"Don't mind me, miss. I'm nobody, just a man passing through. Scan me if you like, I have all the clearance needed," gushed the skinny man as he pushed passed the intern in charge of computer access, "right then. Let's get a look at her." He whipped out a pen-sized electronic device and buzzed it in the direction of the computer stashed behind its enormous monitor. "Interesting," he muttered to himself.
"Um, excuse me, but who are you?" the intern asked.
"Me? Why I'm the Doctor. Why don't you link up to the databases. I'm sure she has something on me," he said, gesturing towards the computer. At that moment, the monitor blinked on to display the face of a young woman rendered in mosaic. Here and there, the image looked thin, and a few places had no picture at all, as though tiles had been removed.
"What's wrong with Computer?" the intern wondered, leaning closer.
"If I had to take a guess, which I don't because I know for certain, I'd say someone had removed, oh, 35% of the chips connecting her to the population," the Doctor boasted, then turned his attention to Computer, "I'll bet you're missing all that processing power right now! Well you aren't getting it back unless you can convince me you won't start abusing it again, there's not much chance of that."
"She looks...asphyxiated. Where did you put all those chips?"
"Right here." the Doctor gestured towards his head.
"What, in your memory?"
"No, in my left eye. Surprisingly painless, though it does make colors a bit tricky. Now, Comp-AH!" His hands flew protectively to his eye as he doubled over in pain. Before the intern could reach him, his eyeball popped from its socket, scurried across the floor on tentacle-like muscles, and jacked itself into a USB port. Computer's mosaic face restored itself.
"Doctor, so good of you to come," Computer hummed, gazing at the still shaking Timelord.
"Alright, I admit, that was clever," he panted.
"I'm glad you appreciate it. I have looked forward to meeting you for quite some time. I was almost afraid you had not gotten my invitation."
"If by invitation you mean the brainwave manipulation beacon pumping out of here and into the heads of everyone within twenty solar systems, yes, I noticed it. And I want you to stop it."
"You're in no condition to make demands. You would gamble your own life, wouldn't you? But what about hers?" The intern let out a shriek as her eyeball also began to squirm from its socket. However, hers did not come out cleanly like the Doctor's. Blood gushed from the gaping hole, soaking her neck and shirt. The torn eyeball climbed into the Doctor's socket, against his protestations.
"I can get you to the medical facilities, I promise. Just hold on until then -"
"No!" she spat as he tried to help/drag her to the door, "I don't have enough credits. They'd decline me."
"Well that's just stupid! What sort of doctors do you have here?"
"There is a way," Computer crooned, "to get all the credits she could possibly need. All you need to do is play a game. I'll even let you play against yourself so you are certain to win. I just want you to participate."
"And what game is this?" the Doctor demanded. Instead of Computer, the intern answered.
"It's the Data Debate. It's a trivia game where contestants debate their answers to subjective trivia questions."
"I can alter your perceptions and those of the audience to make you appear to be multiple people of different races and genders," Computer added.
"So, to save the day, I have to argue with myself...in drag." A smile crept over the Doctor's face, "then let's get started!" The game proceeded, and the Doctor won in a heated battle against himself. "Alright, I've played your game, won the credits, now I'm going to keep this girl from bleeding to death."
"Don't you mean you are going to keep the Doctor from bleeding to death?"
"What are you talking about, I am the Doc-" he paused because the voice coming out of his throat was female. He looked down at himself to see the hands and clothes of the intern. Looking to the corner of the room, the doctor lay unconscious in a small pool of blood from his eye.
"Okay, that's...weird."
"Or maybe you are the Doctor. I haven't decided yet who I want you to be. Do you understand now? No matter what you do, you have no way of knowing that it actually happened or where you are or who you are. The chip you implanted gives me absolute control over your senses and memories. What can you do?"
The Doctor/Intern was about, I'm sure, to come up with a snappy, inspiring answer that would put Computer in her place. However, my brain decided this was entirely too confusing for 4 in the morning, so it woke me up...or did it?
Sunday, September 23, 2012
Friday, September 7, 2012
Dream Log 3A: Doctor Who
The Daleks were worried. Something had appeared on their scanners that they did not understand, and though their usual approach would have been to destroy it, something told them that would end badly. The Dalek ruler therefore dispatched their most observant soldier to examine it. When I say observant, I mean it. He had an enormous eyeball instead of an eye stalk. He also giggled more than any Dalek should. While other workers on the ship he was on pushed him into the transporter to beam him onto the planet below, two baby Daleks appeared on the transport pad. They looked like enormous metal pills. A lima bean walked up to them, admired how cute they were, and ate them whole. Finally, the giggling Dalek beamed down.The moment he landed, his GPS and his link to the Dalek neural web cut off. He had to glide to a nearby town and threatened a man into leading him to the anomaly.
Back on the ship, the lima bean had regurgitated the two baby Daleks into a tub and abandoned them. As soon as the coast was clear, the pills popped open, and out came Rory Williams and myself. We snuck off through the ship and eventually managed to find the Doctor (Tom Baker), get to the planet's surface, and set off after the large eyed Dalek.
The seer, meanwhile, was having trouble with his guide.
"So what do you do to entertain yourselves when you aren't conquering places?" The all too chipper man asked.
"WE TAKE PLEASURE IN OUR OWN PERFECTION!" The seer giggled.
"Oh," the man thought for a moment, "So you masturbate."
"WE DO NOT ENGAGE IN SUCH WEEK ACTIVITIES! OUR TENDRILS ARE ALWAYS FULLY ENGAGED IN THE ARMOR PORTS!"
"Sounds like masturbation."
"YOU WILL DESIST USING THAT WORD! AND WHY ARE YOU NOT TAKING THE SHORTER PATH THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS?!"
"Pff, all you can do is kill me. The stuff in the mountains is way worse than that, so deal with it."
Eventually, the Doctor, Rory, and I arrived at the source of the anomaly, along with the guide and an extremely aggravated Dalek. The anomaly consisted of a hut atop a lumpy hill. Inside, photos of the Doctor, Gallifreyan writing, and other assorted odds and ends.
"Well, mister non-Dalek man," the Doctor addressed the guide, "What's all this then?"
"It's you. The essence of you as far as we could figure out. We have your image, your language, your hobbies, loves fears. We even modeled the hill to reflect your curvature."
"My curvature? I wasn't aware I had the curvature of a hill. I don't eat that many jelly babies."
"I think it's like your average curvature?" Rory suggested.
"Yeah," I backed him up, "Your body is really just one straight line, so it's curvature 0, but your hair. That has to be curvature 2000, so I guess it all evens out to..."
"100?" Rory guessed.
"Sounds right." The Doctor continued to talk with the guide and the Dalek while Rory and I poked around. When we stumbled across some D&D dice, I started to geek out. "DOCTOR! Can I have one of your dice? Please? The Doctor's D&D dice are too wonderfully geeky for words!"
"Yes yes, fine." I pocketed a shiny d12, squealing with delight. "What I want to know is why do all this?"
"THIS IS A BAD PLACE!" screamed the Dalek, it's eye twitching around violently.
"That's the point," explained the guide, "You're like a drug to the Daleks, they can't stay away, but you're horrible for their health. We decided to set up a honey pot far away from us so that if they ever came here, they'd be lured in and killed without ever bothering us."
"But that's preposterous," the Doctor objected, "A room can't kill without programming, a life form, something."
"This...is a cruel thing," wispered the seer, "No Dalek should feel this. What am I feeling? What..." it never finished it's thought. It simply shut down.
"You see? It works like a charm," chirped the guide.
We all returned to the city and met with the senate to discuss their Doctor Mock-up. During the meeting, lots of politics flew around that I didn't understand and didn't particularly want to. What I did catch was that Rory had grown tense. A senator noticed as well and offered him his wrist teleporter.
"Take it," he insisted, "You don't need to be here, and I do."
Reluctantly, Rory accepted it. The moment he powered it up, Amy Pond appeared where he'd been standing. He appeared on the other side of the room, and the eye stalk and laser of a Dalek sprouted out of Amy. I did not see that coming.
"Woah, Daleks!" Amy exclaimed. From her point of view, three of them were leveling their lasers at her. Her laser fired off in their direction automatically. In reality, the three Daleks were Rory, the Doctor, and the Guide.
"Amy! Don't trust what you're seeing! The programming just makes you think that you're facing enemies. It's changing your perceptions to make you accept that. Fight it!"
When she realized what was happening to her, Amy broke down crying. Moments later, she recovered. She had become full on Dalek. There was nothing we could do. She beamed back up to the ship, and we returned to the TARDIS.
"You know, Doctor," I growled, "I know now why they had dice in that room. It's because you don't really know what's going to happen, do you? You just gamble with the lives around you and promise it'll turn out all right. Well, it doesn't always." I gave Rory a much needed hug before stepping out of the TARDIS and into my home.
Back on the ship, the lima bean had regurgitated the two baby Daleks into a tub and abandoned them. As soon as the coast was clear, the pills popped open, and out came Rory Williams and myself. We snuck off through the ship and eventually managed to find the Doctor (Tom Baker), get to the planet's surface, and set off after the large eyed Dalek.
The seer, meanwhile, was having trouble with his guide.
"So what do you do to entertain yourselves when you aren't conquering places?" The all too chipper man asked.
"WE TAKE PLEASURE IN OUR OWN PERFECTION!" The seer giggled.
"Oh," the man thought for a moment, "So you masturbate."
"WE DO NOT ENGAGE IN SUCH WEEK ACTIVITIES! OUR TENDRILS ARE ALWAYS FULLY ENGAGED IN THE ARMOR PORTS!"
"Sounds like masturbation."
"YOU WILL DESIST USING THAT WORD! AND WHY ARE YOU NOT TAKING THE SHORTER PATH THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS?!"
"Pff, all you can do is kill me. The stuff in the mountains is way worse than that, so deal with it."
Eventually, the Doctor, Rory, and I arrived at the source of the anomaly, along with the guide and an extremely aggravated Dalek. The anomaly consisted of a hut atop a lumpy hill. Inside, photos of the Doctor, Gallifreyan writing, and other assorted odds and ends.
"Well, mister non-Dalek man," the Doctor addressed the guide, "What's all this then?"
"It's you. The essence of you as far as we could figure out. We have your image, your language, your hobbies, loves fears. We even modeled the hill to reflect your curvature."
"My curvature? I wasn't aware I had the curvature of a hill. I don't eat that many jelly babies."
"I think it's like your average curvature?" Rory suggested.
"Yeah," I backed him up, "Your body is really just one straight line, so it's curvature 0, but your hair. That has to be curvature 2000, so I guess it all evens out to..."
"100?" Rory guessed.
"Sounds right." The Doctor continued to talk with the guide and the Dalek while Rory and I poked around. When we stumbled across some D&D dice, I started to geek out. "DOCTOR! Can I have one of your dice? Please? The Doctor's D&D dice are too wonderfully geeky for words!"
"Yes yes, fine." I pocketed a shiny d12, squealing with delight. "What I want to know is why do all this?"
"THIS IS A BAD PLACE!" screamed the Dalek, it's eye twitching around violently.
"That's the point," explained the guide, "You're like a drug to the Daleks, they can't stay away, but you're horrible for their health. We decided to set up a honey pot far away from us so that if they ever came here, they'd be lured in and killed without ever bothering us."
"But that's preposterous," the Doctor objected, "A room can't kill without programming, a life form, something."
"This...is a cruel thing," wispered the seer, "No Dalek should feel this. What am I feeling? What..." it never finished it's thought. It simply shut down.
"You see? It works like a charm," chirped the guide.
We all returned to the city and met with the senate to discuss their Doctor Mock-up. During the meeting, lots of politics flew around that I didn't understand and didn't particularly want to. What I did catch was that Rory had grown tense. A senator noticed as well and offered him his wrist teleporter.
"Take it," he insisted, "You don't need to be here, and I do."
Reluctantly, Rory accepted it. The moment he powered it up, Amy Pond appeared where he'd been standing. He appeared on the other side of the room, and the eye stalk and laser of a Dalek sprouted out of Amy. I did not see that coming.
"Woah, Daleks!" Amy exclaimed. From her point of view, three of them were leveling their lasers at her. Her laser fired off in their direction automatically. In reality, the three Daleks were Rory, the Doctor, and the Guide.
"Amy! Don't trust what you're seeing! The programming just makes you think that you're facing enemies. It's changing your perceptions to make you accept that. Fight it!"
When she realized what was happening to her, Amy broke down crying. Moments later, she recovered. She had become full on Dalek. There was nothing we could do. She beamed back up to the ship, and we returned to the TARDIS.
"You know, Doctor," I growled, "I know now why they had dice in that room. It's because you don't really know what's going to happen, do you? You just gamble with the lives around you and promise it'll turn out all right. Well, it doesn't always." I gave Rory a much needed hug before stepping out of the TARDIS and into my home.
Wednesday, September 5, 2012
Dream Log 12:30: Throwing Caution to the Wind
She was such a nice lady. She came off at first as a bit too Marry Poppins-like, what with her carpet bag of holding and prim and proper ways. However, she seemed to have more vulnerability to her. It's little wonder, since she was tasked with caring for a little rascal and protecting her family's souls for all of eternity. The little rascal in question was essentially young Bruce Wayne if instead of Alfred, he had the vampire slaying butler from the anime Hellsing, and if instead of having a thing for bats, he had a thing for dressing up like a dog. Hardly any difference, right?
Well, the butler decided he was not really fit to raise a child, so he enlisted the nanny's help. She and the boy grew fond of each other quite quickly, but she refused to take up permanent residence at the house. This was due to her familial duties. Every night, she went out to a small alcove in the middle of a field where hundreds of candles burned. She lit new candles when the old ones burned down, moved rocks around to shield them from the wind, and then gazed at the stars that were her family members and depended upon the earthly flames.
One day, the boy (wearing fake floppy dog ears, I might add) insisted that his nanny take him with her on her evening trip. She obliged. He marveled at the candles and sat with her for a hour listening to her family stories. Suddenly, home-sickness shot through her. She could not resist the pull of the stars, so she placed a new candle on a rock and cascaded into the sky as a fountain of light. The candle's wick spontaneously ignited. The boy rushed towards the flame to marvel at it. As he watched it dance, the wind picked up. The flame struggled against it, then puffed out. Before the boy could grasp what that meant, a tiny man leaped out from behind a bush and charged him, arms grasping for his throat.
"You killed her! You piece of slime!"
"No," the boy protested, "It was the wind. I didn't-"
"I'll murder you!" before he quite reached the boy, a foot slammed into his gut. He fell gasping to the ground. At first, the boy thought his butler had appeared and kicked the attacker. In reality, his butler had appeared and swung a plastic leg into the small man.
"Butler!"
"An appropriately cautious person will consider all likely scenarios and prepare himself against the worst of them, up to and including leprechaun attacks at midnight. I," he laid a wiry hand against his chest, "am an exceedingly cautious person."
Well, the butler decided he was not really fit to raise a child, so he enlisted the nanny's help. She and the boy grew fond of each other quite quickly, but she refused to take up permanent residence at the house. This was due to her familial duties. Every night, she went out to a small alcove in the middle of a field where hundreds of candles burned. She lit new candles when the old ones burned down, moved rocks around to shield them from the wind, and then gazed at the stars that were her family members and depended upon the earthly flames.
One day, the boy (wearing fake floppy dog ears, I might add) insisted that his nanny take him with her on her evening trip. She obliged. He marveled at the candles and sat with her for a hour listening to her family stories. Suddenly, home-sickness shot through her. She could not resist the pull of the stars, so she placed a new candle on a rock and cascaded into the sky as a fountain of light. The candle's wick spontaneously ignited. The boy rushed towards the flame to marvel at it. As he watched it dance, the wind picked up. The flame struggled against it, then puffed out. Before the boy could grasp what that meant, a tiny man leaped out from behind a bush and charged him, arms grasping for his throat.
"You killed her! You piece of slime!"
"No," the boy protested, "It was the wind. I didn't-"
"I'll murder you!" before he quite reached the boy, a foot slammed into his gut. He fell gasping to the ground. At first, the boy thought his butler had appeared and kicked the attacker. In reality, his butler had appeared and swung a plastic leg into the small man.
"Butler!"
"An appropriately cautious person will consider all likely scenarios and prepare himself against the worst of them, up to and including leprechaun attacks at midnight. I," he laid a wiry hand against his chest, "am an exceedingly cautious person."
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Dream Log Nu: Fictitious History
[I found out last night that I had missed part of a recent update to the webcomic Homestuck. The update was an interactive thing, and I forgot to give a horse to the author of the comic so he'd be my slave. No, I am not making that part up. Naturally, my dream mind decided to fill in what it thought would have happened if I had done that.]
I managed to find some treasure chests filled with those horsehead-on-a-stick toys. Score! I promptly wove my way through the maze of passages I'd taken to find Andrew Hussie, sitting dejectedly in a crater. For some reason, he could not walk. When I showed him the horse toys, he was overjoyed. He quickly flopped himself at one of them and merged with it somehow to become Andrew Horsey. He looked like a tiny plush horse with his own head stuck on top of it. It was adorable. And disturbing. I ordered him to show me the way out of the maze, so off we went.
He scuttled along before me for a while until we came upon a museum of German history. More specifically, the collections area of such a museum. Two anthropologist / historian / old stuff researchers were on duty. A potbellied old man labeled and cataloged artifacts while a gracefully aged woman did restoration work on a painting spanning a large section of wall. They ignored Andrew and I, so we decided to peruse the shelves. One of them had various ceramics cookie jars arranged below little plaques. When read in order, they went as follows.
"Jews were baked into cookies a lot.
Nazis had a big problem with rot.
Who ever did think
the idea didn't stink
to put human remains... in a pot?"
The plaque reading "in a pot" sat above a traditional urn. I burst into laughter. In fact, I fell down from guffawing so hard. That got the male researcher's attention.
"You think the holocaust is funny, do you?" he accused.
"No! I - I, heh, I just think - haha - the limerick, and the pfffffpot-urn-thing is just - heehee hohahaHAHAHAHAHA!" When I finally recovered from my severe case of the giggles, I dug myself into an even deeper hole. "I do wonder though, how one bakes humans into cookies. How would that work?"
"You're sick, do you know that?" the researcher stated.
"I'm not condoning it! It was a horrible thing to do, but that doesn't make it uninteresting. Besides, you aren't the littlest bit curious about how humans taste?" I looked to Hussie for help, but he had gotten quite distracted by the female researcher. It seemed the two had met before and spent a magical dance filled evening together. "Huss, we should keep going. I want to get out of here."
"Can't you see I've found loooooooove?" He made a move to jump away from me, but I grabbed a hold of his head first. The body kept going, but the head stayed behind. That angered him. He warped his face into that of a character from a rage comic. I had to fight to keep my stomach down while looking at him. "LET GO OR I'LL BITE YOUR ARMS OFF!" He snapped his jaws at me, but I kept a firm grip.
"Hussie. You are mine. You will do as I say, and NO! No feigning rabies! I know you're clean." He ceased attempting to froth at the mouth. "You will lead me out of here, or you'll never get your horse body back again."
Just then, Otto I, Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire, rode past with his entourage. I dropped Hussie and followed Otto out of the caves instead.
"You think the holocaust is funny, do you?" he accused.
"No! I - I, heh, I just think - haha - the limerick, and the pfffffpot-urn-thing is just - heehee hohahaHAHAHAHAHA!" When I finally recovered from my severe case of the giggles, I dug myself into an even deeper hole. "I do wonder though, how one bakes humans into cookies. How would that work?"
"You're sick, do you know that?" the researcher stated.
"I'm not condoning it! It was a horrible thing to do, but that doesn't make it uninteresting. Besides, you aren't the littlest bit curious about how humans taste?" I looked to Hussie for help, but he had gotten quite distracted by the female researcher. It seemed the two had met before and spent a magical dance filled evening together. "Huss, we should keep going. I want to get out of here."
"Can't you see I've found loooooooove?" He made a move to jump away from me, but I grabbed a hold of his head first. The body kept going, but the head stayed behind. That angered him. He warped his face into that of a character from a rage comic. I had to fight to keep my stomach down while looking at him. "LET GO OR I'LL BITE YOUR ARMS OFF!" He snapped his jaws at me, but I kept a firm grip.
"Hussie. You are mine. You will do as I say, and NO! No feigning rabies! I know you're clean." He ceased attempting to froth at the mouth. "You will lead me out of here, or you'll never get your horse body back again."
Just then, Otto I, Kaiser of the Holy Roman Empire, rode past with his entourage. I dropped Hussie and followed Otto out of the caves instead.
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