Sunday, June 28, 2009
A klaxon blared in her ear. Insistent, whispering sweet, sweet promise of extinction. A lovers tongue caressing the earlobe, demanding attention. The sweet sourness of the drolling brought forward nascent attentiveness. White fangs formed the basilica of intent, jagged and imposing cliffs behind the black mask with its singular, dominant red eye. Convoluted iconography fluctuated as a thermal signature unfolded in her minds eye. Images became icons, icons executables, and subroutines became active secondary programs rushing to drown out all conscious thought turning everything to animalistic instinct. The creature -- turned from once biological into a halfling weapon -- glanced in the direction indicated. Computational algorithms informed that it was a flame-like substance with attributing liveliness unheard of, if not altogether strange. Quantum field analysis came up with exotic energy signatures involving extreme manipulation of substance and form. The blast came on, quickly. Pico-seconds were ticking down as shields glowed bright blue luminescent. The incandescent lightbulb of artificial life fluctuating like the quirky power of an old building. A rock flowing upstream against the current. She moved forward. Her left arm pointed, fingers outstretched. Reality bent a moment as the cannon unfolded itself. Little squares of air turned around as if on spinners before curving into infinite black as the polymorphic metallic alloy bled out of its finite dimensional holding pen. The barrel expanded, elongating. Rotating circlets appeared about the cannon, blue iridescence gaining. She gripped her forearm as the blast went upstream against the fight, exotic energy mass converting the trees and all like it into a supraluminal weapon; the matter stream ran through hyperspace covering the distance in a billionth of a pico-second, warping space and time to devour and wipe her foe from its very existence. But even when the cannon had fired, the klaxon did not cease. Ladar queued up several objects moving in a parabolic arc. Artillery? Blinked and mental commands flashed through. Nano-seconds ticked by as heightened reflexes aided by Semi-Conscious AI computed the arc of the projectiles and their originating point. Fluttered wings grew from shoulders, long trails of blue efflux radiating off anti-grav fins launching the creature backwards. Dimensional transceivers activated as a call for true artillery began. The grid coordinates flashed through subspace into a lower dimensional level before disappearing completely. She waited...a second. Two seconds. Three... The emergence zone was a small cross-section of space only several hundred thousand kilometers square. Tiny, especially given the distances being crossed in the single large span were vast enough that even the most accurate trajectory from point A might be thrown off due to the spin of the galaxy at point B. Also factor in that the object in question was traversing not just a massive gulf, but a gulf between dimensions. It was at the point where space was ripped apart along a single line, shaking visibly before stabilizing into an ovoid shape. Anyone happening to glance at the correct spot would see what empty infinity was, but the chances of that encounter were slim to none. The psudo-fabric structure of the inter-dimensional slipspace gateway was a photonic dead zone, a darkness of such profound unbelievability that it appeared to hemorrhage out and contaminate the real universe. At that moment the object shot out on a gush of flame and the wound snapped shut leaving nothing, not even a scar to indicate the disruption of time-space within the point. Below was the planet. The ovoid rocketed into the upper atmosphere before fragmenting into dozens upon dozens of long, javelin like lengths. The sky lit up like as the meteorite storm began. Toughened alloy spears with guidance computers and cruciform tails cut through the air extending massive sonic booms behind them as gravity reached up to grip the objects with its mighty, invisible hand and guide them all earthbound. Long iridescent lines lancing through the darkness. New stars born and dying. Then the barrage struck the ground. The resulting kinetic impact began a chain reaction that threw up dirt and foliage alike with little regard for each, all at the point where the projectiles had originated from. The concussive blasts spread out like water-droplets, their ripples knocking down and aside anything in their paths. The sonic booms ended, echoing far outward as the atmosphere stabilized. She glanced about, scanning. Threat neutralized.
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Added a few paragraphs to WPCA - Depths today. I figure I might turn this into a full-blown story or something. No idea what I really want to do with it. I should start writing again; actually get back into it. I haven't written anything really major in so long.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
I recently started working at a Tim Horten's. I despise the service industry with a passion. It doesn't help that I'm foul-mouthed at the best of times. So imagine the amount of restrain it takes me to put a smile on my face and greet people like I actually do care for eight hours. You want a large triple-triple coffee and a donut? I'd like the recession bullshit to stop so I can get a real job and not feel backed into a corner when it comes time to pay rent. However, even for all I'm bashing the job, it isn't too, too bad. Time flies when you're constantly being mobbed for more coffee by caffeine addicts. Seriously, this stuff is like crack to some people. Woman came into the store and was shaking, visibly. She wanted not one, but TWO extra-large coffees. Dear Lord, I can't even bring myself to think about drinking one -- that and the allergic reaction to caffeine. Also, as an aside, I used to like the idea of eating donuts. You know, I like my sweets. Sugar isn't bad or a devil people make it out to be -- it's good for the body, recharges you. But just so you know, I boycott Denny's. I worked at one, once; years ago now, maybe a decade. I refuse to eat at one since -- conditions in back were just atrocious. I don't eat fast food like McDonald's or Burger King. I've heard too many stories from friends of the conditions in back who worked there and the things they did. Now, I don't ever think I'll want to eat another donut again. Once I've seen what's done with food at a joint I work at, I'd rather just make it myself. So, yeah, got a job. Now I just need to find a better one...with less people. Lord help me.