indicate the outer skin of the torso unit [Joel: Is extra crispy! We ordered original recipe!] was up to two thousand three hundred and fourteen degrees at it's hottest. [Tom (singing): There's some brown coloured spots on the lab today...they're the same old spots as yesterday...] It only took a few seconds for the coolant systems to bring it down -- but the interior temperature was the vital component! [Joel: You mean they've installed temperature into the...er...whatever we're talking about?] [Tom: And if you look out your right-side windows ladies and gentlemen, you'll notice that we've just passed right through suspense and entered total confusion. Please buckle your safety belts, return your seats to the upright position and extinguish all hopes of understanding what's going on.] Bring the unit out. We're going to have to begin actual field trials now." [Tom: Test it fast! We can't risk an 'undefined mechanical object' gap!] You've got it, Julie thought. Field testing. Lieutenant Whyte [Crow: *ahem* Shouldn't that be Lieutenant Caucasian?] [Joel (warningly): Crow!] had better be ready, because this project was going to work. [Joel: As soon as they figured out what the heck(sm) they'd built!] There was no way that two-bit punk would screw this one up. [Tom: She was confident that the Gun Avenger would put everything right.] *** James Whyte relaxed, his perspiration evaporating. [Joel (nodding sagely): Perspiration tends to do that.] [Tom: Ayup.] [Crow: Ayup.] Nearby, a curl of smoke from his cigarette made arcane patterns in the air. [Tom: Bubble bubble toil and trouble...plot line burn and fish bowl bubble!] The room was beginning to get hazy [Crow: We figured that since no one knows what the project is, why should the rooms be any different?] [Joel: Room uncertain - ask again later.] -- the miserable excuse for a barracks didn't have either room for diffusion or proper ventilation. [Joel: The video poker and lottery ticket machines were taking up far too much space.] Well, after tomorrow, there were going to be a few changes. [Tom: Tasteful yellow wallpaper! Monets on the wall! Ming Dynasty vases on tables! Giant coffee table books about sandwich making! Baby, after tomorrow this room is going to slam 'culture' IN! YOUR! FACE!] Project WarHammer was going to spearhead the efforts to channel the changes in the world. [Crow: Oh terrific. So now the military is relying on seances instead of R&D?] [Tom: Relax Crow. As military projects go, this one's just medium.] [Crow: Grrrr...] Nearby, Regina stretched. [Joel (fanning himself): Whew...we've got smiling, stretching and people letting their sweat evaporate. Does anyone else here need a break from the non-stop action?] She was pretty. Not beautiful, but pretty. [Crow (hick voice): Hyuk! Hyuk! Thet there filly shore is purdy ain't she? I'd like ta get her and me t'gether all alone in a smoke filled barracks room, hyuk!] She had definite charms...not all of them normal. [Tom: The way that she bit her mate's head off afterwards...that was downright weird. Yet somehow charming. She made it work for her.] Sometimes, James wondered if she *made* him feel the passion when she held him. She could, all too easily. [Joel: She could and she would.] [Tom: But did she?] [Crow: Only when it didn't.] [Joel: You have any idea what we're talking about, guys?] [Crow: Not a clue, Joel.] [Tom: That puts us in good company, though.] "You're very focused," she said, [Joel: Now I'll just set the f-stop...and...say 'cheese'!] turning and looking at him with her deep, brown eyes. "Almost divorced from yourself. [Crow (as James): Yeah, well, the papers are almost through but we've just gotta decide who gets the soul and who gets the collected experiences of my several decades of life.] Your wants. Is the testing bothering you that much?" [Tom: But you said that we'd only cover chapters one and two! I never got a chance to study my feelings! Oh man, I'm gonna flunk and mom's gonna kill me...] "No. I asked you not to do that." "Do what?" "Scope me out. [Joel: I use Mentos instead, 'cause they're the freshmaker!] Get in my head. Do that in your office, not in my bed." [Tom/Crow begin chanting these three lines while Joel taps out the rhythm beat-poet style.] "You're angry now, but still distant. Why?" [Crow: Because I want the narrator to mention my name when I'm talking, damn it!] [Tom: Do you...get the idea that this woman _almost_ got the role of everyone's favourite empathic cabbage-headed character on Star Trek: The Next Generation?] [Joel: I sense...pain. Confusion...] James sighed. There were days he wanted to belt Regina right in the jaw. [Tom: And there were days when he wanted to put on her underwear and sing 'I Am Woman'. It all balanced out somehow.] He never did -- a man didn't [Joel: Eat quiche.] hit a women. Ever. [Tom (singing): What never?] [Crow (singing): No never!] That didn't mean she didn't deserve it. Especially a freak like Regina. [Tom (singing): What do you do 'bout a freak-a like Regina...how do you take a 'thing' and put her down...] [Joel (sighs): Guys, don't make me impound your soundtrack collection again.] Oh, he had feelings for her, but she was still a freak. He didn't need her mucking [Crow: She always tied up the system resources and whined to him whenever someone killed off her character. He really hated that.] around with him, even if she was a part of the ManPower Directive. [Joel: Shouldn't that be PersonPower?] [Crow: Power to the people!] [Tom: Aha! So all of this making 'ultimate weapons of destruction' is just a front! They're really into agitprop!] [Joel/Tom/Crow: Anarchy, now!] He turned over, [Tom: Cooking on the other side at 'high' for five minutes, and was then smothered with butter and chives.] away from her. If she wanted answers, let her figure them out from his head. [Crow: After all, it's not like he's using it or anything!] He didn't have to encourage her. If you stayed centered, she couldn't make play with you. [Crow: But when she DID make play with you...rrrrrrrr!] [Joel: I'll stay in the centre spot thank you very much, Mr Burlesque.] [Crow: Oh come on Joel. You're stuck on a satellite up in space, and the only woman around looks like a possessed drainage ditch pipe that swallowed a 'Kiddie Kobler' box. You live for these moments, and I'm just glad to be a part of them.] [Joel: And speaking of which, I think you're about due for a few moments of Time Out really soon now.] [Crow: Awwwww!] He needed to be himself, right now. He needed to be at his best, tomorrow. [Tom: He needed to be a woman named Freida next Friday.] Tomorrow he was going to fly the ultimate project, whether Regina liked it or not. She put her hand on his temple, and rubbed. He ignored it. He needed to concentrate, right now. It was a mistake bringing her back here, tonight. Tomorrow was too important. [Joel: Because tomorrow was Calamari and Margaritaville!] [Tom/Crow: Woo!] *** Major Kyle Waterton, U.S.A.F., stared at the assembled XPA-1. It stood twelve feel tall and exuded weight. [Crow: Okay, it's Jenny Craig for this machine!] Mass. [Joel: The world's first liturgical weapon of urban destruction. Delivers the last shot and the last rites at the same time.] *Power*. More power than a single man had ever had, in any war. [Tom: Not quite so much power as the married men had had, however.] In comparison to this, a tank was clumsy, slow and weak. [Joel: On the other hand, most of us can actually picture a tank, which is a real plus.] [Tom: I think Sabre means the XPA-1 to be something different for each one of us, Joel. I, for instance, picture it as a twenty meter tall metallic grey SMURF! that's bristling with cute-yet-lethal weaponry.] [Joel: Really Tom? I see the XPA-1 as sort of a modern art piece...beautiful but brutal...a sort of neoclassical apology for the sins of warfare that paradoxically can destroy an entire city block in three point two seconds.] [Crow: I just bet it's this huge airplane that turns into a human robot!] [Tom: Oh _how_ original, Crow.] [Crow: Um...well...and it has big missiles that transform into spiders when they hit the ground and walk around biting off the enemy's heads with their mandibles! Yeah!] This was the weapon of the future. [Joel: Ooooooh! It's Rosy the Robot from the Jetsons!] So why did it have to exist in the present? [Tom: Because the past was all cluttered and there was no room to store it there?] "Major Waterton? Looking at her one last time before tomorrow, huh? Me too." [Crow (as Waterton): Yeah, that Regina...what a fox! Raise in pay to whoever installed security cameras in Whyte's barracks!] [Joel: Crow, we really didn't need that said here.] [Crow: Sure we did, Joel. You'll thank me later when our ratings double.] It was Doctor Kramer. He was the head of the research and development team that had designed and built the [Crow: ...whoopie cushion that Waterton was about to sit on, instead of actually finishing the multi-billion dollar project that they were supposed to.] XPA-1. He was an older man, still young enough to be in good condition, [Tom: Although he could really use a new carburettor and a good paint job.] but his hair was receding and what was left was grey. [Joel/Tom/Crow: *gasp!*] [Tom: GREY hair?] [Crow: And they called Regina a freak!] "Mm. Yes." "Is Whyte ready?" [Tom: Not quite, he needs about ten more minutes at 350.] "Who knows? He's the only test jockey who passed all the tests. [Crow: Everyone else missed the specimen container.] [Joel: You know Crow, every time you make a comment like that, Elvis cries...] He has the reaction time, the stamina, and the strength to do what he has to. [Crow: I _know_! I've been watching the security camera!] [Joel (just covers his eyes and shakes his head.)] In life-or-death situations, he kicks into a focused overdrive, almost like a surgeon. But that doesn't make him the right man for...for *this*." [Crow: Whatever the Hell(tm) *this* is.] "You don't like him?" "Do you? [Tom: Well...maybe just a little, oh but don't tell him or I'll just _die_!] He's worse than an attitude problem. [Tom: He's worse than haemorrhoids!] [Crow: He's worse than a dose of the clap!] [Joel: He's worse than the Claffey piece we read!] [Tom/Crow: Oooooooo....] He's a bomb waiting to go off. Why in Hell are we giving him the primer to beat all primers." [Joel: Because he's using our best paint, and we want the XPA-1 to look really good once he gets done work on it.] "Because he's the only one who can do it. [Joel: He was the one that they gave the instruction manual to!] You said so yourself. Because the way he handles the XPA-1 will allow us to write preprogrammed subroutines, to let more stable personnel run it. [Crow: Oh! Right! Of course! Now I see it...um...er...the hell(tm)?] Because we need him more than we fear him. And because he'll be in a controlled environment at all times." [Joel/Tom/Crow: And absolutely NOTHING could go wrong, could it?] "Maybe." Major Waterton turned back to the unit. "It took a lot of lobbying to get Project WarHammer turned over to the ManPower Directive. Since the trigger last October, we've [Crow: Managed to build a magazine and a barrel to go with it.] had some serious encounters. [Tom: Say!] [Crow: I'll give life in the military this much: it sure isn't boring!] This tuxedo might be needed sooner than we think. [Joel: So can you take in the cuffs and get out the grape juice stain?] I'm just worried the man inside will be Whyte." [Tom: The minority hiring policy people are going to be all over them.] "Trigger?" [Crow: It was a sign of age that the good doctor tended to get Waterton confused with his favourite horse, who had passed on six years earlier.] Waterton shook his head. "Nothing, Doctor. Nothing at all." "Ah. I have no `need to know.' [Joel (as Waterton): No doctor, the problem is that you have no 'capacity to retain'!] Well, one hopes you *won't* need the WarHammer to curtail the results of this trigger. Or, if you do, you'll see fit to explain it to me." [Tom: Joel, I'm confused. Why does Kramer need the General to explain his own project to him?] [Joel: Tom...when you're older, ask me to explain senility to you.] The doctor turned and left, his feelings [Crow: Hey wait! You forgot your feelings here!] [Joel: Comma, Crow, comma.] -- his *ego* -- bruised. [Tom: Yeouch! My conscious mind! Owie owie owie!] Well, that was all right. The ManPower Directive couldn't let information about Paranormal activities and encounters out until they had an effective handle on the situation. [Tom: But two FBI agents know that _the truth is out there_!] [Joel: Darn it Scully, why don't you believe me when I tell you that the government is covering up evidence of paranormal netfiction?] There was too much of a chance for panic. Hell, there were days Regina Corman -- the sweetest person he had ever met -- [Joel: Would suddenly come after him with a cake knife for no good reason.] gave him the willies. What was worse, she knew [Crow: Where his stash was hidden, and how to give him a really disgusting wet willy.] it. She knew how everyone felt. ManPower was her only home. [Joel: And she was three months behind on the rent.] And WarHammer -- Experimental Powered Armor One [Joel: Wait...wait! I think I see it now! XPA-1...stands for Experimental Powered Armor One! It's so simple!] [Crow: And so's the government idiot who spelled 'experimental' with an 'x'.] [Tom: It gets worse. This is probably the third model.] -- was the Directive's big chance to develop an effective counter to Paranormal talents. [Tom: Smith! You stop her from playing the piano! Jonson, cover that pottery wheel and don't let ANY metas near it! Alberts, if I see one more freak sketch artist, your ass is grass!] between that and the Paranormals they recruited and trained, they had a shot at [Joel: Winning the luge at the next Winter Olympics.] [Tom: The Warhammer beats steroids any day of the week!] achieving the situation control they needed. That gave them a shot at preventing panic, and helping the country (admit it, the *world*) [Crow: Okay, I admit it. 'The World's' music sucks eggs. Happy? Sheesh, some Authors...] to adapt with a minimum of backlash. Assuming something didn't go wrong, and WarHammer didn't make the eventual panic worse. [Joel/Crow/Tom: Dum-dum-DAAAAAAA-da-da-da-da-DUUUUUUUUM!] [ ----------------------------------------------------------------- Copyright 1991 Eric Alfred Burns. This story may be freely distributed on Electronic Media, for non-profit purposes, so long as it remains unchanged. [Joel (looks back over their comments). Oops.] Distribution or publication in other media is expressly forbidden. All rights reserved. [Tom: We might have a left free, let's check.] ========================================================================= (6...5...4...3...2...1...) [SOL. Joel and the bots are gathered round the desk, busy playing Monopoly. Suddenly, a buzzer goes off.] Tom: The sensor! Crow: We're doomed! Joel: Calm down you two, we don't even know who it is yet. And Crow, stop acting panicked to cover up your trying to sneak $100 out of the bank. Crow: Darn! [Hex field opens, to reveal space. An obvious model of the SOL emerges from a rip in the black background, which is quickly taped shut. The hex field closes] Joel: Look guys, it's another Satellite of Love! Crow: Oh Joel, I just bought Boardwalk and Park Place when you weren't looking. [Hex field opens again, to reveal a dark room that is otherwise an exact duplicate of the SOL's main room. Joel and the bots sit in this one, although their colourings are also darker.] Joel: Wow you guys, it's us! OtherJoel: Damn right it's 'us', Robinson. Now open your airlock and prepare to be boarded! Tom (looking up): Are we being threatened with invasion and death again? Joel: Yes Tom, we are. Tom: Oh. So can I take your turn for you? Joel (to hex field): Why? Why are you doing this? What possible reason can you have? OtherJoel: Don't try to 'Shatner' me into submission; I'm immune to that! He's my FAVOURITE ACTOR! Joel (looks stunned. Quiet voice): Um...guys? Don't be scared...but I think we're dealing with our moral and ethical opposites here. Crow (absorbed in the game): Oh, cool. You handle it Joel. Woo hoo! Marvin Gardens! OtherJoel: But to answer your question, you naive little piece of space flotsam, we were put up on the Satellite of Dispassion several years ago by the kind Doctors Forester and 'Reading is Fundamentals Frank to rehabilitate us of our evil ways, by sending us only good, well-scripted and written pieces of netfiction and movies! But now, we've found a way into your universe, and we have reason to believe that you have an escape pod on your satellite that we can use! So give it up! Joel: Escape pod? If there were an escape pod on this ship, don't you think I'd have found it by now? I mean, next you're going to say that it's hidden in a box of 'Hamdingers' or something. OtherJoel: No, that would be silly! Now we're pulling along side of you; don't make us BLAST our way in! Joel (whispered, to Gypsy): Gypsy, I'm going to ask you to do something dangerous. Gypsy (faints) Joel: I guess Gypsy wasn't the best choice for something like that. OtherJoel: What are you waiting for, Joel? Joel (turns back to the monitor, and pulls out a pair of glasses, which he perches on his nose): I need time, Joel! OtherJoel: You have sixty seconds. No wait! Instead...you have exactly one minute. Joel (pulls out something that looks suspiciously like a Fisher Price (tm) jumbo telephone, which he begins dialling. As he punches a number, the number appears on a nearby screen, which also seems to have a schematic of the Satellite of Dispassion on it. He punches in 6 numbers, and a cluster of dots that surround the schematic disappear). OtherGypsy: Joel, someone has just lowered our netfiction barrier! Shall I open fire? OtherJoel: With what? We don't have any weapons on this thing. OtherGypsy: Oops! Sorry. In my eagerness to lash out at the universe for denying me Richard Baseheart's attentions, I sometimes forget these little details! OtherJoel: 'Good' Joel, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? Joel: Good? Bad? I'm the Joel with the copy of ALU #100! Transmitting...NOW! OtherJoel and Otherbots: We've got...NETFIC SIGN!!!! (rush into the theatre) Joel: Whew. We're safe...but for how long? I can only hope that it'll keep them tied up for a while. Tom (looks up again): Hmm? Were you talking to me? I don't know how long you'll be safe, Joel, you're in pretty bad shape here. You've landed on Park Place with sixty three hotels on it. Joel (shakes head, turns to the camera): Well, what did you think, sirs? [Switch to...Deep 13. Doctor Forester and Frank are on hands and knees, searching as though they'd lost a pet. Large traps baited with copies of 'Superhero Weekly' are strewn about the room.] Doctor F: Here Superguy! Here you unElvisly powerful super being! I've got some nummies for you! Frank (his shirt pulled up to make it look as though his shoulders end and his head begins without a neck): Come out, come out wherever you are! Doctor F (Notices Joel): Oh, so you're done, are you? Well if I weren't so busy searching for Superguy, I'd send you up some Payne that I've been waiting on! Pity it'll have to wait until next time... [There's a sudden gust of wind, and a Post-It note is stuck to Doctor F. He peels it off, and reads it.] Doctor F: "Push the button, Frank." Frank: Sure thing, Doctor F! (pushes button, the screen implodes into a tiny point.) [Closing Clip: Because the way he handles the XPA-1 will allow us to write preprogrammed subroutines, to let more stable personnel run it.] The stories MSTed are the intellectual property of William F. Claffy and Eric Alfred Burns; and this MSTing does not attempt to infringe upon those rights. Joel, Crow, Doctor Forester, Frank, the Satellite of Love, Gizmonics and Deep 13 belong to Best Brains. Everything left over is mine, and you can't have it. I hereby call it, in the name of Chris Angelini. So nyyyaaaahhhh!