Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 2] [Acidity City]
11-15-2011, 05:28 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Sawblade?
Whrrrrrr?
Sawblade, we have work to do.
Vrr vrrr, vrrrrrrrrrrr-r-r-r-r-r
Reaction time at about four-fifths capacity. Must have been the electrocution. Everything feels… sticky. VrrrrURRRRRRRRM Now let’s get to know the contestants a little better. Parsley, over commercial break you told me that you believe yourself to be possessed by a demon, is that correct? “That’s right, Gamehost Six” Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. There’s no such thing as demons. There is only me. VVVVRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
”Cut that out!”
The gamehost was being restrained. He did not appreciate this, but was not certain that it was grounds for elimination. “Question 37: Why should I?”
Contestant Number Tom seemed to consider this. ”Because human life has value?” offered his wife.
Analyzing: morgue costs + life insurance + slave market + necrophilia + prostitution + GDP + celebrity funerals + population inflation + national debt + social security + world’s oldest woman + subjective experience + heaven and hell (null) + hospital bills + existence of soul (null) + abortion + Dice of Death ratings + definition of ‘value’ (happiness/status/scarcity/societal construct) + minimum wage: “CORRECT. Technically. In the general case.”
”His life has value,” suggested Tom.
(Price of bread + multiversal transport costs + psychiatric bills + imminent doom + HE GOT THE QUESTION WRONG) “INCORRECT.” Six elbowed Tom aside and advanced sawblade-first, only to take an expertly-fired French loaf to the ankle and fall awkwardly to the floor of the RV. ”Hey! Watch the floor!” shouted Tom.
”Yer too far gone, Archibald,” sighed Parsley, standing over the gamehost with his crossbow. ”Shall I kill ye, then, if you will not see reason? Is that how ye’ll have it?”
Parsley had one boot-clad foot over his saw, but Six had other options. He warmed up his lapel-laser and fired—
And the laser reflected harmlessly, shooting out the wall of the vehicle.
That was the first odd thing. The second was that time had stopped. Parsley was frozen in a perpetual state of dismay, Tom was leaning winded against the dashboard, Clarice was indifferently rocking the baby—
The baby. The baby was still moving.
Blackness. Six found himself standing amidst what seemed an infinity of blackness. Without any other source of light, he fired his laser experimentally—
The laser bounced off the blackness at an angle only a few inches in front of him, then reflected again, and again, and again, trapping the gamehost in a cage of red light-beams that illuminated nothing. Mirrors—
Suddenly Six found himself in the RV—standing this time. Everything was still frozen; had their positions changed? Maybe slightly: a shift of weight in Parsley’s feet, Tom midway through inhaling instead of exhaling. And the baby was still moving, of course.
The baby looked at Six. ”xiS tsohemaG ,eeS?” she said, her voice mature and sultry. ”The abyss gazes also.”
Darkness again. Two Gamehosts Six faced each other from a distance of ten feet or so. “Question 38: Who are you?” they asked, their voices just asynchronous enough to reverberate slightly.
“I am Gamehost Six,” they responded to each other, a little uncertainly.
“INCORRECT.”
Back in the RV—had the number four been on his left side before, or had it always been on his right? ”I am Mirror,” explained Baby Emma (incorrect?) ”You who believe in nothing, question now my answer, and the answer is I, that is to say, you. There are grander games at play than yours, and you are no host here, but guest. When Calendar resumes, take this my current vessel and flee with it. Leave these people to their incorrectness for the time being and do as I say, and I will grant you the gift of untarnished, unwarped reflection. Know me, Six, and know yourself. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
Time restored. Left was again left, right was right, and wrong was wrong. The baby was crying.
* * * * *
Parsley stopped what he was doing and turned to the baby.
Clarice laid a finger on the baby’s cheek, singing comforts.
* * * * *
Tom composed himself and took a step towards the baby.
* * * * *
Six turned his head and cast his eye upon the baby. Thinking.
Sawblade?
Whrrrrrr?
Sawblade, we have work to do.
Vrr vrrr, vrrrrrrrrrrr-r-r-r-r-r
Reaction time at about four-fifths capacity. Must have been the electrocution. Everything feels… sticky. VrrrrURRRRRRRRM Now let’s get to know the contestants a little better. Parsley, over commercial break you told me that you believe yourself to be possessed by a demon, is that correct? “That’s right, Gamehost Six” Well, you couldn’t be more wrong. There’s no such thing as demons. There is only me. VVVVRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR
”Cut that out!”
The gamehost was being restrained. He did not appreciate this, but was not certain that it was grounds for elimination. “Question 37: Why should I?”
Contestant Number Tom seemed to consider this. ”Because human life has value?” offered his wife.
Analyzing: morgue costs + life insurance + slave market + necrophilia + prostitution + GDP + celebrity funerals + population inflation + national debt + social security + world’s oldest woman + subjective experience + heaven and hell (null) + hospital bills + existence of soul (null) + abortion + Dice of Death ratings + definition of ‘value’ (happiness/status/scarcity/societal construct) + minimum wage: “CORRECT. Technically. In the general case.”
”His life has value,” suggested Tom.
(Price of bread + multiversal transport costs + psychiatric bills + imminent doom + HE GOT THE QUESTION WRONG) “INCORRECT.” Six elbowed Tom aside and advanced sawblade-first, only to take an expertly-fired French loaf to the ankle and fall awkwardly to the floor of the RV. ”Hey! Watch the floor!” shouted Tom.
”Yer too far gone, Archibald,” sighed Parsley, standing over the gamehost with his crossbow. ”Shall I kill ye, then, if you will not see reason? Is that how ye’ll have it?”
Parsley had one boot-clad foot over his saw, but Six had other options. He warmed up his lapel-laser and fired—
And the laser reflected harmlessly, shooting out the wall of the vehicle.
That was the first odd thing. The second was that time had stopped. Parsley was frozen in a perpetual state of dismay, Tom was leaning winded against the dashboard, Clarice was indifferently rocking the baby—
The baby. The baby was still moving.
Blackness. Six found himself standing amidst what seemed an infinity of blackness. Without any other source of light, he fired his laser experimentally—
The laser bounced off the blackness at an angle only a few inches in front of him, then reflected again, and again, and again, trapping the gamehost in a cage of red light-beams that illuminated nothing. Mirrors—
Suddenly Six found himself in the RV—standing this time. Everything was still frozen; had their positions changed? Maybe slightly: a shift of weight in Parsley’s feet, Tom midway through inhaling instead of exhaling. And the baby was still moving, of course.
The baby looked at Six. ”xiS tsohemaG ,eeS?” she said, her voice mature and sultry. ”The abyss gazes also.”
Darkness again. Two Gamehosts Six faced each other from a distance of ten feet or so. “Question 38: Who are you?” they asked, their voices just asynchronous enough to reverberate slightly.
“I am Gamehost Six,” they responded to each other, a little uncertainly.
“INCORRECT.”
Back in the RV—had the number four been on his left side before, or had it always been on his right? ”I am Mirror,” explained Baby Emma (incorrect?) ”You who believe in nothing, question now my answer, and the answer is I, that is to say, you. There are grander games at play than yours, and you are no host here, but guest. When Calendar resumes, take this my current vessel and flee with it. Leave these people to their incorrectness for the time being and do as I say, and I will grant you the gift of untarnished, unwarped reflection. Know me, Six, and know yourself. Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”
Time restored. Left was again left, right was right, and wrong was wrong. The baby was crying.
* * * * *
Parsley stopped what he was doing and turned to the baby.
Clarice laid a finger on the baby’s cheek, singing comforts.
* * * * *
Tom composed himself and took a step towards the baby.
* * * * *
Six turned his head and cast his eye upon the baby. Thinking.