Re: Mini-Grand 5104 (Round 1: Parliament)
07-12-2011, 05:51 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Lord Paradise.
Hector nearly had a panic attack upon entering the office and seeing the triangularly symmetric porous green creature hunched over a primitive-looking laptop. Nearly, but not quite.
Feeling that surge of panic, brief though it was, frightened him more than anything—this place was antiquated enough that crash clowns and stress surgeons probably didn’t exist yet. He remembered hearing in a class that in the late planetary epoch, stress-related deaths were unheard of, yet everyone went around dying of physiological ailments and invasions by microscopic nonhumans. Funny the way things balance out.
The porous thing seemed unperturbed by Hector’s entrance. “You!” it said. “Are your memories intact?”
Well that was a frightening thought. “I think so,” he told the thing, the left half of his brain a bit dazed from the surreality of it all.
“You seem coherent,” said the thing. Where was the sound coming from? It clearly had no mouth. “I’ve been getting reports of mass amnesia in the new wing. Someone in the gladiatorial coalition must be trying for a filibuster by enforced incompetence! Oldest trick in the book, but I figured they’d wait until session started. You’re not with the gladiatorials, are you? Tracking grass into my office and trying to silence me?”
Hector looked down at his feet. So that’s grass, he reasoned. I’m going to need to learn more of these words. “Sorry about the grass,” he told the thing. “I have a condition. And no, I’m not with any coalition. I’m new here.”
“Here for the internship? Well, it’s yours, if you can restore order around here. We need this vote to go down today, while the media’s still on us.”
Hector nodded and rushed out the door, trailing some tiny many-legged creatures around his ankles. He whirled around. “Sir… it is ‘sir,’ right?”
“’Sir’ will suffice in common parlance if not in the legal documentation, yes.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what are we voting on that’s so important?”
The porous thing made a whooshing noise that was presumably equivalent to laughter. “Why, the Sivlup bill, m’boy! We’re going to make multiversal fights to the death completely illegal throughout our considerable sphere of influence. I trust you won’t let your own feelings on the matter get in the way of your job. Interns should be completely omnipartisan, I always say, and only reveal their sinister intentions when they find themselves holding all the cards. That’s how I made my way.”
Outlawing multiversal fights to the death. Hector could get behind that. “I’m on it, sir,” he said, walking out into the hall.
It was at this point that Hector recognized the problems inherent to his situation. Where was the new wing? And how was he supposed to cure mass amnesiacs? One of the flying black creatures cawwed. Rather than an answer to his questions, Hector suspected the poor thing was begging for food.
Hector nearly had a panic attack upon entering the office and seeing the triangularly symmetric porous green creature hunched over a primitive-looking laptop. Nearly, but not quite.
Feeling that surge of panic, brief though it was, frightened him more than anything—this place was antiquated enough that crash clowns and stress surgeons probably didn’t exist yet. He remembered hearing in a class that in the late planetary epoch, stress-related deaths were unheard of, yet everyone went around dying of physiological ailments and invasions by microscopic nonhumans. Funny the way things balance out.
The porous thing seemed unperturbed by Hector’s entrance. “You!” it said. “Are your memories intact?”
Well that was a frightening thought. “I think so,” he told the thing, the left half of his brain a bit dazed from the surreality of it all.
“You seem coherent,” said the thing. Where was the sound coming from? It clearly had no mouth. “I’ve been getting reports of mass amnesia in the new wing. Someone in the gladiatorial coalition must be trying for a filibuster by enforced incompetence! Oldest trick in the book, but I figured they’d wait until session started. You’re not with the gladiatorials, are you? Tracking grass into my office and trying to silence me?”
Hector looked down at his feet. So that’s grass, he reasoned. I’m going to need to learn more of these words. “Sorry about the grass,” he told the thing. “I have a condition. And no, I’m not with any coalition. I’m new here.”
“Here for the internship? Well, it’s yours, if you can restore order around here. We need this vote to go down today, while the media’s still on us.”
Hector nodded and rushed out the door, trailing some tiny many-legged creatures around his ankles. He whirled around. “Sir… it is ‘sir,’ right?”
“’Sir’ will suffice in common parlance if not in the legal documentation, yes.”
“Sir, if you don’t mind me asking, what are we voting on that’s so important?”
The porous thing made a whooshing noise that was presumably equivalent to laughter. “Why, the Sivlup bill, m’boy! We’re going to make multiversal fights to the death completely illegal throughout our considerable sphere of influence. I trust you won’t let your own feelings on the matter get in the way of your job. Interns should be completely omnipartisan, I always say, and only reveal their sinister intentions when they find themselves holding all the cards. That’s how I made my way.”
Outlawing multiversal fights to the death. Hector could get behind that. “I’m on it, sir,” he said, walking out into the hall.
It was at this point that Hector recognized the problems inherent to his situation. Where was the new wing? And how was he supposed to cure mass amnesiacs? One of the flying black creatures cawwed. Rather than an answer to his questions, Hector suspected the poor thing was begging for food.