Re: The Spectacular Exhibition (S3G2) [Round 2: Space - Abridged]
10-27-2011, 10:11 PM
Originally posted on MSPA by Schazer.
"Ok, Red, here's the plan. You cauterise the feet off anyone who comes down that ladder, and I'll plot a course for some of those rocks up there. Sound good?"
Red didn't have any reservations about fulfilling his end of the bargain. Yet.
"Leave the planet with my kin on it be."
"But I'm pretty sure I could just run that into that water pla-"
"No."
Brooklyn would've shrugged, then grinned. "Whatever you say." She unsnapped her blowtorch with a noise like knuckles cracking, then jabbed the console with the end which wouldn't torch it.
---
The city-planetoid of Hoofstad was more of an overinflated cube (three ring roads circumscribing the "globe", plus the twelve "edge" roads), which made a perverse sense to Brooklyn. The whole mindset she was gleaning – from the bunker in which she and Red were trespassing –smacked of a self-righteous geocentrism which a 20th-century scientist like Brooklyn could only chuckle at.
Brooklyn didn't actually like computers all that much, if she was going to be honest. Sure, they might've been able to figure out all manner of things which would've taken far too much of someone or another's time otherwise, but she'd never been awed with the fruits of a computer program the same way a nice suspension bridge or locomotive or wind turbine did no, don't mind me, Red, just talking to myself yes I will tell you as soon as I've figured out how to control these planets.
The 3D map projected itself up and around Brooklyn, bathing the haunted chainsaw in a wavering, watery glow that was nothing like water and more like a concerted attempt by a future she didn't rightly belong in to drown her. The whole display hummed with claustrophobia and the reminder the ghost was entombed deep underground, in a planet knocked adrift by a vagrant rock or reptomammal (not that Red had spotted the aardvark; else he would've been sensible enough to not help Brooklyn celebrate her new voice by following her orders to the centre of this planetoid). Or maybe it was just fluorescent lighting. Those had always given Brooklyn headaches.
The guard Red had rather forcibly dissuaded from using his firearms groaned gently in a corner. Brooklyn still had no idea what to do with him. Her blowtorch twitched mindless metronomic like a conductor's baton, a lousy substitute for drumming her fingers. She rumbled, glanced to the irritatingly fretful lobster, and then must've pressed a button.
That was to say, she dealt the keyboard a staccato report which mashed no fewer than twelve different keys. Brooklyn would later claim she knew what she was doing.
---
On Hoofstad (as opposed to, say, within it), Tria had clambered and scrambled to the roof of an apartment block. Gripping the railing with one good hand, she hopped up and down a bit, the occasional crackling complaint emanating from her arm.
The gravity was weaker the higher up she went. Which didn't make all that much sense, but Tria wasn't going to question it. She stared into black space, not-all-that-suddenly uncertain about whether this was a good idea or not. A blue sphere nosed its way from the right-hand edge of the sky as Tria watched, cruising overhead into tandem with an oncoming purple rock-
"-found it, what just happened? Is there some kind of- of rewind on this? Hold on, my nephew said undo on a computer was control and, um… Z? Red, I'm going to need an extra hand- uh, well, look, you know what I meant. Just hold that key there-"
Tria (and everyone else on Hoofstad) heard some clanging, like metal footsteps on a bunker floor.
"There is red light on panel. Was not on before."
"Eurgh, I can't see that kind of thing, Red, how big is it?"
"Small."
"Um… it's a… recording? Device?" Tria didn't recognise either of the voices, although both were rough and tinny, like speakers played through speakers. "Look, I'll test it. Hello? Hello? Um… Does anyone read me? Over and out? Just, um. Don't mind us! We'll be out of here just as soon as we know what we're doing, and oh no wait hang on, Red, that doesn’t look good-"
Whatever had hijacked the loudspeakers on every street corner was cut off by a cataclysmic boom and shudder. A fish from the first planetary collision fell with a wet slap on the roof beside Tria.
"What did you do!?"
"I didn't- I didn't realise this one was moving!" wailed Brooklyn. "That moon snuck up on us- I mean, well, technically, we snuck up on it, I suppose but-"
"Well fix it! Hearing people above!"
"Uh, um, look, if anyone can hear us, I'm going to fix this!"
Beeping. Clanging. A growl of warning, cut off by an incredulous expletive. Shots fired. Chainsaws and men, screaming. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"
"Ok, Red, here's the plan. You cauterise the feet off anyone who comes down that ladder, and I'll plot a course for some of those rocks up there. Sound good?"
Red didn't have any reservations about fulfilling his end of the bargain. Yet.
"Leave the planet with my kin on it be."
"But I'm pretty sure I could just run that into that water pla-"
"No."
Brooklyn would've shrugged, then grinned. "Whatever you say." She unsnapped her blowtorch with a noise like knuckles cracking, then jabbed the console with the end which wouldn't torch it.
---
The city-planetoid of Hoofstad was more of an overinflated cube (three ring roads circumscribing the "globe", plus the twelve "edge" roads), which made a perverse sense to Brooklyn. The whole mindset she was gleaning – from the bunker in which she and Red were trespassing –smacked of a self-righteous geocentrism which a 20th-century scientist like Brooklyn could only chuckle at.
Brooklyn didn't actually like computers all that much, if she was going to be honest. Sure, they might've been able to figure out all manner of things which would've taken far too much of someone or another's time otherwise, but she'd never been awed with the fruits of a computer program the same way a nice suspension bridge or locomotive or wind turbine did no, don't mind me, Red, just talking to myself yes I will tell you as soon as I've figured out how to control these planets.
The 3D map projected itself up and around Brooklyn, bathing the haunted chainsaw in a wavering, watery glow that was nothing like water and more like a concerted attempt by a future she didn't rightly belong in to drown her. The whole display hummed with claustrophobia and the reminder the ghost was entombed deep underground, in a planet knocked adrift by a vagrant rock or reptomammal (not that Red had spotted the aardvark; else he would've been sensible enough to not help Brooklyn celebrate her new voice by following her orders to the centre of this planetoid). Or maybe it was just fluorescent lighting. Those had always given Brooklyn headaches.
The guard Red had rather forcibly dissuaded from using his firearms groaned gently in a corner. Brooklyn still had no idea what to do with him. Her blowtorch twitched mindless metronomic like a conductor's baton, a lousy substitute for drumming her fingers. She rumbled, glanced to the irritatingly fretful lobster, and then must've pressed a button.
That was to say, she dealt the keyboard a staccato report which mashed no fewer than twelve different keys. Brooklyn would later claim she knew what she was doing.
---
On Hoofstad (as opposed to, say, within it), Tria had clambered and scrambled to the roof of an apartment block. Gripping the railing with one good hand, she hopped up and down a bit, the occasional crackling complaint emanating from her arm.
The gravity was weaker the higher up she went. Which didn't make all that much sense, but Tria wasn't going to question it. She stared into black space, not-all-that-suddenly uncertain about whether this was a good idea or not. A blue sphere nosed its way from the right-hand edge of the sky as Tria watched, cruising overhead into tandem with an oncoming purple rock-
"-found it, what just happened? Is there some kind of- of rewind on this? Hold on, my nephew said undo on a computer was control and, um… Z? Red, I'm going to need an extra hand- uh, well, look, you know what I meant. Just hold that key there-"
Tria (and everyone else on Hoofstad) heard some clanging, like metal footsteps on a bunker floor.
"There is red light on panel. Was not on before."
"Eurgh, I can't see that kind of thing, Red, how big is it?"
"Small."
"Um… it's a… recording? Device?" Tria didn't recognise either of the voices, although both were rough and tinny, like speakers played through speakers. "Look, I'll test it. Hello? Hello? Um… Does anyone read me? Over and out? Just, um. Don't mind us! We'll be out of here just as soon as we know what we're doing, and oh no wait hang on, Red, that doesn’t look good-"
Whatever had hijacked the loudspeakers on every street corner was cut off by a cataclysmic boom and shudder. A fish from the first planetary collision fell with a wet slap on the roof beside Tria.
"What did you do!?"
"I didn't- I didn't realise this one was moving!" wailed Brooklyn. "That moon snuck up on us- I mean, well, technically, we snuck up on it, I suppose but-"
"Well fix it! Hearing people above!"
"Uh, um, look, if anyone can hear us, I'm going to fix this!"
Beeping. Clanging. A growl of warning, cut off by an incredulous expletive. Shots fired. Chainsaws and men, screaming. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-"
peace to the unsung peace to the martyrs | i'm johnny rotten appleseed
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow
clouds is shaky love | broke as hell but i got a bunch of ringtones
eyes blood red bruise aubergine | Sue took something now Sue doesn't sleep | saint average, day in the life of
woke up in the noon smelling doom and death | out the house, great outdoors
staying warm in arctic blizzard | that's my battle 'til I get inanimate | still up in the same clothes living like a gameshow