Tortoise-Travel

These were the obstacles of the traveller. The burden he carried: ill-made for carrying, it encumbered and pained him. The wind against him: arising even as he neared his goal. And the goal itself; for the transportation the traveller sought scorned him, departing stuffed full of students and empty of him.

A mighty wind, a heavy burden; the turtle turned its face away.

But another tortoise came, as had been prophesied. Upon it the traveller placed himself, and wedged himself into a corner, anticipating company. Such there was: more students loaded themselves on, and more, and more. For reasons unclear to him, most seemed to be women; one such sat next to the traveller, so close-packed that her leg was pressed against his for most of the trip. It was not what he had expected.

Another came; they went, last of three, packed tight as sardines (sardines, oddly, mostly of the distaff sex)

The trip was long; the traveller's neighbour napped as best she could. (They never spoke.) The wind, which had assaulted the traveller before, did so again; the tortoise began to sway, rocking back and forth faster and faster, further and further. Other students, and even the traveller himself, became increasingly alarmed; the turtle's driver began to rein it in, slowing its speed to control the terrible sway. The traveller was reminded of the Indian bus, which, so overloaded with passengers as to have them hanging from the sides, turned a corner with only two wheels upon the earth. He preferred to avoid such experiences in his own life, he decided.

Buffeted terribly, their transport swayed like a sea-ship in a gale.

The tortoise slowed as they entered the city, alleiving the problem. The traveller's eye was now free to wander. He watched the sky, seeing grey nearly everywhere he looked, save for one golden spot (so far away!) where the clouds yielded their primacy to the light of the Sun. He watched the road, where the tortoise was forced to halt; an iron horse galloped past at terrific speeds, shooting past in seconds. The turtle continued, to the aerodrome.

Wonders and miracles; a spear of light from the heavens like the eye of God, surrounded by all-encompassing grey; a steel flash across their path, ten thousand tons of metal moving nearly too fast to be seen.

The traveller watched from the seat in the belly of the steel bird, watching the ground fly away. "Farewell, my home," he said, with no hint of regret. "For my home awaits."

Aerodrome!

Yay!

(The bold comments are the original notes for this story, written on my cell-phone as the events occurred. I felt they might be helpful for readers' comprehension.)

The Windmills of Saxony

The windmills of Saxony are a marvelous sight to behold. Their blades spin, sparkling in the wind that always blows about the bounds of Saxony; but it is a strange wind indeed, for it is of the windmills' own making. They are powered by the light of the sun, the movements of the waves, and the heat of the fire at the core of the Earth; they spin ceaselessly, day and night, rain or shine. And there is more yet to these windmills; for within the wind-lines they spin fly the Grothorpes, in a ceaseless circuit all about the bounds of Saxony.

The Grothorpes themselves are a strange sort of spectacle. They, too, glitter in the light, and to the innocent eye might be thought to be a kind of bird or fay creature. Close inspection reveals the truth: they are a sort of robot, a clever automaton. Their form is simple; a pair of wings, with solar panels atop, a camera beneath, and a radio-antenna between. While the windmills of Saxony spun, the Grothorpes flew, propelled by the eternal wind, watching all who entered or left that land.

It might be thought that this was odd, that Saxony might have such a border-fence; but it was not so strange, perhaps, when compared with the condition of Saxony's interior. The Free Democratic People's Liberation Committee ruled for the good of the People, and their rule was one of eternal surveillance: cameras in all public spaces, all private spaces, anywhere that a camera might be mounted. Their reign was corrupt, and so crime persisted despite all this; but the highest crime of all was dissent, so easily seen through a camera's lens. Mass executions were regularly scheduled.

The Revolution came to Saxony, though not before atrocities such as might have destroyed a lesser people. The cameras were smashed, the secret police shot, the FDPLC tried and, inevitably, executed in their own machines. The windmills were shut off, and the Grothorpes fell from the air, breaking upon the hard earth. The air was still about Saxony.

But the windmills were turned on again, though no new Grothorpes were built to harness their wind; for the people of Saxony loved beauty too much to sacrifice it for fear of terrors past.

Completion

The final final - over. The last, dying breath of the quarter, exhaled - and gone.

(To wax poetical.)

There is a joy in it - a terrible and glorious joy, as makes the eyes sparkle and burn - having completed the last trial, surmounted the last challenge, being done. There is a wistfulness, too - being done with something, finished forever. The only "first quarter of college" one will ever have... but that is sentimentalist rot of the worst sort.

In any case: I am done with all my finals. They were not as hard as I expected. Nor as easy as I hoped.

That is probably as it should be.

Here is some minifiction:

Robert leapt across the chasm, sword in hand. His archfoe, Abhinay, met him on the other side. "So, you have something to prove?" Abhinay asked, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Funny," Robert retorted. "That's what she said."

Abhinay looked at him.

"Last night," Robert expounded.

Abhinay continued to look at him.

"In bed," Robert further explained.

Abhinay raised one eyebrow.

"Your mum," Robert finally ejaculated, disgusted at his opponent's failure to recognize the obvious.

Abhinay paused, and then began to shake, enraged. "WAAAAAAAAAGH!" he cried, and cast himself at Robert.

Robert stepped aside, and watched Abhinay plummet.

"That was fun," he remarked. "I'd never realized that unbearably corny insults could be weaponized."

"Live and learn," he shrugged.

Then Abhinay rose from the abyss atop a giant bat with burning red eyes!

This would be a challenge.

Two-Thirds

On the tenth day, the Nikolas went to the study-hall; he did not quiver, nor was he afraid. His departure was tardy, and he feared that he might have erred; but through exhausting himself for the sake of swift travel, the Nikolas arrived with time to spare, though few seats yet remained in the study hall by the time of his entry into it. He sat down and worked for a time, less than many other, though not less than all; he wracked his brain and cursed his errors, and made at least one terrible mistake; but in the end he exited the hall, and feasted upon milk and honey, to celebrate his victory.

On the eleventh day, the Nikolas went to the basement-lair; he did not quiver, nor was he afraid. He arrived just when he desired to, and watched with amusement the nervousness of his peers; his actions were swift and certain, like those of the master craftsman. He worked for a time, and then departed, sooner than most, later than some; his arrogance was as that of the lion.

On the twelfth day, the Nikolas waits; soon he shall go to the lecture-torium. He quivers, alternately with fear and rage; for this is the thing that he hates most. His only comfort is thoughts of time past, and knowledge that, soon, it shall all be over.

Wish the Nikolas luck, ye merry wanderers; wish him luck, for he may need it.

Visual Adjunct to "As Regards Organs"

Compelled to model the castle described in the story, I've been spending the last few days working on it. It's surprisingly time-consuming! Here are some in-progress shots:

As I have already informed certain individuals, the loveliest looking thing in this screenshot - the tree - is from the Internet. (Also, note the balloon and castle.)


From when I was adding windows to the castle. Some of them are darker than others - those had shutters on them. Seemed nifty, but turned out to be somewhat underwhelming in effect. Also, the structure partially visible to the left is an early version of the spiral stairway mentioned in the story. I had a tremendous amount of difficulty making that stairway; still, when it all came together, the results were glorious.


Er. Not much to say about this. Essentially, when working on the organ room, I discovered that the offset tool in Sketchup could do some very weird things. Like send giant spikes shooting into the sky.


The spiral staircase! Screenshot taken just after I got the underlying technique working. An earlier, failed version is visible on the left.

And here are some pictures of the organ-room, which is about as finished as it is going to get.


Friezes are mentioned in the story; those would be visible here but for technical limitations. (They would be prohibitively difficult to add in the program I'm using.) Alas.



Also, here is a man with a beard:


And here is Tim Wu.


He doesn't like you very much, I think.

What a shame.

The Misadventures of the Fresh Prince of Dartmouth-Air

well
this is a story
all about how
my life got fliped turned
outside dwon
and
o yea
i did not sleep
one night
and like
my 'floormates'
and i went out
for breafast
in like the early morning
and i saw
that womon
and she was going to the same restaurent
with a sweet dude
excpett
he was me
but
in an alternate deminsion
and i talked to the dude
but i did not say hullo to the womon
beause
i was like "im too good for you"
but then she said hullo to me
and then my starategy did not work
then i went back and i watched some dudes play "grand theft aoutos"
on the "play-station"
fter that
i saw the womon and dudeman
go to the bus together
and then
they were like
having sex
on the road
well
almost
anyway
i went after them
because i thought that the womon would not go on the sam buss
as him
and i could "chill" with them
as the waited
but then the bus overtook me
as i ran
across the starry sky
and i was like
that guy
who got throw in a lava
and then his wife died
and he had to have a body suit
so liek
i stood across the platform
waiting for that womon to come back
and i waited
for like
half in hour
and it was could
so like
she did not come out
and i was sad
and then
i cried "nooooooooooo"
anyway
then i was the last one
to leave my dormitory
so it was creepy in there
and then the dormotories closed
and i had to go to the "Commonplace"
and i watched
a documentary
about ninjas
and there was an old white guy
who claimed to be a "ninja master"
and then
i went on the bus
and i talked to this guy
who was like a physist or something
and he told me
about
"quantom mecahincs"
and then
i went to the aerodrome
and then
i waited for a while
and my plane was de-layed
then
i talked to this womon at the aerodrome
but she was not that hot
but she told me where she lived
and like
she told me to come for a
"good time"
well
the last part
in not true

and then
i got on the plane
and it was pretty boring
i saw a televsion show thta
was pretty funny
o
and in san fronsico
they have boxes in the bathrooms
where you can deposit used needles

A stirring adventure, from our beloved Fresh Prince of Dartmouth-Air!

A message of the futture

The 2nd of December, in the year of our Lord 1756.

In the office of the Earl, upon the town, Sex, upon Ipswich.

Gentlemen:

I am please to relate to you recent Events which should be of Great Interest to you, and chiefly pertaining the Actions of a Colleague of mine, Monsieur Nikolas Féinbérg, from Normandy, and whose Interactions with the Ladies of the Town are sure to delight the Fancies of Educated Men. 

The Man, who was quite an odd Fellow, as described from the Perspective of several Dukes of the County, was born S. 1730, of a Noble Line, and, recently, is educated at Cambridge, whereupon he caught my Attentions, when I observed him ministering to a young Lady upon the Township. This Lady, with whom was I intimately Acquainted, was familiar, thusly, and, having described my Relations with her extensively in previous Discourses, I shall not elabourate further on the Matter.

He, being a Frenchman, and well-versed of a course, in all Manner of Eloquent Speech, which doth strike the Ears of Ladies that they are wont to Marry the Man who speaks thus, or maketh copulations in his Bedchambres otherwise, did go upon the young lady, and make Discourse, and invite her to his lively Supper, by the Hearth, where there would be several members of the Nobility, of which was sure to Impress her, and indeed it did, even such that when he invited her to his Bedchambre that Evening, she went there Readily, and they lay together, though, he, being a Gentleman, did not fornicate with her, or as so he relates to me, and I cannot be completely Certain of his Forthrightness. However, the young Lady, feeling ill at ease with M. Nikolas upon her, like a worm upon a Leach, did move to the county of Devonshire, in the South, where she wrote a Letter to him expressing that she did not wish to continue the Intercourse with him.

In the course, M. Nikolas, lustful after another young Lady, following the Incident, did go upon the buildings of the University, in his way, making sure to flaunt his Silk-stockings, and make Friendly Smiles and Gestures at each Lady that walketh for by, until he had, at his Leisure, several Maidens with whom he was intimately acquainted. And, as was his Plan, as he relateth to me, one of the Maidens, who was in a course Particular fond of Him, he spake to her of many Things, including his Christmas Holiday, of recent, in which he went Abroad, and also of the Academic Events in which he was engaged at the University. 

Then M. Nikolas, being possessed of a mating Instinct, did call upon that young Lady to come unto his Residence, at Northumberland, whereupon there would be a Grand Ball, and for which, he related to me recently, he would be dressed in his finest Silk-Stockings, as well as a powdered wig and Cravat, and a Cloak of Ermine, and Sable. And he also related to me, in a Gentlemanly Discourse, that he would take a band of minstrels, from the North, which were famed over the County for their lively style of Music-Making, although, he telleth me that he doth regret it now that he reflecteth upon it in the Future, for they did make many foul and ribald Japes at the ball, for which the Nobles' ears were offended. In thus, however, I decided to take the Chance, and attend a Concert of theirs at the Local Theatre, and found it surprisingly Pleasant, contrary to M. Nikolas.

And so the young Lady came to the ball, and she delighted M. Nikolas with her fanciful ways, and Exotic Dances, and her silk Clothing, and a Shawl. And there was much Games played at the ball, with Cards, and Gambling, and M. Nikolas engaged himself in several rounds, in which, he saith to me, his Bowels did shake with the Hunger, and he ordered a Servant to bring him Meats, and Breads. In the course, M. Nikolas, not wanting to soil his playing Cards, them being made of Silk, and lined with Gold, and Orichalcum, did take the meat, which contained much Grease, and put it between the bread, which was Dry, and he ate the Concoction with one Hand, and I saw that it was a marvelous invention, and shall be sure to Delight and Impress many fine Ladies with the Technique at Future balls which I shall have the Pleasure to Attend.

And thus concludes the Most Extraordinary tale of M. Nikolas, and his fanciful Ways.

Cordially,

John Montagu IV, 

The Earl of Sandwich

Blog Against Heteronormativity Day

I'm only a little bit late! It's okay! We can do this thing.

So!

James was stalking Mark!

He stalked him at the restaurants.

He stalked him at the theatre.

He stalked him at his own home!

It had begun some months back.

James saw Rohit. "Wow!" he said. "That guy is really attractive!" He took a photo with a camera-phone.

Then he heard Rohit's full name said in discussion with the other two restaurant-goers present in Rohit's booth, a man and another woman. "Hey!" said James. "I should look up his personal details on the social-networking sites and the Google!"

It seemed harmless but it quickly became all-consuming.

James fell into a routine. He would come off work early, slipping out the back door. He would call his friend Mark, who was the driver for James's stalking operations. Then he would find out where Mark was scheduled to be next - the Internet, she is a powerful tool! - and would have Mark drive him there. (Mark was a very good friend.)

Then James would stalk.

One day, James stalked Rohit to his home. He climbed a tree, so that he could see inside the bedroom window. (Mark helped with the climbing.) To his dismay, he saw Rohit performing romantic actions with a lady!

"Agh!" James said, not too loudly. (He felt it would be unfortunate to be overheard.) Then he swore, repeatedly. Also he called the lady a number of rude and unpleasant names. Just as well not to quote him.

"Maybe he's just bi?" Mark suggested.

James shook his head. "Maybe, but it doesn't matter. He's with someone! Why couldn't he have just put it on his Facebook so that I wouldn't have had to watch!"

"Are you still watching, then?"

"No! Yes. A little bit."

"Come down, dude," Mark told him. "Let's go home."

James mumbled something, still watching the window, his eyes filled with betrayal. Then he felt a firm touch.

"Dude," James asked of Mark. "Did you just goose me?"

Mark looked back at him insouciantly. "And if I did?"

James thought back to the last few months. He thought about Mark's donation of his own time and effort for days upon weeks, in the cause of the Great Stalking. He thought about Mark's comments about his personal appearance - which, in retrospect, seemed telling.

"...do you have the hots for me?" James asked.

"Yeah, pretty much," Mark said. "I was helping with this whole stalking thing pretty much so that you'd get over it and notice me. Now can we have sex or something?"

They had sex, or something.

Everyone was satisfied! In a non-judgmental and sexually-nondiscriminating fashion.

Hooray!

Musselmen

As the Government of the United States is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion; as it has in itself no character of enmity against the law, religion or tranquility of Musselmen; and as the states never have entered into any war or act of hostility against any Mohometan nation, it is declared by the parties that no pretext arising from religious opinion shall ever produce an interruption of harmony existing between the two countries...

"LEFTENANT JOHNSON!" the Mussleman Captain roared. "WHERE ARE YOUR BRAINS?"

"INSIDE MY SHELL, SIR!" replied Leftenant Johnson promptly, just before being beset by a sudden wave of doubt as to why he was speaking English. He overcame it.

"That's better!" the Captain said, placated. "Now get out there and DO YOUR DUTY FOR MUSSEL AND COUNTRY!"

Leftenant Johnson boarded the waiting ship. Then he participated in boarding an American vessel for purposes of high-seas piracy!

"No!" cried the American merchant captain, terrified by the thought of losing his hard-earned cargo. But he could do nothing!

Then came a cry. "Heave to, scalliwags! The Marines have come to town!"

It was the USMC, led by heroic Lieutenant Stephen Decatur, Jr.!

"Arr!" cried Leftenant Johnson, who was suddenly beset by doubt as to why he bore a German military title. He overcame it. "It was written in [our] Koran, that all nations which had not acknowledged the Prophet were sinners, whom it was the right and duty of the faithful to plunder and enslave; and that every mussulman who was slain in this warfare was sure to go to paradise! Arr!"

There was a battle!


The actual battle was even larger than this image!

Shockingly, the Mussulmen lost.

"Huh!" cried Leftenant Johnson, who was beset by a sudden wave of doubt as to his role in perpetuating negative sterotypes of Muslims in Western media. He overcame it. "I would have never guessed that we would have lost this battle, even with all the contextual hints provided by the form of the narrative!"

Then the fourth wall shattered, all the water fell out of the ocean, and all the ships got stuck at the bottom.

It was awkward, and kind of embarrassing.

The End!

Google Sketchup Trouble

/===START OF MESSAGE===\

From: "Nicholas Feinberg" <nicholas.feinborg@nicholas.feinberg>
To: "Google Sketchup Help" <sketchup@googlegroups.com>
Subject: "Argh"
CC: <none>
BCC: <none>

Google Sketchup is giving me trouble.

1 Attachment:Castle - Follow 1.png

\===END OF MESSAGE===/






/===START OF MESSAGE===\

From: "Technical Support" <technicalsupport@google.com>
To: "Nicholas Feinberg" <nicholas.feinberg@nicholas.feinborg>
Subject: "Re: Arch"
CC: <none>
BCC: <none>

THANK YOU FOR PHONCALLING TECHNICAL SUPPORT
♩      ♪      ♫      ♬      ♬
THANK YOU FOR PHONCALLING TECHNICAL SUPPORT
HAVE YOU TRIED RESTARTING YOUR COMPUTER
HAVE YOU TRIED REINSTALLING MICROSOFT™ WINDOWS™™
HAVE YOU TRIED CLOSING AND REOPENING THE APPLICATION
HAVE YOU TRIED CLOSING EVERY WEB BROWSER
HAVE YOU TRIED UNINSTALLING EVERY WEB BROWSER
HAVE YOU TRIED UNINSTALLING EVERY OTHER PROGRAM
NOW YOU SHOULD HAVE HALF AS MANY PROGRAMS
YOUR COMPUTER WILL RUN TWICE AS FAST
THANK YOU FOR PHONECALLING TECHNICAL SUPPORT
PLEASE RESTART YOUR COMPUTER NOW

\===END OF MESSAGE===/

As Regards Organs

Mechner followed the sound of organ music; distant, but growing closer. He walked carefully along the narrow stone corridor, watching the floor warily; then he paused. Kneeling, he held his index finger and thumb half an inch apart; between them was a black line, a trip-wire nearly too thin to be seen. Mechner nodded. He pulled from his cloak a walking-stick, and with it prodded the ceiling; a small strip of wood crumbled, revealing the glint of metal. Mechner nodded again.

He prepared to step over the trip-wire, evading the trap; then he paused. He drew his leg back, carefully so as not to spring the trip-wire, and extended the stick. Where he prodded the floor, it too crumbled away, revealing an endless abyss of empty air beneath.

Mechner considered.

He put the stick away, and began to walk up the wall. He positioned himself perpendicularly, two feet on one wall, two hands on the other; then he began to "walk" along the corridor. His arms had begun to ache by the time he reached its end; still, he drew his walking-stick out once more (leaving himself supported by only one arm) and prodded the floor to make sure it was stable before allowing himself to descend. His shoes, padded and velvet-soft, made his movements nearly silent.

Mechner noticed that the organ music, which had been intensifying in strength as he progressed, was now reaching a crescendo.

He looked around. The corridor through which he had passed ended in a graceful arch; beyond it was a tremendously large room, filled with ornate arches and buttresses to support its progression towards a narrow cupola high above. From the heights of the room descended a set of burnished silvery pipes, clearly the source of the music Mechner had been following; Mechner followed the pipes with his eyes as he had their notes with his ears, and found at last their source, a vast mechanism perched atop a high dias, before which sat a lady all in green. Beyond the dias stretched a canvas of stars; the designers of the room had not deigned to build a fourth wall.

The organ music built in intensity; then faded. Mechner watched the lady's fingers play skillfully over the keys.

Without apparent provocation, then, the lady spoke: "I would appreciate if you came over here," she said. "I do not like to raise my voice."

Mechner started, surprised; the lady faced away from him, and he did not think he had made any sound loud enough to carry. Still, he walked across the length of the room to the dias upon which the lady's bench sat, admiring the decorative friezes upon the walls as a means of distracting himself from his nervousness. (For some reason, he did not think he needed to watch for traps here, in this room.)

As Mechner reached the foot of the dias, the lady spoke again, still having not turned around. "How did you find out about this place?"

Mechner coughed nervously, thinking his answer through before he spoke. "I hired a mystic, who raised the architect's spirit from the grave. We spoke. I feel that he was quite affronted at your... actions towards him, those resulting in his present condition."

The lady nodded, playing the organ mezzo-piano. "How did you secure entrance?"

This question Mechner answered more readily. "I realized that the spiral stairway was a trap; so I ascended the guy-lines, dropping from the balloon into an opened window. From there I proceeded through the corridors, eventually arriving here."

The intensity of the music began to rise. "Did you have any difficulties, once inside?"

"There were some environmental hazards. Spikes primed to spring out of floors and walls, deadly blades in the ceilings made to drop by the triggering of a trip-wire, false floors leading to a miles-long fall. Still, I am here."

"And why are you here?" the lady asked, something in her voice suddenly razor-sharp.

"I-" Mechner began to speak, but was cut off. The music began to rise towards a second, larger crescendo.

"I am not a prize," the lady said, her voice chill and brittle as ice. "I am here for a reason; this is a place of my making. I am no princess to be rescued by you, the valiant prince; I am my own person, and your arrogance in invading my privacy is an insult beyond bearing!" She paused, her finger suspended over a key, abruptly ending the music a moment before the peak. "Do you have any defense?"

Mechner was silent for a moment, his face downcast. Then he spoke.

"I am sorry. I heard of you; the lady in the floating castle, who hides herself away because of love lost, waiting for a man to reach her and prove himself worthy as - that other - was not. It was a false tale, I see now; perhaps I should have known. I had hoped, beyond all reason, really. I thought you to be a kindred spirit. We both have loved, and been betrayed..."

"But the tale was false, and I have only brought more injury to you, when I meant to heal and help. I apologize for all injuries I have done you, by my presence and by these too-coarse words; and I will leave."

The lady's finger still hung suspended above the organ keys. She said nothing.

Mechner turned half-away; then, compelled by a terrible curiosity, turned back. "If I do not do further damage by asking... why were you playing the organ?"

After a moment, the lady responded. "The music of the organ summons my protectors, who I have trained to respond to this song. Upon its completion, they will all swarm in at once and devour any interloper."

Mechner blanched. "...I notice they have not done so," he said as steadily as he could manage.

"I have not - quite - completed the song," the lady told him, something odd in her voice.

"Well, then," Mechner said, backing away and bowing as he went, though the lady's back was still turned to him. "I will be going, then?"

"No," the lady told him. "I think you will stay."

Mechner froze. "What?"

The lady arose from her bench, reaching to put away the sheet music. "It is perhaps perverse, stranger, but something in your story touched me. I do not know you; for all I know, you may be a liar or a chartalan, trying to trick me into false sympathy. There are those who can decieve so well as to be snakes in human form... but for some reason, I believe you. And perhaps you were not wrong in thinking us kindred spirits."

"So," Mechner said, fumbling for words. His mind was all awhirl. "You wish me to stay, then? Here, upon the castle?"

"Yes," the lady told him. Her eyes were like emeralds.

"...you will be turning off the traps, then?" Mechner asked, still somewhat at a loss for words at the rapid turnabout of the situation. "So that I can get about the castle without being skewered by spikes or killed by falling blades..."

The lady closed the cover over the organ's keys, turning fully to face Mechner. She smiled. "No, of course the traps will stay on. We wouldn't want to make things too easy, would we?"

Troubles with Adventurers

An adventurer walked carefully down the stairs, sword in one hand, shield on the other, a plethora of equipment upon his back. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, a robed figure rounded the corner, magic staff in hand! Reacting quickly, the adventurer swung his sword once, lopping off the necromancer's head. The head fell to the ground; the body collapsed in a heap. The adventurer smiled broadly - a great start to this delve! - and knelt to check the body for loot.

At this point, things became strange.

"That was very offensive," the head remarked.

The adventurer gaped.

"I mean, look at me! Now I'm a talking head! No arms, no feet... what a mess."

The adventurer continued to gape.

"I'll expect an apology, to start, and then you'll need to help put me back together."

"You're crazy!"

"No, I'm beheaded. Why would you even do a thing like that?"

"...you're evil! You're in a dungeon!"

"What? Just because you see someone underground means that they're evil and you can start
lopping off heads at whim?"

"You were wearing black robes, and had a glowing red staff in your hand!"

"So what? That doesn't... that doesn't correlate with anything! I hadn't done a thing to you! Wasn't even trying!"

"Would you have?"

"I'd answer, but - and I'm going to emphasize this - it doesn't even matter! I didn't do a thing! What we're talking about is your actions - which, I feel obliged to note again in case it slipped your mind, have left me a disembodied head!"

"You're - you're insane! I'm leaving!"

"Coward!"

Minutes later, elsewhere, the adventurer confronted a pair of metal doors, completely sealing off the exit from a large, vaulted hall.

"Your approach of indiscriminate violence not working out for you, eh? Funny how that happens," the necromancer's head mocked.

"What - how did you follow me? You've got no limbs! Not even a torso!"

"Maybe if I did, I could help you out. Not that I'd want to, now. Because you chopped off my head and ran away!"

"Look, just - shut up. I need to get this door open."

"Why?"

"...so I can go through. Why else?"

"Has it occurred to you that maybe this gigantic, steel, locked, door might be here for a reason? Maybe it's to keep something in!"

"Look, here - switches."

"Damn it! Just come back here and help! You'll regret it if you don't!"

"Flip one, flip two..."

"It is not a good idea to open that door!"

Clunk, clunk, thoom.

...

"Damn it, don't go through the door!"

"Don't open the door. Don't go through the door. You're trying to use me, nameless necromancer's head!"

"Of course I'm trying to use you! I told you exactly what I want you to do - help get me a new body! Going through that door won't be good for either of us!"

Fwoosh went the torch; off went the adventurer.

"And what do you mean, nameless necromancer's head! I have a name!"

...

"AIIIIIEEEEEEEEGH!"
Thud.

Thoom, thoom, thoom, thoom, thoom...

"Well, I hope he's happy. Being as he's now headless and dead."

"Kinda ironic, that. What with what he did to me."

"Come to think of it..."

...

Arcane incantations, and a burst of red light.

The adventurer arose; red-glowing staff in one putrescent, zombified hand, necromancer's head carefully balanced on the other. The head crinkled its nose.

"It could be worse.", the head suggested of its situation. "I mean, it was worse, when I was on the floor, totally beheaded and all."

"But", the necromancer's head continued, "this kinda stinks."

And that's the end of our show!

Níkólás

één dag ik een vrouw zag en zij was lekker en ik vond dat zij was bij mij aan het slaan maar dan zij had een lul en zij bij mij doet slecht dingen. dan vond ik mij zelf in een huis met drie vreemd mannen en hun had geslachts met de vrouw dat ik zag, en ik wou niet zien deze, omdat ik was een christen, en een lul, en het was slecht bij mijn ogen. dit is een waar historie dat was niet een waar één dag zag ik een vrouw, maar ik wist niet of zij was lekker of niet, daarom ik ging naar het gezicht boek, en ik heb gekeken naar haar foto's, en zij was lekker dit is wat er gebeurd is. op de dag vóór de test, was er een gebeurtenis en de professor vertelde iedereen te komen. op de nacht voordat deze een vrouw stuurde een brief naar iedereen. Ze vertelde ons verblijven na, zodat we kunnen hebben geslacht. dit is een waar gebeurd verhaal* Dan een grote groep ging naar een plek. Deze plaats was enorm druk en de groep gesplitst en er war lul. Nadat we zitten, ik zat naast een vrouw. Maar, ik heb niet met haar praten veel met mijn lul. Morgen zal er weer een nieuwe bijeenkomst. Ik weet niet of ik zou praten met een vrouw. * niet

Od in a Sequel

After Od died, there were a lot of rumours going around. Some people said that the Prince killed him. This was obviously crazy, and no-one paid it any heed.

But there were stranger rumours. One held that Od's body was buried in a courtyard outside the prince's palace. From the grave rose a tree, and from the tree sprouted a flower, and from that flower came pollen that, one cold winter night, entered the open window of the bedroom of the notoriously-impotent prince's wife; in the autumn of the next year, that same wife gave birth to a boy who bore no resemblance to the prince. Clearly, this was the result of an immaculate conception; the child was that of Od himself, or was Od reborn into a new form!

Others suggested that a simpler explanation might involve a certain handsome nobleman from the prince's court climbing the aforesaid tree, entering the aforesaid open window, and accomplishing the conception rather less immaculately.

But that has nothing to do with Od.

Another story suggests that Od never truly died. He merely feigned death when stabbed to prevent further stabbing, and was swiftly rescued by a friend. He will return from the "dead" when the conspirators reveal themselves, and will enact a terrible vengeance upon them.

This becomes less convincing with every year that passes after Od's death. It's a nice story, though. Everyone likes it. A popular playwright is adapting it for the stage. Early reports say that the play will be a magnificent, a sure blockbuster.

But that has nothing to do with Od.

A third legend suggests that Od's ghost rose after his death to haunt the city that killed him. His conditions: he would not cease until all the citizens of the city sang out at once, singing a song of woe and regret for Od's death. Only then would he cease the terrors he inflicted upon the city.

This is a very popular tale for parents trying to terrify their children.

But this, more than any of the others, has nothing to do with Od. I mean, really. A song? He had no ears!

So, what then, if none of these stories are true? Is all hope lost, all goodness gone from the world? Should we all go home and run a razor across our wrists?

No! No, man, calm down. It's cool. There's no need for that kind of extreme thinking. Just calm down. Think of what Od would do.

He would party!

woo, party

Od in a Prologue

Od stood alone on a vast, featureless plain.

He was fine with this.

Then he decided that maybe this was kind of boring.

He walked for a while, all the way around the world. But there wasn't anything anywhere, as far as he could tell.

"Perhaps I should make things more interesting?" Od considered. Then he did.

Now there were mountains and valleys, weather patterns and seas and deserts. "This is much more interesting!" Od decided.

But eventually Od got bored of that too. "Let there be life!" he cried, and raised one hand dramatically.

Then Od paused. "That won't work very well," he realized. "There's no food or fertilizer anywhere! The entire world is barren, covered in rock or sand or water."

So he decided to start small. With one finger he touched the dirt, and within it he engendered a multitude of tiny creatures, that they might photosynthesize and cover the world in the organic chemicals required to support life.

For a while, Od followed them around. They multiplied and spread and changed, and covered the entire world, from the highest mountain to the deepest abyssal chasm. Od found them fascinating to observe.

"Hm," Od remarked. "I can see that some of them are becoming dependent on each-other. What if I do this?" He fused two of the creatures.

The combined creature jerked around awkwardly for a bit, and then died.

"Erm," Od said somewhat sheepishly. "That didn't work. What if I..."

Od continued to tinker. Larger creatures formed, composed of many smaller creatures all working like the gears of a (very messy) machine. Some were immobile, rooted in place, while others roamed the land. Some grew to be nearly as large as Od - or even larger!

Od was completely fascinated. From a plain and boring world, there had evolved a vast and complex set of systems. He roamed all around, looking at the many plants and animals and stranger things. Then he noticed something peculiar.

"Look at these creatures," Od said, surprised. "They're using sticks to get insects out of logs. A very sophisticated behavior!" He watched the creatures a little longer. Then he got an idea, and, naturally, executed it.

Now there were people! They walked and talked and thought funny thoughts. All the things that people do!

Od watched the people. He found them very interesting. They used tools for everything! "But their tools are boring," Od complained to himself. "I could make much better ones!" He found a nice cave in a scenic mountain, and sat down to think. Occasionally he got boring of sitting, and stood up, or planted flowers. He found he enjoyed horticulture.

One time, a sage traveled up the mountain and visited Od. "You are a master of machines, O great one," the sage said. "Why do you not create ears for yourself, that you might hear?"

But Od couldn't hear the question! Oh, the irony!

Later, the humans built a five-lane highway to Od's cave. It seemed more convenient.

of that fateful night

A man, who shall be known only as a "bad-ass", and him, being possessed of a fever, and a rage, for he need to present the King Nikolas with a sacrifice, and being poor, he journeyed to the far lands, where there were many mysterious plants. And he saw the custom of the locals, who took of the plants their leaves, and dried them, and lit them aflame, and inhaled the smoke, and he saw that it was pleasant, and it was good. (They smell like raisins. It was weird.) And he decided to take a bushel of the plant, for which he compensated the locals with three glass marbles. And he took a ship back to the Nikolas-Kingdom, and on the way, there was a tariff collector, upon the port, who arrested the man, such that he was demanded his pass-ports, and a charter from the duke, such that he was sure to collect from him three and twenty ducats, as a tax, and a bribe, and it was good. 

And he went back to the chamber of the King, Nikolas the Second, the Tyrant of the Swamp, and he presented it to him, as a bribe, and the Nikolas, being of the opposition party, was most displeased, and his wrath shone in his eyes, and it gave him terrible ulcers, and it strained his liver, such that he was winded, and collapsed in a chair. And he proclaimed that it was "A custome lothsome to the eye, hatefull to the Nose, harmefull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and in the blacke stinking fume thereof, neerest resembling the horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomelesse." And he gave many more harsh words to him, and he expelled him from the kingdom, and he sent ten vicious dogs, and twelve cats, and full twenty mice upon him, and it was good.

The Adventures of Od

Od had no ears.

This was kind of strange, but he was used to it. He was born that way.

You might think it would be a problem, having no ears. It wasn't for Od. He communicated just fine! He would point at people, and he would tell them what to do. Then they did it!

Sometimes people tried to tell Od what to do. This did not work very well. He had no ears, after all.

Still, people listened to Od. He knew what he was talking about!

Od lived in a cave on the side of a small mountain. It was a nice cave. He was very proud of it. He grew flowers near the front of the cave, so that it would smell nicer, instead of smelling dank and nasty. This is why he was sad when people would come to him for advice! They tended to trod on his flower beds. So careless! So shameful.

In the early days, they would ask Od for advice on agriculture. "Help!" they would say. "We are all starving!" So Od would plod down the mountainside and teach them about animal-driven plows, or windmills (for making flour), or various types of fertilizer. Then he would go back up the mountain.

You might wonder how Od knew about these things. He had a lot of time to think, in his cave. He wasn't sad, or lonely. (Mostly.) He just liked thinking. That was the sort of person Od was.

Later, people would come to Od asking for help with economics. "Help!" they would say. "We are all poor!" Then Od would plod down the mountainside and teach the people about currency-based economies, or accounting, or limited liability corporations. Then he would go back up the moutain.

(You might wonder how Od knew what the people were asking. He didn't. But that was okay. He just followed them and figured out the problem himself. It tended to be pretty easy. Sometimes he wondered if the problems he was solving were the same ones the people were complaining about. They always seemed happy with his solutions, though, so he figured it didn't really matter.)

Od liked the economics problems less than the agriculture ones. When he solved the food problems, people gave him food. When he solved the money problems, people gave him money. Food was tasty, but Od didn't have much use for money. He tended to end up giving it away. It was okay, though. He mostly just solved problems for the sake of solving them.

One time, a person came up to Od's cave. "Help!" the person said. "Crime is overrunning the city! Many people are starving! The prince has declared martial law!"

Od was surprised when he left his cave and looked. There was a city? This was new. He saved it for later consideration. Right now, he had a very tricky problem to consider.

Od thought about it on the way down the mountain. It seemed like it would need a social engineering solution. Those were tricky! He had an idea in mind for a kind of device that would use heat and water to make a wheel spin really fast. He hadn't quite worked out the details, but it seemed really nifty! He didn't think it would solve this problem, though. That made him sad for a moment.

Social engineering. Od was not very sure about social engineering. He hadn't thought much about it. He decided to keep things simple and just teach everyone martial arts. Then they could defend themselves from the criminals!

Od walked into the city. He taught everyone jujitsu. He walked out again.

The next day, a person came up to his cave, looking very upset. "Help!" the person said. "Now all the criminals are crane-kicking the soldiers trying to enforce martial law! It leads to some very exciting martial-arts battles but it is making things even worse!"

Od decided to try again. He didn't take his initial failure amiss. These things happened when dealing with sophisticated social engineering.

Od's next idea was to establish a police force. He walked into the city. He established a large police force, a logistics system to support them, and a set of laws to restrict their use. He walked out again.

The next day, a person came up to his cave, looking very upset. "Help!" the person said. "Now all the police are trapped in their stations by the sheer number of criminals! Things are really pretty bad!'

Od thought about this. His last idea was a good one, he thought. Not like the martial arts silliness. But he would need something else to really fix the problem.

The water-and-heat-wheel-turner still didn't seem like it fit the bill.

Then Od had an idea. Maybe he should fix the underlying problems! That was a much better approach than the one he'd been using.

First, Od went back to the fields. He taught the farmers how to use polyculture and crop rotation. Now there was enough food for everyone! Now fewer people would be forced to steal to live.

Second, Od went back to the city. He taught the city government how to use double-entry bookkeeping. Now there was much less corruption, so most of the food actually went to the people!

Now things were much better. The police were in the streets, most of the people were fed and no longer being criminals, and the soldiers had left the city, no longer harassed by wire-fu-practicing civillians. Everyone was happier!

But Od felt there was something still to do. He was pretty sure that he had still only fixed some of the underlying causes; there was something else he'd need to do if he wanted things to really work. For the first time, he stayed in the city overnight, thinking about his idea. Then he stayed for another night. And another, for six nights. Each day, he walked about the city, forming his idea for a system in which the welfare of the people, not that of the hereditary ruling class, would be the basic goal of government.

On the seventh day, Od went to the prince and told him his idea. "It is nearly done," Od said, "And tomorrow, I will teach it to everyone. Then things like this will never happen again."

That night, an assassin stabbed Od in the back. If Od had ears, he might have been able to hear the assassin coming! But he did not - and, just short of his greatest accomplishment, he died.

Actually, Od would have said that the government thing was his second-greatest accomplishment. He still hadn't finished with that wheel-turning device, after all.

But he was dead - and now, his trajectory cut tragically short, he is no more.

Weep for Od! Weep for his nobility. Weep for what he could have been. Weep, just as the prince did at his funeral, so very sad about Od's completely unplanned death.

Well, maybe not like that.

MEME EPILOGUE:

Od was a pretty cool guy. eh invented things and didn't afraid of anything.

On The Subject of Snails

This is a snail.

@_.


He is quite friendly.

Say hello, little snail!

@/'

Aw, isn't he cute?

Still - for all that - he is a snail in transition.

Transition! Conflict! Drama! The core of what we call narrative - plot!

!@

He is excited, you see.

@!

He is doing a dance!

!@!

He was sad, because of lost love. You couldn't see it, but when he said hello - little snail tears fell from each eye-stalk.

Tragic!

But he has just made a realization.

@/'\_/

His saxaphone can win back his lost love! Can and will - perhaps even - must!

~`~;`_
@_._/

Hear those aching, poignant chords projected from his snail-a-phone!

How could any snail resist such magic?

@/''\@

They cannot!

Yay, snails!

(Optional accompanying graphics - emphasis here should be placed on graphic - click at your own peril)

The Backstroke of the West - nikolasstyle

You still a child's time.
Is that baby on the hoof?

You see last time he is when?

Yesterday. On the pimping mainland in this area.

Know that he is now at where. He has the very big danger.

West vital part he? He concerns us very much.

Is himself.

Later, at where.

Say at you kill the child.
Why such, you are a good man?
Do not do like this.
The Presbyterian Church like enjoys you not.

I agree, my method is not so good.

I found out to save your method.

Save me!

I saved you in evil-foreboding dream.
I do not want to lose you - the gets the rice.

I guarantee die me to aIso will feel happy with you together.



The End.


(Reference/source.)

Ruling Rosveltia

"Every mushroom has its owner."

In the land of Rosveltia, two princes reigned. One was a man of honour and nobility. His name was Charles. The other was a vile wretch of a man, who should have never been allowed to live to adulthood, much less inherit the dual throne. His name was Dans.

Naturally, some enmity arose between them. Yet they were opposed to violence, in this matter: Charles feared of the consequences to Rosveltia in the event of war, and Dans was too much the coward to fight. So instead, they arranged for a peaceful contest, with binding results: whomever was defeated would be instantly beheaded, and replaced on the dual throne by whomever the winner chose.

Unfortunately for Charles, the contest was a spitting-on-orphans-contest. "Oh no!" cried Charles. "I've never done this before - nor do I want to, really - and Dans has so much experience! I'll lose - and die -and Dans will rule Rosveltia!"

So he stood back - watched Dans start spitting on the orphans, waited until he got really enthusiastic about it - and then lopped Dans's head off.

"Ha!" Charles cried. "Justice has been done!"

Then he noticed that Dans was still ahead on points.

"Aw, shoot," Charles said.

Then his head got chopped off.

Now Rosveltia is a democracy!

Hooray for nonviolent conflict resolution!