Re: LAST. THING. STANDING. [S!1][ROUND ONE: TELEVISION LAND]
12-08-2011, 12:57 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Agent1022.
Aaron looked up at the camera, then wildly around – but there were no gray nothingnesses about. In fact, everything seemed relatively normal, though after Barry Barnes’ Shopping Network nightmare, a multicolored polar bear in a tutu performing Swan Lake would have seemed normal. Here, walls surrounded the room on all four sides, there was a ceiling and a floor, that while wet, was clearly not a stage. On the other hand, there was still a camera weaving about, balanced neatly on the shoulder of a scientist-looking type – specifically, the type that did very little actual science, opting instead to gad about with cameras to talk to the people who did. It paid well, at least, and Aaron could respect that. He found himself somewhat ignored, ironically the most normal thing in the room to have entered in the past few minutes, and so settled for just letting his eyes play about the scene before him.
Without knowing why, he reached out and pulled the albino-white jellyfish towards him, away from a particularly noxious oily patch seeping from the inky-black young…man?...still face down in the puddle. He examined the jellyfish closely, gingerly touching what he took to be its tentacles, then lifting its bulk with some difficulty -
The bipedal-sentient-with-riches suddenly gave off a sense of surprise as he in turn gave him the sense of thanks-for-aid. He found the bipedal-sentient-with-riches’ mind more open than the others somehow, as if its telepathy with the other sentient-of-riches had widened its receptive channels. Perhaps this receptivity would be of good use-
For the second time, Aaron reeled. The impressions came through the same pathway he associated with Change’s golden voice, except these were less than words, less than voice, and yet more. A clutch of eggs, a sphere of presences, of varying size but of similar-shape, in fact of similar-shape-to-self…self, self-identifier this-male-one-of-no-mother, and Aaron understood.
“Ni…”
Automatically, he tried to wrap his head around the jellyfish’s self-identity, around its – no, his – name, the impression of one-who-no-longer-moves of loss, a female and the-prey-too-skilled-to-catch for opportunities lost, a clutch of eggs again – and Aaron verbalized, it was on the tip of his tongue…
“…z...”
More ideas, impressions, pouring into his mind like water, and like water it took on the shape of its container.
“…zo? Nizzo? Is that your name?”
The impression of affirmation! <font color="#099999">The impressions that the bipedal-sentient-with riches seemed to convey properly the sense of his identity, of him, of-
And now, Nizzo, green dollar bills fluttered angrily, you leave my wizard alone.
<font color="#099999">“The researchers of Fjorn Lief’s laboratories are ecstatic to find that the curiously monetarily-formed lifeform is capable of communicating. Steve Chip takes it upon himself to make first contact with the only known specimen of Monetaria liefus, and to record the event on camera.”
Ignoring the Narrator’s cool Brittanic voice, Chip bent down to the floating cash’s level. “Do…you…understand…me?” he intoned, in that patronizing manner one reserves for the infirm and tourists who speak languages with differing alphabets. “Can…you…communicate…with me?”
Change whirled around, fixing the marine biologist with a faceless glare that knocked him, recoiling, butt-first into the water. My apologies for not sparing the time for your ridiculous ‘scientific’ moneymaking charade, but I <i>am currently engaged. However, since your attention is on me, let me firmly disabuse you of some assumptions. I am not the only one of my kind, I am not biologically sensible, and the being you assume to be reptilian in origin and essentially harmless is in fact pumped full of hallucinogenic paint and is in all likelihood sloughing off liquid psilocybin. Now, will you let me take care of my own affairs before poking that camera at me?</i></font>
Aaron watched in horror as the scientists panicked, running every which way like decapitated chickens, while the Narrator continued her calm exposition: “The scientists, upon discovery of the third specimen’s dangers, now analyze the situation in a careful and controlled manner. Note Dr. Lief’s response, whereupon he attempts to exit the room through the wall.”
“Change! What did you have to do that for?”
The Transaction brought itself up to head height, then slightly higher, as if assuming the superior position –Aaron, you are incredibly naïve to think you can just let anything, especially a competitor, in a battle to the death, play around in your mind and leave without consequences.
“NIzzo isn’t like that! He’s harmless!”
Is that a thought you had, or a thought Nizzo had for you?
Aaron flailed uselessly, shaking Nizzo somewhat disorientingly up and down. Then he glimpsed, behind the Transaction, the inky body of the other visitor pull upwards into a standing position, peering at the three of them with an appraising eye.
Tschichold examined the three contestants critically. Change was a colorfully complex green, which was fine enough. But the other two…Nizzo was a blank, unsettling white, but at least it was a uniform color, and at least somewhat suitable. But the wizard’s tattered, too-short grey robe, unwashed in places and too washed in others, places where even the grey had run out of the fabric…no. No no no no no. This would not do. He swiped a paintbrush along his shadowy side – navy blue, perfect – then silently advanced…
Put <i>down the jellyfish or buy it, Aaron.</i>
“But-but Change-”</font>
Spoiler
Aaron looked up at the camera, then wildly around – but there were no gray nothingnesses about. In fact, everything seemed relatively normal, though after Barry Barnes’ Shopping Network nightmare, a multicolored polar bear in a tutu performing Swan Lake would have seemed normal. Here, walls surrounded the room on all four sides, there was a ceiling and a floor, that while wet, was clearly not a stage. On the other hand, there was still a camera weaving about, balanced neatly on the shoulder of a scientist-looking type – specifically, the type that did very little actual science, opting instead to gad about with cameras to talk to the people who did. It paid well, at least, and Aaron could respect that. He found himself somewhat ignored, ironically the most normal thing in the room to have entered in the past few minutes, and so settled for just letting his eyes play about the scene before him.
Without knowing why, he reached out and pulled the albino-white jellyfish towards him, away from a particularly noxious oily patch seeping from the inky-black young…man?...still face down in the puddle. He examined the jellyfish closely, gingerly touching what he took to be its tentacles, then lifting its bulk with some difficulty -
The bipedal-sentient-with-riches suddenly gave off a sense of surprise as he in turn gave him the sense of thanks-for-aid. He found the bipedal-sentient-with-riches’ mind more open than the others somehow, as if its telepathy with the other sentient-of-riches had widened its receptive channels. Perhaps this receptivity would be of good use-
For the second time, Aaron reeled. The impressions came through the same pathway he associated with Change’s golden voice, except these were less than words, less than voice, and yet more. A clutch of eggs, a sphere of presences, of varying size but of similar-shape, in fact of similar-shape-to-self…self, self-identifier this-male-one-of-no-mother, and Aaron understood.
“Ni…”
Automatically, he tried to wrap his head around the jellyfish’s self-identity, around its – no, his – name, the impression of one-who-no-longer-moves of loss, a female and the-prey-too-skilled-to-catch for opportunities lost, a clutch of eggs again – and Aaron verbalized, it was on the tip of his tongue…
“…z...”
More ideas, impressions, pouring into his mind like water, and like water it took on the shape of its container.
“…zo? Nizzo? Is that your name?”
The impression of affirmation! <font color="#099999">The impressions that the bipedal-sentient-with riches seemed to convey properly the sense of his identity, of him, of-
And now, Nizzo, green dollar bills fluttered angrily, you leave my wizard alone.
<font color="#099999">“The researchers of Fjorn Lief’s laboratories are ecstatic to find that the curiously monetarily-formed lifeform is capable of communicating. Steve Chip takes it upon himself to make first contact with the only known specimen of Monetaria liefus, and to record the event on camera.”
Ignoring the Narrator’s cool Brittanic voice, Chip bent down to the floating cash’s level. “Do…you…understand…me?” he intoned, in that patronizing manner one reserves for the infirm and tourists who speak languages with differing alphabets. “Can…you…communicate…with me?”
Change whirled around, fixing the marine biologist with a faceless glare that knocked him, recoiling, butt-first into the water. My apologies for not sparing the time for your ridiculous ‘scientific’ moneymaking charade, but I <i>am currently engaged. However, since your attention is on me, let me firmly disabuse you of some assumptions. I am not the only one of my kind, I am not biologically sensible, and the being you assume to be reptilian in origin and essentially harmless is in fact pumped full of hallucinogenic paint and is in all likelihood sloughing off liquid psilocybin. Now, will you let me take care of my own affairs before poking that camera at me?</i></font>
Aaron watched in horror as the scientists panicked, running every which way like decapitated chickens, while the Narrator continued her calm exposition: “The scientists, upon discovery of the third specimen’s dangers, now analyze the situation in a careful and controlled manner. Note Dr. Lief’s response, whereupon he attempts to exit the room through the wall.”
“Change! What did you have to do that for?”
The Transaction brought itself up to head height, then slightly higher, as if assuming the superior position –Aaron, you are incredibly naïve to think you can just let anything, especially a competitor, in a battle to the death, play around in your mind and leave without consequences.
“NIzzo isn’t like that! He’s harmless!”
Is that a thought you had, or a thought Nizzo had for you?
Aaron flailed uselessly, shaking Nizzo somewhat disorientingly up and down. Then he glimpsed, behind the Transaction, the inky body of the other visitor pull upwards into a standing position, peering at the three of them with an appraising eye.
Tschichold examined the three contestants critically. Change was a colorfully complex green, which was fine enough. But the other two…Nizzo was a blank, unsettling white, but at least it was a uniform color, and at least somewhat suitable. But the wizard’s tattered, too-short grey robe, unwashed in places and too washed in others, places where even the grey had run out of the fabric…no. No no no no no. This would not do. He swiped a paintbrush along his shadowy side – navy blue, perfect – then silently advanced…
Put <i>down the jellyfish or buy it, Aaron.</i>
“But-but Change-”</font>
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So very British / But then again | People are machines Machines are people | Oh hai there | There's no time
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