Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 1] [Fort Ayers, New Atlantis]
09-05-2011, 09:19 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by MalkyTop.
Carnea circled around and around, contentedly leering at this metal soldier from all sides.
Although her certainly was plenty different from the other metal soldiers. Maybe she shouldn’t even call it a ‘soldier’ to begin with. For one thing, it talked. The other metal soldiers she found weren’t very talkative at all. For another, it seemed to be very knowledgeable, almost like a droke. A droke that doatched quite a bit, a sort of…reverse droke, maybe. Violent as well. Maybe she would have to make up a new word for this sort of being…something to think about later.
As she watched the metal soldier work, she could see his essence, his skade. It rolled and tumbled in a sphere, twisting, turning, like a clothes dryer, if Carnea knew what that was. It was large. It contained his fesh, his sense of self and duty, bright and strong and sure. It contained his juffet, his mind, his knowledge, taut and bursting, held together with a miracle. How could anybody know so much and yet not be a god?
Carnea saw it and wanted to have it.
But much more than that,
She wanted to break it.
She wanted his fesh to grow dim and snuff out. She wanted his juffet to burst, its contents pooling and squirming uselessly into the ether. She wanted to watch his skade grow still and unnervingly calm, and she wanted to see the soldier-droke lose it all. Because things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…
And if she were not the cause of that, why, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
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The wound stayed.
There were no prepared prosthetics that Six could attach to the arm, no way he could do anything besides stop the bleeding and close the wound somehow, but the wound stayed. Six slowed the flow of blood by tying a piece of cloth around the stump and cauterized the wound, but the blood continued, it broke through the coagulating layer on top and continued, spilling onto the table, onto the useless device the robot had swept off not so long ago. He tried to clean the wound and start over, but it wasn’t long before the blood was everywhere again and it wouldn’t stop and at least the contestant had long ago lost consciousness. He tried to tie the blood vessels off but they simply opened again, revealing more blood, more and more blood…
Six stoically smoothed off the jagged bone before trying to cauterize the stump again. He tried to stitch it. He tried to staple it. Even if it had succeeded, the man would probably suffer from severe infection, but it didn’t matter, he only had to live until he got a question wrong.
The blood kept coming.
The blood kept coming, until it finally stopped, because there was no point for a dead man to bleed.
Six stopped. There was similarly no point for a surgeon to mourn the dead.
But the show. How could the show go on? The show was ruined. He died at the wrong time. The host broke the rules. He broke the rules the rules the rules you can’t break the rules you shouldn’t be able to break the rules it simply wasn’t possible you were programmed to not break the rules it’s not possible can’t be the contestant is not dead Question 22: Question 22: Question 22: Contestant are you dead Contestant answer the question answer the question answer it answer it ANSWER IT
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It would have to be a long-term project. But really, if you were not willing to spend a little time on these things, then you simply were not fit for this kind of work.
Carnea left. She would have to get back to the metal soldier later. As fun as important projects were, she couldn’t attend to one all the time. That would make her a babysitter and gods forbid she become that.
Carnea circled around and around, contentedly leering at this metal soldier from all sides.
Although her certainly was plenty different from the other metal soldiers. Maybe she shouldn’t even call it a ‘soldier’ to begin with. For one thing, it talked. The other metal soldiers she found weren’t very talkative at all. For another, it seemed to be very knowledgeable, almost like a droke. A droke that doatched quite a bit, a sort of…reverse droke, maybe. Violent as well. Maybe she would have to make up a new word for this sort of being…something to think about later.
As she watched the metal soldier work, she could see his essence, his skade. It rolled and tumbled in a sphere, twisting, turning, like a clothes dryer, if Carnea knew what that was. It was large. It contained his fesh, his sense of self and duty, bright and strong and sure. It contained his juffet, his mind, his knowledge, taut and bursting, held together with a miracle. How could anybody know so much and yet not be a god?
Carnea saw it and wanted to have it.
But much more than that,
She wanted to break it.
She wanted his fesh to grow dim and snuff out. She wanted his juffet to burst, its contents pooling and squirming uselessly into the ether. She wanted to watch his skade grow still and unnervingly calm, and she wanted to see the soldier-droke lose it all. Because things fall apart; the centre cannot hold; mere anarchy is loosed upon the world…
And if she were not the cause of that, why, she wouldn’t be able to live with herself.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The wound stayed.
There were no prepared prosthetics that Six could attach to the arm, no way he could do anything besides stop the bleeding and close the wound somehow, but the wound stayed. Six slowed the flow of blood by tying a piece of cloth around the stump and cauterized the wound, but the blood continued, it broke through the coagulating layer on top and continued, spilling onto the table, onto the useless device the robot had swept off not so long ago. He tried to clean the wound and start over, but it wasn’t long before the blood was everywhere again and it wouldn’t stop and at least the contestant had long ago lost consciousness. He tried to tie the blood vessels off but they simply opened again, revealing more blood, more and more blood…
Six stoically smoothed off the jagged bone before trying to cauterize the stump again. He tried to stitch it. He tried to staple it. Even if it had succeeded, the man would probably suffer from severe infection, but it didn’t matter, he only had to live until he got a question wrong.
The blood kept coming.
The blood kept coming, until it finally stopped, because there was no point for a dead man to bleed.
Six stopped. There was similarly no point for a surgeon to mourn the dead.
But the show. How could the show go on? The show was ruined. He died at the wrong time. The host broke the rules. He broke the rules the rules the rules you can’t break the rules you shouldn’t be able to break the rules it simply wasn’t possible you were programmed to not break the rules it’s not possible can’t be the contestant is not dead Question 22: Question 22: Question 22: Contestant are you dead Contestant answer the question answer the question answer it answer it ANSWER IT
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It would have to be a long-term project. But really, if you were not willing to spend a little time on these things, then you simply were not fit for this kind of work.
Carnea left. She would have to get back to the metal soldier later. As fun as important projects were, she couldn’t attend to one all the time. That would make her a babysitter and gods forbid she become that.