05-15-2015, 01:10 PM
Fiddling through my latest piece of Omniverse technology, my fingers brought me to an interesting function. With eyes absorbing every single bit of information projecting from the object's HD screen, I find myself browsing through the pages of an interesting bulletin board of sorts for this cyberspace. A particular post from the page had me tapping on it with my hard finger, the screen screaming in stress as I slide and scrub across it. Good thing I got the one with a scratch-proof screen for my mishandling. After all the fancy little graphics have finished loading themselves, the actual message appeared along with the poster's...poster. Just from reading through it, it feels like whoever wrote this was a kind person but then I remember what Grampa Anomaly always said about never trusting strangers, especially those inside your phone. Wait...did I have a grampa? What's grampa anyway? Weird.
Then it came to me like water from a waterhose as I recall it being a famous show back then in the Event Horizon, roughly three thousand years ago. No wonder why I didn't remember it immediately. It was a funky show to remind us Anomalies what to do once we descend into the observable worlds. It got shut down once the previous Zone mayor was dumped by Grampa Anomaly's grandchild. Pssh...that's Zone politics for you, I don't really understand any of that. I mean what did that stupid mayor see on that flush red, teal polka-dotted flowerpot? Everyone else was aiming for that spacedragon. Well, everyone has their own preferences I guess and the mayor just wants simple things.
After the thought dried out of me as quickly as it had dampened my processing, I caught myself staring at a bystander with my pointy finger still scrubing my phone. This particular bystander had similar taste and getup, obviously washed more recently than the previous one I met (probably cleaned himself two thousand years ago), like one of the men busy knocking each other out. He didn't seem to notice me yet since his focus was on the little duel between the two men whose opinions and ideals lie on the sides of manslaughter. The fight still seemed to drag on further and that got my focus back on the post I read earlier. It was a simple offer; to answer one's questions, probably to pass time or test the poster's range of intellect. I post a reply before going back to the other two.
Watching closely as the quicker man pulled off his chainmail to distract and hamper the moving wall's vision, the agile one kept stabbing the meatlog relentlessly, taking in blows himself as more filth gets sucked into his fibers. If it weren't for the resistant stench and sludge juicing out of punctured flesh, I would have commended the agile one's persistance to the situation. It looked like he was winning when the cyclops' dropped his weapon but it clearly wasn't the case as the very loss of his weapon drove the plagued one into a ruthless feat.The grunting and shouting ends, the squelching of violated flesh subsides and the clashing of metals and armor ceases. Silence.
In the end, the agile one lost, still and unmoving from damage, decay, defeat and disbelief. Devastated but alive, he stares at the silky-white sky of this porcelain world. What is he thinking right now? Perhaps trying to accept his fate? I do not know. The victor on the other hand, appeared to have lost more than he had gained. Yes, he might have defeated the other in glorious combat but, he did not win unscathed. In the eyes of an audience, it was merely a grown man bullying a scrawny person half his size, a child, while his very skill was tested. With a dead arm and limped leg, the being looks at me with a single red eye. A stare of dissatisfaction. He starts marching towards me, howling words that seems to address me with that booming voice of artificial origin.
As the man appoaches me in laboured breathing, surely at his limits, he stumbles. Fatigue, technical malfunction and sustained damage denies him from progressing, only frustration keeps him from falling down completely on his good hand. Looking like he's dragging himself towards me, I smile at the sight of him crawling like vermin. "How fitting," I mumbled as I push myself up. Under his own power, he was unable to stand, and yet he did. With the help of the previous bystander, the cyclops was steadily rising up. Suddenly, a third man of the same size and bulky shell comes running, spouting words of curiousity.
Too bad I am running out of narrator skills once I start losing interest and ignore them as I walk towards the beaten 'Victor'. Looking in pretty bad shape, I reject the thought of eating him. Eating him now would be like taking a bite at a ruined/soiled/nasty sandwich. I have integrity too you know? "Perhaps some other time huh?" I tell him with my trademark smile.
Wondering how he's interpreting what I said, I summon a ton of bandages, complete with the necessary props for mending wounds and injuries. I'm sure he'd heal in time but I have no clue how to fix that now ugly face. I feel wrong about it even if I'm an Anomaly. That's how bad it is. I simply wrapped whatever's left of the face with the bandages and after doong so, I realize I've never done this thing before. I only see this in movies and yes, the Event Horizon has movies too you know? I quickly call out for the conveniently placed secondary in the crowd dressed as a paramedic, complete with a medikit and an "I am a paramedic" reflectorized vest. Aside from this obvious insert, I have no complaints about the story.
The paramedic now doing his thing, I walk back to the cyclops, waving my smartphone with a wide HD screen clearly displaying a "DA" banner ad. I stop in front of the trio, giving them a chance to read. "Interested?" I ask them.
Then it came to me like water from a waterhose as I recall it being a famous show back then in the Event Horizon, roughly three thousand years ago. No wonder why I didn't remember it immediately. It was a funky show to remind us Anomalies what to do once we descend into the observable worlds. It got shut down once the previous Zone mayor was dumped by Grampa Anomaly's grandchild. Pssh...that's Zone politics for you, I don't really understand any of that. I mean what did that stupid mayor see on that flush red, teal polka-dotted flowerpot? Everyone else was aiming for that spacedragon. Well, everyone has their own preferences I guess and the mayor just wants simple things.
After the thought dried out of me as quickly as it had dampened my processing, I caught myself staring at a bystander with my pointy finger still scrubing my phone. This particular bystander had similar taste and getup, obviously washed more recently than the previous one I met (probably cleaned himself two thousand years ago), like one of the men busy knocking each other out. He didn't seem to notice me yet since his focus was on the little duel between the two men whose opinions and ideals lie on the sides of manslaughter. The fight still seemed to drag on further and that got my focus back on the post I read earlier. It was a simple offer; to answer one's questions, probably to pass time or test the poster's range of intellect. I post a reply before going back to the other two.
Watching closely as the quicker man pulled off his chainmail to distract and hamper the moving wall's vision, the agile one kept stabbing the meatlog relentlessly, taking in blows himself as more filth gets sucked into his fibers. If it weren't for the resistant stench and sludge juicing out of punctured flesh, I would have commended the agile one's persistance to the situation. It looked like he was winning when the cyclops' dropped his weapon but it clearly wasn't the case as the very loss of his weapon drove the plagued one into a ruthless feat.The grunting and shouting ends, the squelching of violated flesh subsides and the clashing of metals and armor ceases. Silence.
In the end, the agile one lost, still and unmoving from damage, decay, defeat and disbelief. Devastated but alive, he stares at the silky-white sky of this porcelain world. What is he thinking right now? Perhaps trying to accept his fate? I do not know. The victor on the other hand, appeared to have lost more than he had gained. Yes, he might have defeated the other in glorious combat but, he did not win unscathed. In the eyes of an audience, it was merely a grown man bullying a scrawny person half his size, a child, while his very skill was tested. With a dead arm and limped leg, the being looks at me with a single red eye. A stare of dissatisfaction. He starts marching towards me, howling words that seems to address me with that booming voice of artificial origin.
As the man appoaches me in laboured breathing, surely at his limits, he stumbles. Fatigue, technical malfunction and sustained damage denies him from progressing, only frustration keeps him from falling down completely on his good hand. Looking like he's dragging himself towards me, I smile at the sight of him crawling like vermin. "How fitting," I mumbled as I push myself up. Under his own power, he was unable to stand, and yet he did. With the help of the previous bystander, the cyclops was steadily rising up. Suddenly, a third man of the same size and bulky shell comes running, spouting words of curiousity.
Too bad I am running out of narrator skills once I start losing interest and ignore them as I walk towards the beaten 'Victor'. Looking in pretty bad shape, I reject the thought of eating him. Eating him now would be like taking a bite at a ruined/soiled/nasty sandwich. I have integrity too you know? "Perhaps some other time huh?" I tell him with my trademark smile.
Wondering how he's interpreting what I said, I summon a ton of bandages, complete with the necessary props for mending wounds and injuries. I'm sure he'd heal in time but I have no clue how to fix that now ugly face. I feel wrong about it even if I'm an Anomaly. That's how bad it is. I simply wrapped whatever's left of the face with the bandages and after doong so, I realize I've never done this thing before. I only see this in movies and yes, the Event Horizon has movies too you know? I quickly call out for the conveniently placed secondary in the crowd dressed as a paramedic, complete with a medikit and an "I am a paramedic" reflectorized vest. Aside from this obvious insert, I have no complaints about the story.
The paramedic now doing his thing, I walk back to the cyclops, waving my smartphone with a wide HD screen clearly displaying a "DA" banner ad. I stop in front of the trio, giving them a chance to read. "Interested?" I ask them.
![[Image: CarnDASig_zpsnooeyckf.png]](http://i1301.photobucket.com/albums/ag103/Tearen0/CarnDASig_zpsnooeyckf.png)