Mobius Twist 03/14/2012
From inside the brig of the Serengeti, the House of Unified Systems Desert Class explorer, Captain Volikk awaited death. Outspoken by his first commander, who Volikk now realized was a spy from the Neela government who had been sowing seeds of deceit among his crew from the moment the expedition left Mars. The buds of those seeds had blossomed, and fruited into an all out mutiny the moment he decided to turn back. The Serengeti had been sent to examine what looked like a wormhole that could only be seen with ghost-scanners. The Martian scientists had speculated that they had discovered a naturally occurring numinous gateway, but as Volikk approached he was gripped with an unshakable fear. A fear that continued to grow as they resumed course. Still two days from the wormhole the former captain could feel the dreaded hole drawing closer. On the bridge the communications lieutenant turned to the first commander and said, “Captain Daxini, there’s a ship approaching at twelve ‘o’ clock. It’s—that can’t be right. It’s a House of Unified Systems Desert class explorer.” “Impossible. Our Serengeti here is the only Desert class the House has built, and we’re way outside charted space. The Serengeti is the only ship with the capability to venture out this far.” “Could there have been a secret mission that preceded ours? Maybe they sent something out that never came back. Captain, they’re hailing us!” “Open communication. I want to find out what’s going on here.” “Aye sir, opening channel.” When the comm. lieutenant gave him the signal, the captain began, “This is Captain Daxini, of the H.U.S.S. Serengeti. Identify yourself.” "Greetings Captain Daxini, this is Captain Volikk, also of the H.U.S.S. Serengeti.” The voice and image that returned to them was identical to the man they had sent to the brig. In an instant the crew of the original Serengeti realized the truth behind their captain’s words, which at the time has seemed like empty threats. This Neela first commander was a spy. Thinking that his true captain, Volikk had set up this elaborate sting, the lieutenant commander drew his sidearm and aimed it at Daxini. "Captain Volikk,” he said through the intercom. “This man has committed mutiny and forced us, through his rank, to turn against you.” The Captain of the H.U.S.S Serengeti that had approached them looked confused. “Permission to come aboard,” he said. After Captain Volikk boarded, he read Daxini his rights and a pair of heavily armed guards escorted the mutineer to the brig, where they found another version of Captain Volikk awaiting trial. “It’s you,” said one Captain to the other. “You’re the thing I’ve been so afraid to encounter,” the second Volikk said, finishing the thought. “I let fear get the best of me,” said the imprisoned Volikk. “I didn’t.”  “Captain Volikk, there’s a ship approaching at twelve ‘o’ clock. It’s—that can’t be right. It’s a House of Unified Systems Desert class explorer.” “Impossible. Our Serengeti here is the only Desert class the House has built, and we’re way outside charted space. The Serengeti is the only ship with the capability to venture out this far.” “Could there have been a secret mission that preceded ours? Maybe they sent something out that never came back. Captain, they’re hailing us!” “Open communication. I want to find out what’s going on here.” “Aye sir. Opening channel.” When the comm. officer gave him the signal, the captain began, “This is Captain Volikk, of the HUS Serengeti. Identify yourself.” The voice and video that returned to them was identical to the one they had sent, “Greetings Captain Volikk, this is also Captain Volikk, of the HUS Serengeti. Don’t be alarmed. This same thing happened to us when we were exactly where you are now,” said a Captain who was a twin of the frist. “This is ridiculous! Impersonating a HUS employee is an international crime. End this farce and identify yourself!” The twin said, “I know it’s hard to believe, but you have to trust me. I said that exact thing when I was in your position four days ago.” “What?!” “I said the same thing you just did the first time we encountered another Serengeti.” “Are you telling me that you’ve passed more than one?” “Yes, you are the second. I’m sending you a copy of my ship’s records. From them you will be able to see our video log of the first Serengeti’s approach. ” “Captain, we’ve uploaded the ship’s records. Reviewing… His is story checks out. That’s weird: according to their computer, this record is roughly four days old, it’s dated Dec 19th.” Volikk looked at the clock just as it flicked to 12:14, then to the calendar: it was indeed the 19th of December 2061. “This proves nothing; any of these could be easily falsified! What is your real name?” “I assure you, I am Captain Patrick Edmond Volikk, age 46. You and your mother are both Gemini, there’s a scar on your left foot, and when you were seven… well, lets just say something embarrassing happened to you that you’ve never told anyone about.” Captain Volikk muted the conversation and covered his mouth. “Lieutenant, arm warheads and lock on target.” The twin captain looked concerned, “Patrick, I can’t hear you…” “FIRE!”  Captain Volikk muted the conversation and covered his mouth. “Lieutenant, arm warheads and lock on target.” No sooner had he said it then two warhead appeared on their radar coming toward them, “Captain, the twin Serengeti fired first!” “Evasive maneuvers!” the Captain yelled, but it was too late.  Captain Volikk muted the conversation and covered his mouth. “Lieutenant, arm warheads and lock on target.” As if he’d heard, the twin Volikk said, “Patrick, I launched my warheads and destroyed the first Serengeti we encountered. I know you plan to do the same, but I beg you: please make a different choice. Now that I am on the other end of things, I know that what seemed impossible is real.” The Captain double checked to make sure his comm. had been muted, and when he was sure it was he said, “Lieutenant, stand down.” He un-muted the comm. and said, “Alright Captain Volikk, if you knew we were going to shoot you down, why take the risk of contacting us?” “To warn you: As we approached the wormhole, we discovered the debris of an H.U.S.S. ship, after combing through the remains; we discovered that it was the Serengeti. After recovering the black box, we learned that it had been destroyed by an unavoidable asteroid. But one of our ensign engineers pointed out that we ourselves had not been destroyed because we had stopped for 35 minutes to investigate the accident.” “So you’re saying that if I don’t wait 35 minutes, we’ll be destroyed?” “Yes.” “Nonsense, now that we know about it, we can avoid it.” As the Serengeti flew onward, they encountered a great cloud of debris. Shattered pieces of asteroid and space ship were scattered everywhere, but the longer they searched for the ship’s black box, the fewer pieces they could find, until eventually their scanners couldn’t even detect one. After the Serengeti passed through the numinous wormhole, Captain Volikk decided to circumnavigate the path they had taken to get there. Though he knew the other ship was passing them, many billions of miles away, they were outside the range of communication, and the twin ships passed silently in the darkness. I wonder, thought Captain Volikk, what would have happened if I had listened to that fear and turned around.  Add Comment Happy Birthday 09/27/2010
I was told this story recently, and I felt a really strong urge to write it down. Moreover to write it in 100 words or less. One time we got lost on the way to the cemetery, and unsystematically drove down random streets blasting the cool-looking CD we’d just found at a thrift shop. We hadn’t known it was a Christmas CD, but quickly found out when ‘deck the halls’ came blazing out of our speakers as if played by the prodigy progeny of Jimmy Hendrix and Mrs. Claus. The cacophony of voices mixed with carols spilled out our rolled-down windows and sleighed the melancholy cemetery with merriment. Happy seventh birthday Mary. You may have left the world, but you’re still a part of our family. Wrestle Mania 3000! 03/16/2010
This Sunday! [Sunday!] (SUNDAY!) In the DEATH CAGE AREA. Forget the ring. ForGET the octagon! Forget cage matches with the razor wire along the top, cause these wrestlers are taking it to the next level in the only round ring in the federation. THIS IS WRESTLE MANIA 3,000!! Here comes Jonathan the Bouncinator stepping into the ring. Tonight’s battle is going to be a four-way fight to the death-- …And if we say ‘time out’, you have to stop. Yeah, I know. A four-way fight to the death where time-outs are okay if it’s an emergency! Cause remember last week when Cameron-- Cameron the Head-butter, stepping into the ring! —Yeah, when Cameron the Head-butter used his signature butt-to-face move and knocked out your loose tooth and you called ‘time-out’?! Yeah Andy I remember. Wait, Cam don’t introduce yourself, that’s the announcer’s job. In the only cage match-- This is only a net. I wish we had a REAL cage. Yeah what is this? Wrestle Mania for fish? Guys stop it. You’re ruining the announcer’s speech! SHOVE How come you get to be the announcer? What did you get from the tooth fairy? GRAPPLE Cause it’s my trampoline. Five bucks. PUSH SO? NO WAY! TRIP The tooth fairy isn’t real. YUH HUH! Oh those are fighting words, and it looks like the Bouncenator is lining up for a… wait hang on… lining up for a… dude stop, I can’t rocket-bounce you if you keep moving around. No Duh! Rich the Tripper doesn’t let himself get caught in a rocket-bounce! The Tripper? I thought you were The Leg Jam. I was, but then you kept calling me ‘Toe Jam’. That wasn’t me, that was THE BOUNCINATOR! HA HA! That’s right! And right now Toe Jam looks like he’s about to get a… FACE JAM!! CRACK OW! GET OFF! PUNCH Oh no, now the Head-butter is coming in for the coup d’état. Woah, what’s that? It sounds painful! It’s the secret move the Head-butter learn while he was away training in China! You bet it’s painful! Oh is this the one your cousin taught you? CRUNCH OW! NO JUMP MOVES! AHHHHHHH! MOOOOOOM! I didn’t MEAN to; the trampoline is slippery! I SLIPPED! Slipped like THIS? OOH, that looked like it hurt! TRIP OW! Dude, its time-out! PUSH NO! No one CALLED it! GRAPPLE The Bouncenator’s Mom called it. SHOVE I didn’t hear-- BOOOOOOYS! It’s freezing and raining out here! We’re not cold! Come inside please! Come ON mom! I don’t want your parents getting angry with me when you all catch pneumonia! COME INSIDE! … … … okay Dude, my mom could take your mom in Wrestle Mania 2000. Ooh, look who’s talking tough now that we’ve left the ring. We’ll settle this next time Toe Jam! I’m The Tripper now. BOYS, wait, you’re soaked; you’re getting water everywhere! Hey let’s make a fort! Nah, let’s play hide-and-go-seek NINJA STYLE! WHAAAAA! CHOP! The Desert of 400 Years — The Astronomer and The Eye of the Goddess By Tyler McNamara Betwixt Goggle’s Gnomish Gnautical Instruments --a full-sized shop topped with a custom built half-height apartment— and The WHIZZ-Bang! an alchemist’s supply shop, lies an alley a human-and-a-half wide, but thanks to clever carpentry, it appears much smaller from the street. Littered with abnormally sparkly sand, the alley weaves it way west until it meets the wall of the City of Crescent Moon. With the permission of the city guard, who were easy enough to persuade by lining their pockets with silver coins, Budail the astronomer was allowed to build his observatory high up on the wall, which itself sits high atop cliffs that drop hundreds of feet to have their roots caressed by calm currents of Crescent Bay. From this height, the view from Budail’s tower is only blocked by the temple of Saskanaa—even an agnostic knows that to challenge the height of Her building is to challenge the Goddess Herself. And though his fear of Saskanaa was abjured by his adoration for Her, his fear of Her followers was quite apparent. As the sun kissed the horizon, shafts of orange light reflected off a series of mirrors, one of which was diverted to a convex lens that was focused on the wick of an oil lamp, another was focused on the tip of a bakhoor cone, which as it burned, filled the room with a pungent scent of sweat secreted somewhere between hard labor and love making; a third shaft of light shone onto Budail’s sleeping form. At first, the light was a mild annoyance, but as the sun set it intensified. And as the smell of the bakhoor found his nostrils, Budail awoke. Shielding his eyes with his outstretched palm, he tossed aside his sheets, rose, stretched, and hurried to bid farewell to last rays of the sun. Wrapping himself in his blue shjetbaras, the traditional unstitched cloth robe that Saskanaa’s clerics wear, he expertly ties the complicated wrap, securing it to his body. He carefully lifts the oil lamp, lit by the light of the sun, and carries it upstairs to the telescope room. Setting the lamp on a desk covered with scrolls and star maps, he pries open a hidden drawer, and takes out a small circular device that Budail guesses to be over 400 years. Originally made from tin, it is now slightly corroded, and weighs almost nothing. He has always wondered why such an important device was not made from a more important metal. Perhaps its designer was is a situation much akin to his, and could not afford to have the device crafted by anyone other than himself, not because of its price in gold, but because of its possible affect on his life. Not two weeks ago, Auttamika, Budail’s best friend, confidant, and some would say coconspirator was arrested for heresy, and locked away in the Jackal’s Pit, a prison deep beneath the capital city, Saalhamesh. No larger than the base of a candle stick holder, the Sas’Ilâ, or, eye of the goddess has four rotating discs. When directed toward the northstar, the sas’ilâ can be set to show the exact time. A second disc can be rotated to simulate the star pattern change that occurs as the super planet, Nijhäl bends light around it. Simply adjusting these two dials allows anyone intelligent enough to memorize star roads access to any point in the desert. This technique of stellar navigation was developed thousands of years ago, and is critical in this land of dust and sand, where the landmarks shift with the tides of sands, and terrain features can change overday. The question that eats at the front of Budail’s mind night after night is: what are the other two discs for? Rotating either of them alters the constellations in a way that he has never before heard of, or observed. Auttamika suspected that 400 years ago, this device was used to measure two windows in the sky; holes in the sphere of constellations that allowed beings to traverse between worlds. This multiple world theory had almost cost Budail his life once before and ultimately led to him leaving the temple of Saskanaa. Though his brothers and sisters at the temple disapproved of his unbalanced interested in the goddesses’ nocturnal aspect known as Sashasheem, they had never threatened to excommunicate him before. But once he mentioned an interested in worlds beyond the reach of Saskanaa, he found himself face to face with the grand inquisitor. By confiding that the idea has been spoken through a temporary possession, as if some imp had borrowed his tongue to cause mischief, he, thankfully, was able to convince the inquisitor to let him live. Now, night after night as the stars swirled around his humble observatory, Budail’s telescope was trained to the east, watching and waiting for a window to another world to crest the horizon. And night after night he wondered if it ever would, and if it did what he would do next. He was sure that he would not be content to simply watch it rise, and he was sure that it was very, very far away. He was sure that he could not make the dangerous journey alone, and he was sure that if it was the will of Saskanaa, the clear road and his traveling companions would be laid out before him like a banquet. A Creative Essay for a Rainy Day 10/07/2009
All for the Love of the Umbrella Shuffle by Tyler McNamara All for the love of the umbrella shuffle; the awkward dance outside the doors of stores on dreary days. Equipped with ripped slacks and soaked sneakers, my chart of chores saved for a rainy day like a box cult classics, and the umbrella of the week. Today I wield a wooden handled, brown nylon, Brown & Sons. By carrying our own shelter we add tangibility to our comfort zones, making it not only odd but inconvenient to occupy the same sidewalk square, lest our umbrellas bother and spill water upon each other. It also allows a window into a world where we walk one-handed like captain hook, one hand holds a crook and is tasked with the purpose of keeping us dry. The persistent practice of step, sheathe, and shake has allowed me to make the transition through storefront thresholds smooth and timely. But he real magic begins when one person exits while another comes in; as one steps, sheathes, and shakes, the other must extend, upend, and defend. But there is always that moment in time and space where/when two umbrelli cannot occupy the same place. I will not hide that I count my steps, or that I time my comings and goings in an effort to force consent and cause a transitional accident. For in that line between wet and dry, we are obligated to meet eye to eye. And though the damp door dance may precipitate an uncomfortable instant under awnings, in me at least it will alleviate something lost in the hustle and bustle; and that’s why I love the umbrella shuffle. | AuthorTyler McNamara is a to be self-published author working on his first SciFi novel. In his spare time he thinks of odd things, which he will post herein. CategoriesAll |
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