Re: Petty Squabble [ROUND 2] [Acidity City]
11-16-2011, 01:08 AM
Originally posted on MSPA by TimeothyHour.
Six’s head turned slowly, for his single lens to capture the baby in full. The system was still… sticky, and thus the head simply moved in regular increments, each one making a particularly loud and unsetting click. The tension in the room was like a lens, focusing focusing focusing in on baby Emma, the resulting ray of consciousness strong enough that he wouldn’t be able to get away with just straight up taking the baby.
But he needed that baby. He needed it more than anything in the world.
In the space of moments, he flipped through a few strategies, RV schematics, and bread recipes, to no avail. He calculated trajectories, likely paths to be taken based on human psychology, and physically possible methods of attack via these strategies. It didn’t ever seem to quite add up. There were too many variables, too much of a possibility of an unmerited killing one of the contestants.
The tension was still as thick as ever, perhaps even more so.
Six recalculated everything. Her started from basics, target positions. Tom was to his left. Parsley was to his right. Clarice was in front, holding the less-than-five (baby, he reminded himself), and was trying her best to stop the child’s wailing. That particular set up could result in a variety of-
Wait.
Tom to the left. Parsley to the right. Clarice in front, holding the baby.
Tom to the left. Parsley to the right. Clarice in front, holding the baby.
No one was driving.
No one was driving.
The plan was calculated almost instantly, and with a SNAP-TENSION-POP he sparked forward, ducking under Tom’s lunge (who was almost certain the robot was going to go straight for his wife, the nerve), and effectively tripping everyone up enough that he managed to hop into the seat of the RV, turn the key, and send the vehicle barreling off at a speed ninety-seven miles (156.106368 kilometers) per hour.
Now, Six wasn’t designed to drive. He hadn’t ever driven before, although he had read how to in books (which anyone will tell you is a completely different experience altogether). Additionally, with the saw blade, he effectively had one only hand to drive, which wouldn’t be as much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact he only had one eye, significantly decreasing his level or perception regarding the road. Furthermore, Gamehost Six was also a completely bat-insane game show robot. Obviously, it isn’t hard to conclude the result of his foray into the automotive world.
The RV crashed.
Considering the circumstances, the crash could have been much worse. The RV wasn’t totaled, just a few dents or scratches, maybe a plumming or engine problem or two that would have to be worked out later. But, in that moment where the RV was lurching, partway in the air, as if by fate (INCORRECT) or god (INCORRECT) or chance (CORRECT), Emma, young, glorious Emma, slipped from Clarice’s hands.
Six, perceptive as he was, bounded out of the chair, readied his single, gloved hand, and, making calculations on the fly, caught the baby, softly, perfectly, a near replica copy of the way OBLONGBALL™ masters caught tricky passes. The robot was quite proud of it, actually.
And then, he and the baby, for a moment, were suspended in an eternity, everything floating in Zero G. Six looked into the baby’s eyes, deep, infinite wells that sang songs like fire, songs like redemption and salvation and the way of God leading up to the mount of heaven and there is Jesus and Buddha and Nietzsche and oh what a lovely banquet you’ve prepared for us. (NONE OF THIS EXISTS.)
The less-than-five (Baby. It’s a baby.) stopped crying. The RV settled down, and before anyone could react, Six was out the door, out of the presence of these humans tarnished with adulthood, and into the night, deep and sweet and manifold.
Six’s head turned slowly, for his single lens to capture the baby in full. The system was still… sticky, and thus the head simply moved in regular increments, each one making a particularly loud and unsetting click. The tension in the room was like a lens, focusing focusing focusing in on baby Emma, the resulting ray of consciousness strong enough that he wouldn’t be able to get away with just straight up taking the baby.
But he needed that baby. He needed it more than anything in the world.
In the space of moments, he flipped through a few strategies, RV schematics, and bread recipes, to no avail. He calculated trajectories, likely paths to be taken based on human psychology, and physically possible methods of attack via these strategies. It didn’t ever seem to quite add up. There were too many variables, too much of a possibility of an unmerited killing one of the contestants.
The tension was still as thick as ever, perhaps even more so.
Six recalculated everything. Her started from basics, target positions. Tom was to his left. Parsley was to his right. Clarice was in front, holding the less-than-five (baby, he reminded himself), and was trying her best to stop the child’s wailing. That particular set up could result in a variety of-
Wait.
Tom to the left. Parsley to the right. Clarice in front, holding the baby.
Tom to the left. Parsley to the right. Clarice in front, holding the baby.
No one was driving.
No one was driving.
The plan was calculated almost instantly, and with a SNAP-TENSION-POP he sparked forward, ducking under Tom’s lunge (who was almost certain the robot was going to go straight for his wife, the nerve), and effectively tripping everyone up enough that he managed to hop into the seat of the RV, turn the key, and send the vehicle barreling off at a speed ninety-seven miles (156.106368 kilometers) per hour.
Now, Six wasn’t designed to drive. He hadn’t ever driven before, although he had read how to in books (which anyone will tell you is a completely different experience altogether). Additionally, with the saw blade, he effectively had one only hand to drive, which wouldn’t be as much of a problem if it weren’t for the fact he only had one eye, significantly decreasing his level or perception regarding the road. Furthermore, Gamehost Six was also a completely bat-insane game show robot. Obviously, it isn’t hard to conclude the result of his foray into the automotive world.
The RV crashed.
Considering the circumstances, the crash could have been much worse. The RV wasn’t totaled, just a few dents or scratches, maybe a plumming or engine problem or two that would have to be worked out later. But, in that moment where the RV was lurching, partway in the air, as if by fate (INCORRECT) or god (INCORRECT) or chance (CORRECT), Emma, young, glorious Emma, slipped from Clarice’s hands.
Six, perceptive as he was, bounded out of the chair, readied his single, gloved hand, and, making calculations on the fly, caught the baby, softly, perfectly, a near replica copy of the way OBLONGBALL™ masters caught tricky passes. The robot was quite proud of it, actually.
And then, he and the baby, for a moment, were suspended in an eternity, everything floating in Zero G. Six looked into the baby’s eyes, deep, infinite wells that sang songs like fire, songs like redemption and salvation and the way of God leading up to the mount of heaven and there is Jesus and Buddha and Nietzsche and oh what a lovely banquet you’ve prepared for us. (NONE OF THIS EXISTS.)
The less-than-five (Baby. It’s a baby.) stopped crying. The RV settled down, and before anyone could react, Six was out the door, out of the presence of these humans tarnished with adulthood, and into the night, deep and sweet and manifold.