The Dark Cell part 3 of 5.

3 of 5.

DK destroyed the last enemy tank, now a pile of molten metal and burning flesh. The dark miasma had lift under the heat of the main energy canon. The battle field was his, and DK stood there, calm like a lion over the dead remains of his pray. Glorious. The men in the room were dazzled and soon, when the fine and extremely expensive champagne started to be served, was clear that the United Nations Military Defense Force just become another happy costumer of the Odin Arms Industry, the largest and now the most powerful corporation on the face of the Earth. She watched the powerful men drinking the champagne and laughing and she felt a dark cold rage inside her: Do they even care about the fact that the people who bottled such fancy drinks in France were all dead? A entire country? And you Frederick? Did you remember Francine? Oh, don’t worry, she whispered to herself with a mischievous, malicious smile: I will make sure you remember.

Back to memory lane, nine months after the alien attack. Was strange, Alien attack sounded too eerie, to absurd to be serious, but it was. She and Francine started to work directly under the command of one of largest arms manufacturer of the world, the Odin Arms Corporation.

-Dear, you have to look this new data from the field… It’s WAY worst than we believed…

-Fran, don’t scare me. How bad can it be?

-The alien… organisms simply grow up around and inside machinery like tanks and war ships, but… Well, just take a look…

She grab the tablet, and browse over the raw data.

-Fuck…? The damn tank becomes a living thing?!? Organic metallic and ceramic armor? Organic engines? Oh shit. No wonder they can take so much punishment, they can heal, HEAL damage!

-Oh yeah, at a stupidly dreadful rate: they heal at least five to eight times faster than humans, without feeding or refueling, as far as we know. Fuck physics, I guess. Fred said it will be on the news tomorrow. Hasty decision if you ask me…

-Francine… Still having this…after work relationship with Frederick?

-Yes… But it’s just for fun. I don’t know why you become so afraid of him in the last months, he is just the same corporation hotshot as before.

She gulped, remembering not only the satisfaction on Frederick’s face in euthanizing her cats, but to force her to implant similar chips on the brains of humans. Volunteers, he said. But they looked more like hostages, hostages that feared the young man to the point to let him implant chips on their brains and… mess with their mind architecture, causing…

-It’s nothing…really. Look Fran, just… don’t get too close. He isn’t a nice guy.

Fran raised a eyebrow, at first to mock, but the stern look on Michele face, silent her.

-…You know what, mon cher? I can find better man! Now come here!

Francine hugged Michele tenderly. In the last months, Michele lost everything that resembled a family in the endless wars that erupted around the world. Fran was now her sister, mother, her best and only friend, and Francine treasured it.

-Look mon cher, let’s put a lid on it, d’accord?

-Right…! Look… tomorrow is…

-Your birthday! Yay! Excited?

-Not much…

-You better be! I arranged a party, lot’s of those nerds from chaos mathematic analytic research, you know, the adorable ones!

-You…

-Of course I will, silly. You think I would miss my  besty’s birthday party?!

The harshness of the memories forced Michele back to the present. Francine never went to that party. She remember how people told her that she probably lost the time or got caught on another appointment, but she insisted that something was wrong. They won’t listen to her, even after they found out that her cell-phone was off-line, and that no one saw her leaving the laboratory that night. When two policemen entered and asked for her attention, she already knew what happened.

She got up, brushed the hair and walked to a large armored door, which opened to her without any need for commands or passwords: BK, Bee Kay, DK older “sister”, a AI, took care of that part of the complex, and BK like all Michelle’s “babies” knew who her mommy was.

-Bee?

-Yes mom?

-Things went as expected, and considering that money to buy guns was never an issue to those fine gentlemen, I think is safe to say we will soon start the mass production of DK-129 sentient tanks. How we are on that?

-Mom, twelve of our 45 large heavy assembly lines are already prepared. We have 80 units, the mass production model, ready for deployment. We will have another 62 ready by the end of the week. Once we start the production at full capacity, we will be able to deliver 12 new units every two weeks. More, if another large assembly lines are designated to this project. All material, ammo and other surplus are already safeguarded.

-Bunch of idiots. If you were on the helm we would deliver 12 new units per day…!

-Thank you mother, but I must disagree. My analysis says that my top production would be of only 9 units per week.

-Ah Bee, you are my very special girl… And the OS? Any problems?

-No, the latest version you designed has the same performance than the last, plus more stability when facing logic paradoxes.

-Good, that wraps everything with a big ribbon…

She walked away. Part of her felt guilt, but then the rage, the cold discrete rage, came and murdered any possible regret she could still have. OS.DKVs7… It was her gift, to all of them, those bloody, murderous bastards.  

Porcelain dolls

one more short tale i wrote for /x/

PORCELAIN DOLLS.

Fred woke up from his uncomfortable sleep. Not that the first class was bad, but the dreams, oh, those were dreadful. His grandmother house, old and scary, and all those dolls…

-Fuck, my head is killing me…

He press the button to call the flight attendant, he really need a aspirin… and something strong to drink.

As he straight up in his chair, he notice something eerie next to him: In the chair close to the window, at his left, a small blanket cover something.

-Strange- He think- I bought both seats… what could be it?

Curious, he pull the blanket. Underneath, a beautifully crafted porcelain doll, with long curly hair, white face and red lips.

He jump in his chair. Oh he hated those! In his mind the voice of his grandmother, proud full owner of hundreds of those creepy things:

-Freddy-She would say- pay attention to the quality of the hair! It’s the real thing. Sometimes they took the hair of dead little girls, that’s how things were back then.

Repulsing, unfunny and undeserved. He don’t bothered anyone aboard, so why would anyone pull such prank…

-Calm down… It’s just a doll. I bet a little girl left it there by mistake…

For the first time, he gave a good look around the first class: Everything was dark and quiet. Few lights were still on. He found no one sitting close to him, strange, well someone changed chairs, right. He got up and walked to one of the places where the light was on.

He bent over to start a conversation, but he almost felt backwards: A doll, a porcelain doll, sit on the chair, a book open over her frilly dress, and a cryptic look in her eyes.

Oh yes, the eyes, she was looking at him.

He went back to his seat with the heart pounding. Once there, he covered the doll, and pressed the button like mad.

-Cmmon where are the damn flight attendant?

-Excuse me sir, did you call?

Finally, she was there. He begun to turn to the voice, but what he saw hit him like a punch in the stomach. He let go a laud cry of fear: A doll, another damned porcelain doll, over the flight attendant cart. Talking to him.

--Sir!? Please, you will wake up the other passengers! What’s wrong?

He raced through the corridor, looking in every chair. And in every single one, a damned doll, looking at him, like little demons with glass eyes and wicked smiles.

Suddenly one reach and touch his shoulder, he cry and slap it away.

-NOO, get away from me! Dolls…Dolls! Everywhere!!

His only chance is to go forward, the cabin, it may be locked…but… he have to try.

Desperate, he run and see the door opening slowly.

No time to explain, he must enter!

He throw himself against the door and enter the pilots cabin:

-HELP, HELP THE…

His voice dies, as he look and see…

Dolls, Porcelain dolls, everywhere.

Hours later, a man is taken away in a straight jacket in a busy airport. A pilot talk to a flight attendant:

-What the hell was that?

-I don’t know… he just kept talking about dolls…

FIN 

RAT MAN.

Lurking on /x/, i made this short tale, please, enjoy!

RAT MAN.

Craven woke up with the burning Sun on his tiny rat eyes. Small and scared eyes, constantly seeking food or danger, like everything else on Craven, they looked more suitable to a rodent than for a man. But maybe because he was such a “man-rat” he was alive.

When all the rest where dead.

Every single one, dead. Dead. Dead.

He felt sorry for himself, was horrible to be alone in such horrible world, cursed the others for dying, and enjoyed a cruel pleasure thinking that his “enemies” were all dead too, from bullies to bosses. Scum.

Scum.

He dragged his tiny thin body to the ledge and looked down: His “rat nest” was nothing but a concrete slab, unreachable to most, dangling over the ruined city.

Cowering like a vermin, he peeked: No movement, everything clear.

They could be awaiting down there.

With great dexterity he slipped his body all the way down to the street, and without a noise landed on the cracked sidewalk.

Then he runned, from shadow to shadow, corner to corner, playinga one-man hide and seek, till he found a store: Global HiperMarket.

After hours gathering cans of food he decided to run back home, when he heard a noise: someone dragging foots outside the store.

*

A coward, Craven decided not to investigate. Better run, he thought with his tiny rat brain, and sprinted to the back door.

Again on the dead streets, he saw them. They found him, again.

Half a dozen of decaying, stiff corpses, some grayish, others dark, all dragging their bodies... in his direction. Tall and short, man and women, even child, they were there, monsters hunting him.

-NOOO! S..Stay away!

Stuttering curses and tripping on his own feet he tried to fled, with the undead on his heels.

One was a woman, with a rotting round face, fat, using a apron and spiting a dark mucus from her mouth as she tried to scream something:

-Ungrateful...

-No! You monster, I... I am not ungrateful!

Other zombie, older, decrepit, his lower jaw nothing more than bones and maggots growled with anger:

-You coward, you sissy...

-Shut up,  SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW! YOU ARE DEAD I AM NOT!

He trip on a rock and felt, twisting his ankle and dropping the cans he gathered before. Hands and knees bleeding, unable to stand, he scream and cry.

*

-Wimp, always...crying...-A tall strong undead mocked with a grin.

Ashamed of his own tears, furious with the mockery, he try to reach one of the cans, but instead he grab something soft, dead, rot. A little girl’s ankle. She stand there, with piercing eyes, at her side a woman, her mother. He know it.

-Liar. And assassin.

He gasp losing any control he had over himself:

-No! No! I just wanted to stay alive! I had to do it...!I’TS NOT MY FAULT!

He feels the strong cold grasp of two large hands on his shoulders, and as he look up to his capturer, he recognize a man from his past.

-Craven, you always try to dodge responsibility. Craven, the Rat Man.

The sinister mob repeats:

-Craven! The RAT man! RAT man!

The old woman talk again:

-Ungrateful son, I feed you, I lived for you, but when you got big enough, you did nothing but stealing and beating me. In the end, you thrown me from the stairs, all to sell the house I lived in.

Again the mob cried in one voice:

-Craven! Ungrateful rat man!! RAT man!

The other zombie looked at him with disgust:

-Wimp...Coward... and a Sissy. That’s what you are. No, not my grandson, since small, only stealing, only backstabbing. You are no good!

-Craven! You are no good! RAT man!

*

-Wimp... Never accomplished nothing, always afraid of everything... pretending to be a poor nice person, before biting the hand that helps you. I remember those false tears. I saved you that day, took care of your lazy ass, and during my sleep, you cut my throat...Traitor!

-Craven! Traitor! Rat man!!!

He tried to brake free, but only felt on the middle of the group of undead, dozens of them. Now was the woman with the little girl who spoke:

-Liar. And assassin. We found you in the waste lands, and we brought you to our house. But how you paid us back? You put rat poison in our food. Treacherous murder...Killed for nothing more than a blanket and a gallon of rain water. Scum!

-CRAVEEEN!!! SSSSCUM!! RAT MAN SCUM!!!

-NO!!

The last zombie, the taller and stronger of them all picked one of the cans that were laying on the floor:

-You are like a rat carrying the plague, kill everyone you touch. A liar, a coward, a murderer. The last man on earth. Night and day you give yourself a little tap on the back, because you outlived society, and even justice. But deep inside, you know that no one can escape justice.

And the large zombie throw the can in his head, cutting his scalp.

-That’s why you create us: Your past, back from the dead, to haunt you. To punish you. To make justice to the last man on Earth.

Some zombies threw rocks, other cans, other delivered kicks, punches, bites. As the day become night, he screamed, in the dark, were his mind gave him...a death worth of a rat.

Fin.

last ghouls galore submission.

My last ghouls galore submission, was a fun ride, please enjoy!

She stood with the letter opener in her hands; wearing the silk nightdress. She woke up, unsure if the crashing noise was real or just a bad dream, when the footsteps begun: in the kitchen. When the foot steps start climbing the stairs, she jumped and locked her door. Strange gurgling sounds come from the bathroom. She weighted her options: her bedroom was too high to jump, and no one would come in the next couple days. Unlocking the door, she walked toward the stairs. To get there, she had to cross the bathroom, the door wide open, lights lit, as if waiting for her. She decided to run. She was the fastest runner in the town. But a dark figure eclipsed her plans: A creature, tall, covered with long brown fur and sharp claws, left the bathroom looking at her, and with imperative commanded: GIRL! Where you keep the damn antacids?!

Stunned, she answered automatically: B...bottom, left drawer!!

It turned around, into the bathroom. Oblivious to what his appearance caused, it kept talking: My bowels are killing me! This borborygmic noises, why I ate so much? Damn kids!

She whispered: it...ate kids?

She got up and ran away, down the stairs and into the night. Probably breaking a couple records. The monster kept on: ... Kids! They say: “try this one! And this!” But I’m not young! I can’t eat so much candy...Where are you girl? Eh, no respect for the elderly! What a thing leaving without saying goodbye!

Ghouls Galore Challenge 3rd Week!

Absquatulante Gormagon!

Two guards rushed inside the museum storage room. It’ was past midnight and the only one who should be there, besides them of course, was the curator, and old, strange man, that was laying on the floor. The blood, drained from his face, the few hairs he had left on his head, raised, eyes wide open, staring at a large, empty crate were they could read “unidentified animal remains, mummified- 1880”.

-Doctor? What happened?

The old man stuttered: -An Absquatulante Gormagon…!

Both guards exchanged confused glances.

-A what?

-An Absquatulante Gormagon, idiot! It took my pocket watch…! And will probably steal other things!

So was a thief, no need to use fancy words... The guards asked:

-Okay, we can handle it, now please, describe the thief!

-Yes … where should I start?

-Hair color, clothes, anything!

-Eyes! I saw them clearly! One was green!

-Good… please continue!

- And it also had a blue eye! And a hazel!

-… You said before it was green!

-ONE of them was green! The other three were brown.

-…How many thieves you saw?

-One! It was naked! And was four meters tall, had three mouths…

-Wait, seriously?

-Of course!! Look, it steals things for fun…where are you going? I have more details …wait for me, hey!

Hidden in the darkness, the odd Gorgamon watched the trio. By nature, he was driven to gather things-or steal you choose-and run. It played with his new golden watch, before walking deeper into the museum…

ghoul 2nd week!

Second submission to ghouls galore, was quite hard pull the rabbit out the hat this time, i hope you all enjoy!

I lay on my bed, but can’t sleep. Something is out of place. The city is quiet, once most of my neighbors decided to enjoy the holyday traveling, and I whisper to myself that I turn unaccustumed to silence, but still…I get up look through the window, where I see a strange movement. Small, dark, figures in hoods marching together, to the woods that surround this neighborhood. Curious, I follow them silently. I see them squeezing through an decadent old duct that drain the rain water and prevent the small pond from overflowing. Now I should leave, I say to myself, and maybe call someone. But I am not in control of myself anymore. I kneel and crawl on the mud into the claustrophobic darkness. I am in a place I know I shouldn’t be, where torches lit my way. I hear something, chatting, coming from hundreds of small hooded figures with hideous sharp voices. They look at me, with no surprise. One start a speech, to praise the Master of them all, the Chthonic People, Lord Lucifer. I lay down on cold stone, a defenseless lamb waiting to be sacrificed. I see a claw raising a rust dagger over my head. It’s the last thing I remember, before waking.

-God! What nightmare…

Trying to calm my nerves, I look through my window, and my blood freezes: They are there, small hooded creatures, marching into the woods.

I close the curtains, hide under the blankets, whispering…Nope! Not even in my dreams!

i Was bored...

so i made a little survey

my contribution to the internet captioned-cats tradition...

A POLTERGEIST

Old houses and their noises, what a nuisance. Every day, every night, all you need is a moment of silence, and then… bam! A door slams upstairs. You run to see what was it, but all doors are wide open, like you left them. At night you have the footsteps, calmly going from one side to the other, crossing the house. Maybe someone is having trouble sleeping, but… you live alone.

Sunday morning’s are as bad as night: everyone sleeping, the neighborhood quiet, birds chirping, and something dragging itself across the living room, but if you try to peek at it, you will never see what was.

Sometimes you turn the TV on just to have noise, like it could ward of the noises, but how can you ignore the sound of a glass breaking in the kitchen, or the shower turning on in the bathroom? That deep, cold, breathing sound few inches away of your ear, even under the blanket…?

 Sometimes is even worst: I can hear someone typing, in my computer, in the office, just few steps away from the bedroom. And in the morning I know I will find something written there, a boustrophedon, left to right, right to left, in caps as if someone was angry, saying again and again…

“STOP MAKING NOISE IN MY HOUSE MY IN NOISE MAKING STOP MAKING NOISE IN MY HOUSE MY IN NOISE MAKING STOP MAKING NOISE IN MY HOUSE”.

Silence: It is golden, not only for me, I guess.

it gonna be fun to read and write! now lets see if i can get the ol'brain back to work!
http://ladyantimony.blogspot.com/2011/10/new-challenge.html

YOU NEED A HERO chapter 6.

0006#

Step after step they walked into the dark building and there they made the first discovery of the night: Outside the building was a decaying old warehouse, barely standing up. But it was noting but a facade, the interior was a cold, modern concrete building.

-What a fuck…? Is it some kind of movie scenario or something?

-You know as much as I do Josh… And brace yourself… More shit on our way…

The entire first floor was a exercise room, more equipped than most gyms, with one singularity that Josh was the first to notice:

-This entire place… it look like it was designed to be used by only one person…

Sammy took a depth breath:

-So our star is a real athlete, I wonder how he paid for all this freaking structure.

The atmosphere was more and more sinister. Outside, the sound of sirens and the mob growling furious, inside, not a single sound but their our footsteps.

Was easy to find the stairs to the second floor, there, another kind of “exercise room”, a much more devious one:

-Holy mother of …Ok, now I’m freaking out…

The walls and even the ceiling were covered of photos, diagrams, hand drawings of the human body, not artistic, anatomic depictions of the human body. And hanging from the walls, skeletons and skulls, real or made of plastic, hundreds of them. Eight large metallic boxes laid in the middle of the vast room.

-Josh, what are you doing?

-Sammy… I have a bad feeling about what is inside those boxes, and I have to check it.

Carefully, and using his handkerchief, he lifted the lid of each metal coffin, and what was inside almost made Sammy throw up.

-Oh shit! Oh shit Josh! Heads!!! Fucking heads, dozens of them! I knew this guy was sick, but this…!

-I don’t think he killed those people. The way they are kept, the cuts, those are corpses like the ones you find in med schools. And let me add, few med schools in the world have this much… material. Also can you smell?

Sammy tries to look at Josh, and take a deep breath:

-I can’t smell shit…

-Right. This is some kind of alkaline solution. Its insanely expensive, but it don’t let the material degrade nor smell. Sammy, no way a wacko would have all that in the middle of the town.

-So we are at the wrong place?

-No, if you look, some of the heads are punctured, others cut in half, in the same places our guy usually stab people. He used those to learn how to kill people. Also there are at least four entire bodies in pieces inside those boxes.

-I liked it more when our guy was a crazy med student on steroids…

-Me too Sammy. Me too.

They went deeper into the strange hideout, and when they got to the third and last floor, what they found only confused them:

Part of the floor was occupied with servers, humming endless. Other part was used as some kind of pharmacy, a large one. The most cryptic part was the center of the floor, where some kind of scenario, like a movie set, was up, a perfect replica of a small, dark apartment.

-Okay Josh. I think I missed the spot where we entered a x-files episode...

-What the hell is going on here? This whole shit is way too fucked…

Suddenly and without warning, the lights go off.

Both cops are skilled and seasoned officers, so they don’t panic: Getting back to back, they grab the portable flashlights and scout around.

-Timer?

-Lights downstairs are still on. Someone is here Sammy.

-Great…

The only warning they have is the sound of footsteps, but it isn’t enough to escape the first attack.

-Damn! DAMN!

-Sammy?

Josh aim his flashlight at the shadow over Sammy and he see who they have been looking for: His face, disfigured, as if something was implanted under the skin to make him look more beast than man. Was hard to look at it and not hesitate, that’s what cost Josh a deep cut in the arm. His knife was something unbelievable, so sharp that cut the skin and muscle almost without any pain. He only felt something when the warm blood start pumping out of his severed arteries. He knew that it was a serious wound.

Sammy was on the floor, she could be dead or unconscious, the fight was his to endure alone. No time for second guessing, he hammered his forehead on the killer nose. He hit hard enough to feel something breaking inside the killer’s skull, like if a pencil just snapped.

A gush of hot blood and the sound of coughing confirmed that he hit the spot.

-Fuck you, sicko!

He used his good arm to punch the killer right in the head, but he defended like a professional wrestler. The darkness look to work in his favor. Feeling the adrenaline, Josh throw his whole body against him.

This time there is no defense, and the killer fly backward, landing on the hard floor. The sound of metal sliding away in the dark is a reassuring sign that now the killer favorite weapon is away of his hands.

He pick up his second pistol, no time to look for the other one. He hold the flashlight in his mouth and try to find his foe, but he only sees a puddle of blood and foot prints…And something else, a dark, sharp knife.

DARK CELL part 2 of 5.

*2 of 5.

She laid back on her chair, her hands still smelling oil and nano-paint, and watched the little show. Not Dee Kay show on the battle field, that one was going well, no surprise. She was now with her sights on the show that was going on the meeting room. With despise, she acknowledged that Fredrick, the weapons development CEO, had them on the palm of his little rat pawns. When he started lecturing them on the dangers of using human soldiers and non Self-aware machines against the “Hostiles” , she muted the screen:

-How is that again? Oh yes, dear military leaders of world: “The enemy can infect all humans and at least 20% of other animal life forms, mutating them on news Hostiles, using microscopic pieces of unknown matter, we call dark soma. They put those microscopic contagious agents on bullets, grenades, bombs, armor, knifes, claws, water, food and barely anything they can touch”, so stop acting retarded and don’t send more sheep to the wolfs, you assholes.

A satellite up-link flashed a possessed tank, probably an old Le Clerc 8X, probably “salvaged” from Flanders.

-Le Clerc 8X, last “Le Clerc” to see battle, originally equipped with a 175mm canon, a 20mm rail gun, one medium laser canon and an old but reliable .50 machine gun. Armor…What was the armor again?

She hit some keys and the data flooded the screen.

-Oh I see, two centimeters of aluminum-titanium alloy, four centimeters of anti thermo-ballistic ceramic armor and up to six centimeters of disposable trans-reactive armor, plus explosive armor, in the 8XB model… Not too shabby! Oh I miss France…

She missed so many things… How could the entire world crumble like that in six years? She couldn’t stop the flood of hurtful memories from her past:

UNITED EUROPE FEDERATION, France administrative zone, September 08^th, 2281. She was one among thousand researchers working for UEF, developing new technologies to apply mostly in military and space mining areas. Her expertise as cybernetics and AI engineer granted her a generous governmental subside and freedom to explore some unorthodox ideas she had about intelligent machinery. She had good looks, and with 18 years, she was also much younger than most of her colleagues. Still, she had a not so nice nickname: “crazy cat lady”, once she was always with four cats with her, all times.

The cats were actually guinea pigs for her experiments, and also good company. The conventional AI technology limited itself to copy organic neural-networks like the ones you can find in a cat’s brain, but she decided to work it backwards: Four kittens had chips implanted in their brains at birth, and as they grow up, she used the chips to redesign their neural networks, turning them in true organic computers –smart, moody, arrogant and extremely cuddly computers – with a intelligence level similar to human, something close to 8.0 points on the Warren-Torres  AI intelligence chart.

Most people would flip out or just stare in awe watching the four cats connecting themselves to larger computers and power armors and acting as lab assistants and not like ordinary house pets, and more than a few would question the ethical implication of such experiments, and she would always give the same answer:

-It’s more ethical than changing the DNA of pets to make them non-allergic, or naturally pink, or three times bigger than normal, so people can kill and eat giant cows that are so heavy that can’t even move. Why don’t you go bother then instead of me?

But in the last weeks no one would bother her about ethics. Everyone was preoccupied with something far more dramatic, an asteroid, in collision course with Earth. Religious fanatics saw that as a sign of the end of times and started a springtime of terrorist acts. Politicians saw it as a opportunity to build up their reputations, and the military, as usual, only care about using it as excuse to get more funding. The serious scientist community tried to remind everyone that they foreseen that with a margin of more than thirty years, but who listen to those guys anyway? Two months before the impact, the “GOD’SPEAR” orbital laser canon manufactured by a joint effort between US and China were ready to fire.

-Michele! Drop the cats and come see it! They are about to fire the “God’spear”!

-Oh please Francine! Why would I bother to see them blowing a boulder in space? Let me be!

-Oh mon cher ami…Don’t be such a bitch and come see the fire works. All cool kids will be there, slacking off during work hours at government expense! Maybe you find a two legged cat to take home and handle that horrible humor of yours…

-Va te faire foutre Francine! Told you a million times that I already have a boyfriend, and I do not need sex in hourly doses to keep my good mood!

-Grossière. Now stop whinnying and come share some quality time with bipedal mammals.

Against her will, she accepted. The large room was crowded, people from all sectors watching the news channel. The atmosphere was quite joyfull, no worries about the success of the mission, was only a social meeting to watch the most expensive fireworks display of the decade, she thought.

To be honest, her and her boyfriend weren’t much more than pen-pals lately. Distance do that to relationships: you think you found the love of your life, but as soon you don’t have it with you 24/7 it fade away. She felt like she was forgot and probably replaced, but no way she would admit it. A masculine voice, strong but pleasant like velvet sound close to her ear.

-Look what the cat drag in…Michele! Francine keep telling me that only doomsday could make you leave the lab for a day… who could guess she was telling the truth?

Francine smiled, faking to be a little offended:

-Fredrick, darling, do you doubt my word or my vast knowledge of human behavior?!

-None! Not anymore!

And they laughed together, Frederick, liaison from the weapons industry inside the campus, she would not admit but he had a strong presence and sex appeal. She never met a man who could play with her so easily: He knew exactly what buttons to push to make her blush or anything else. And yet, he never took advantage of it...

Her less rational part of the brain saw it as a proof of affection, but her cold, logic part warned her that it could be just part of his famous corporative game.

Yes, Frederick, so young, yet so powerful, a talented executive, capable to read and manipulate anyone to do what he want them to. Her best judgment told her to not smile so much, to not be so happy for meeting him, but back then she was more naïve.

- Fran kidnapped me, im her hostage until someone explode that rock, then I will go back to my cats.

-And computers, but lets enjoy this brief time of captivity and chat, how are you doing?

And soon she lost track of time, and of Francine. The bitch delivered her to the big bad wolf and disappeared in thin air, but she didn’t minded. He had the right thing, the thing that make you wish to be kidnapped more frequently. But suddenly, the atmosphere in the room changed, for the worst.

-Jesus! What was that? It was reflected?!?

-The damn rock is starting to glow! Its supposed to happen?

The chaos took the room, but less than a minute later, when the broadcast got cut after a flash, a strange silence fell over us. Frederick was already on his way to the company, when everything electronic start malfunctioning. Phones failing and ringing out of control, digital watches flashing, channels scrambled.

-oh my god, my cats!

More than 76% of world eletronics are “EMP-Proof”, a military advancement that become quite ordinary and that shield electronic devices from get destroyed by eletro magnetic pulses, and everything pointed that a heavy EMP just hit the city. A pulse so strong probably ruined forever any non shielded system, and damaged bootlegged shields. She always used the best, but once her cats had brain implants, no way to predict what could have happen to them. She crashed in her lab and found the cats on the floor, still, but breathing.

Some people will say that Michele had no heart, for using cats in her experiments, but she fell on her knees and burst into tears when she saw her cats, her only true friends, on the ground, maybe on the edge of death.

Several kilometers away from there, Frederick got caught by the EMP on the private company tilt jet. It was nothing more than a nuisance, less than a turbulence. If the system haven’t warned him about it, he wouldn’t notice it at all. After all the jet was a state of art military transport jet.

He called a secret number on a secure line of his cell phone:

-It’s Frederick, 0-9-7 Charlie, code: Frey.

-IDENTITY CONFIRMED, CONNECTING TO ODIN ARMS INDUSTRY SECURE INNER-COMM… CONECTION COMPLETED.

-Frederick speaking, give me a report.

-Sir, the laser canon attack failed to pierce the outer hull of the unidentified object. It appear to have been deflected by some kind of energy shield, probably magnetic. As expected, the object counter attack, but the range and efficiency of the attack was far beyond expectation: the laser canon, and the other eight black-ops war frigates sent by US Space Army and the twelve frigates sent by the people liberation army of China were completely destroyed before they had the chance to deploy their fusion weapons. At the same time, it sent a EMP wave against the Earth. As predicted all ODIN systems were protected, and by extension, the United Europe Defense Systems too.

-Serves them right for not listening us and  playing like cowboys against aliens. Don’t waste time, attack their suppliers, it’s the chance we have been waiting to nail some big contracts within the US and China. Use the money on the secret accounts I indicated to cause chaos on the stock market.

-Yes. Anything else?

-Leak all the info on the attack, make US and China look like idiots, make the populace panic over aliens and things from outer space. Nothing better to business than scared people and stupid world leaders.

 He turn off the phone, laid back and smiled. A world war against aliens: someone smart could get very rich with that kind of opportunity. Someone like him…

77

Esse é um conto curto que serve mais como material para uma aventura de RPG que vou mestrar, aproveitem:

77 

RECONSTITUIÇÃO DA ULTIMA HORA DO VEICULO DE RECONHECIMENTO TERRESTRE DZ-77 DO EXERCITO AUSTRALIANO ANTES DO PRIMEIRO ATAQUE AÉREO AOS INVASORES- reconstrução baseada em gravações de comunicações por radio e da caixa preta blindada do tanque modelo Scorpion 300, adaptado para atuar como veiculo de observação e vigilância.

O homem dentro do tanque suava, mais de medo do que de calor:

-Delta zebra sete sete para zero zero, por favor responda zero zero.cambio.

A estática leva apenas poucos segundos para ser substituída pela voz grave do comandante:

-Zero Zero na escuta delta zebra sete sete, relatório? Cambio;

-Sr... é difícil de acreditar, mas eles são como as primeiras testemunhas descreveram. Daqui não podemos ver muitos detalhes, mas com certeza contamos quatro braços. Nem todos os braços tem garras ou mãos. São altos, a cabeça fica pouco abaixo da linha das arvores. Parecem pesados, andam como se estivessem na areia molhada de uma praia, mesmo sendo chão duro e seco... A única coisa que parecem carregar é uma espécie de bola de metal gigantesca, uma por soldado... daqui podemos ver doze deles, em formação cerrada, muito próximos uns dos outros...cambio.

O silencio agora dura mais. Sem duvida do outro lado uma discussão devia estar acontecendo.

-Sete sete, escute, esses invasores estão se movendo de forma a criar uma espécie de perímetro. Não podemos deixar que avancem, mas também não sabemos de tudo que eles podem fazer. Até agora eles não atacaram os mini drones aéreos, certo? Cambio.

-Zero zero, afirmativo, nenhum dos mini drones foi atacado. Talvez eles não possam distinguir objetos tão pequenos. Ainda temos seis deles para lançar. Cambio.

Novamente silencio; dentro do tanque um calor seco e desagradável. Do lado de fora sensores, centenas de quilos de sensores, vigiando o estranho espetáculo que se desenrolava a poucos quilômetros dali.

-Sete Sete, escute, em 15 iremos lançar um ataque aéreo usando caças multi função com munição pesada. Todos os brinquedos abaixo das nossas MOABS e ogivas nucleares. Quero que sincronize o lançamento dos mini drones com as salvas dos mísseis, para que possamos ter dados dos efeitos de cada ataque nos alvos. Entendeu? Cambio.

Ele já esperava isso, informação era prioridade... Mesmo que os próprios minidrones, robôs voadores do tamanho de um dedão, não fossem atacados, todo veiculo que os lançava para vigiar o inimigo acabava, cedo ou tarde, sendo alvejado pelos invasores. Mas era o trabalho deles.

-Entendido Zero zero, preparados para sincronizar ao seu comando, cambio.

Logo os computadores assumiram a conversa. Ele alternou para o comunicador interno e perguntou a seu colega:

-Ouviu tudo Charlie?

-...Claro. Que beleza.

-O que foi, esta ficando com medinho?

-Haha! Vá se foder, eu não entrei no exercito pra enfrentar monstros de seriados japoneses...  Alias só escolhi a unidade terrestre de reconhecimento por que até ontem era a única unidade que nunca tinha que pegar no pesado ou arriscar o pescoço...

-Hm...

-E você? Você não era da sétima blindada? Elite da elite ou coisa parecida?

-Era. Mas depois que minhas meninas nasceram eu decidi que seria algo bom continuar vivo pra as ver crescerem, irem pra escola, roubarem as chaves do meu carro e namorarem garotos que eu desaprovasse e todo o resto. Na sétima você não tinha uma expectativa de vida longa o bastante pra isso.

Um silencio pesado caiu:

-Você tem gêmeas, e uma esposa...

-E um cachorro, e uma maquete de porta-aviões para acabar...

-Tudo bem pra você? Você sabe que nós provavelmente não vamos nos safar se lançarmos mais de dois drones.

-É nosso trabalho, não é? Esses... Monstros ou seja lá o que forem só deixam mortos para trás, e não param de avançar. E nosso país é uma ilha. Uma ilha grande, mas mesmo assim uma ilha.

-Então vai fazer isso pela pátria?

-Foda-se a pátria, eu vou fazer tudo que eu puder é pra salvar minha família.

Um “bip” eletrônico anuncia que a hora chegou. A primeira salva de mísseis já esta no ar.

-Vamos rolar essa beleza e tirar umas fotos Charlie!

-Yahoo! Vamos nessa capitão, afinal, quem quer viver pra sempre?

AJUSTES, parte 3

ultima parte do conto "AJUSTES".

3#

    Um ano se passou desde que Fido veio morar comigo, é novamente outono e o sol lá fora não é suficiente para afastar o clima frio. Eu tenho aquecimento central a gás e um aquecedor elétrico portátil (meu favorito), mas pela primeira vez não precisei usar nenhum deles. O aquecedor de água a energia solar que eu e Janine montamos há algumas semanas com a ajuda de Fido começou a funcionar pela primeira vez. É muito simples montar um aquecedor de água solar, e econômico também, mas eu e Janine decidimos testar um aquecedor central, que esquenta a casa, usando a mesma água quente, só que desviada para  tubulações especiais espalhadas pela casa. Deu muito trabalho, e por mais de uma vez a casa ficou inundada, mas no fim hoje estou esquentando meus pés sem dor na consciência. Claro que no inverno o aquecedor vai funcionar com menos eficiência ou talvez não funcionar totalmente, mas pelo menos vai ajudar a baixar a conta de luz.

    Alias Janine se formou, pegou o diploma no começo do ano. Quando soube que ela já tinha conseguido um emprego, fiquei feliz e triste ao mesmo tempo.Feliz por saber que ela chegou onde queria, triste porque não a veria mais. Com o tempo, comecei a gostar de Janine de uma forma meio diferente, não exatamente adequada, já que eu era o empregador e ela a empregada. No ultimo dia de trabalho dela decidi me abrir e confessar meus sentimentos. A acompanhei até a pequena varanda, banhada pelos últimos raios de luz do dia.

    -Janine...-Senti minhas mãos tremerem, percebi que Janine fixou seus olhos nos meus e ficou lá, imóvel, esperando que eu continuasse. Mas estava difícil encontrar palavras.

    -Janine, espero que você seja muito feliz em seu novo trabalho, vou sentir saudades...Por favor apareça por aqui para nos ver-Disse colocando a mão na cabeça de Fido que estava ao meu lado.

    Janine não pareceu gostar do que eu disse, ficou em silencio, com uma expressão zangada e respondeu, ou melhor dizendo, questionou rispidamente:

    -É isso? Jota, depois de tudo, só isso?!

    Ela pegou as copias das chaves da minha casa que nos últimos anos foram dela e jogou no chão.

    -Seu ESTUPIDO!!

    E saiu raivosa pelo portão. Fiquei desesperado, pelo jeito havia estragado tudo, mesmo sem saber como. Agarrei as chaves no chão e decidi ir atrás dela. Algo ousado, para alguém como eu, mas naquele instante eu havia percebido que precisava dela em minha vida, que não podia perdê-la. Quando me levantei, ela já havia voltado. Com um rosto zangado, ela caminhou lentamente até mim. Segurei seus braços, decidido a dizer que a amava, quando ela se segurou no meu pescoço e, sem dizer nada, me beijou. E eu apenas correspondi. Ficamos ali, juntos, nos beijando por um bom tempo no escuro da noite.

    -Seu estúpido, eu tenho que fazer tudo por aqui?

    -Sorri, como se sorrisse pela primeira vez, a beijei na testa, peguei-a nos braços e a levei de volta para dentro de casa. Nossa casa. Com um chute fechei a porta, e pelo resto da noite nós finalmente confessamos o que sentíamos um pelo outro.

    E o pobre Fido ficou trancado para fora a noite toda, sozinho no sereno, mas eu juro, foi sem querer.

    Hoje quando me lembro disso, não consigo evitar de sorrir. Alias nem tento. Já fazem seis anos desde que eu e Janine nos casamos ( colocamos “J&J” nas alianças), e oito anos desde que nosso amigo Fido passou a fazer parte de nossas vidas.Hoje ele não me ajuda mais no trabalho, isso eu deixou para os novos robôs que eu e Janine temos, o bom e velho Fido, com sua excelente manutenção e muitas up-grades é apenas mais um membro da família. Obcecado com limpeza, continua a insistir em limpar a casa. Eu e Janine admiramos muito como ele e nossa filha, Naylyn, se tornaram amigos. Ela, com seis anos, segue Fido, alguns centímetros mais alto, aonde quer que ele vá, e quando ela sai para explorar a casa, é a vez dele segui-la de perto. Ele é um Pinóquio moderno, com um software de grilo falante, cuidando da segurança dela, e tentando ensiná-la a diferença entre certo e errado.

    Nós sabemos que um dia não terá mais como fazer a manutenção de Fido, seu modelo, agora obsoleto já saiu de linha há vários anos. Mas Janine já achou uma solução: Um robô de ultima geração, com um programa emulador. Um novo corpo, o mesmo Fido. Mas decidimos adiar isso por algum tempo, para que Lyn possa entender toda essa idéia de troca de corpo.

    Hoje quando sento em meu escritório com dois robôs de qualidade ao meu lado penso em como minha vida mudou. Hoje sou um dos donos da empresa (toda minha paranóia de perder o emprego sem duvida me ajudou nisso), sou casado com a mulher que amo e tenho uma filha linda. Posso estar errado, mas eu acho que tudo isso se deve ao fido. Sem ele, minha vida não teria mudado, eu não teria saído daquela triste zona de conforto, e tão pouco teria tido a chance de conhecer melhor Janine, que antes era apenas uma pessoa estranha que trabalhava comigo. Alias, hoje tenho pela primeira vez muitos amigos. Meus colegas, meus vizinhos, de um jeito ou de outro sinto que foi graças a Fido que eu decidi ir atrás de outras pessoas, e ser um pouco mais humano. 

    Levanto-me e olho pela janela, lá estão os dois, Fido e Naylyn, brincando de piratas, ela pura energia, e ele logo atrás, com uma caixa de lencinhos úmidos.

-Senhorita, antes de por a mão na boca você deve higienizá-la, higienizá-la senhorita!

FIM.

wee knight!

"AJUSTES" parte 2.

#2.

Chegando em casa, a criaturinha mecânica saiu sem ajuda do porta malas, e com certo esforço também tirou a caixa com minhas coisas .

Me seguindo de perto, ele parecia deslumbrado com tudo. Bem, é uma casa simples, mas eu contrato uma moça que cuida da limpeza, então esta tudo limpo e em ordem, eu acho.

Abri a porta, entrei e sem olhar para trás, já fui dizendo:

-Bom... acho que primeiro vamos instalar tudo no escritório lá nos fundos...

Mas apenas a caixa estava dentro de casa. O robozinho estava no meio de um estranho ritual de limpeza: Equilibrado em uma perna só, ele limpava o pé direito com um lenço úmido. Depois, muito lentamente, ele ficou equilibrado na outra perna e limpou o outro pé, antes de entrar. Ele devia ter algum tipo de transtorno obsessivo compulsivo robótico.o fim ele apenas olhou para mim e disse:

-Higienizados, Sr.

É, isso ai não vai acabar bem.

As primeiras semanas transcorreram tranquilamente, mais ou menos. Fido tentava limpar a casa, e eu tentava manter Fido fora de problemas.

E é claro, trabalhar. De um lado, trabalhar em casa era excelente, pois podia trabalhar o quanto quisesse, a qualquer hora, desde que entregasse os relatórios dentro do prazo e, sem querer me gabar, eu que sempre entreguei meu trabalho dentro do prazo, passei a entregá-los em metade do tempo.

Porém havia um problema: o trabalho era meu único ambiente de convívio social. Agora eu passava os dias sozinho em casa sem ver ninguém.

Bem, não totalmente sozinho, já que tinha fido e Janine.

Fido, apesar de sua neurose com limpeza, era realmente útil. Organizava tudo de forma eficiente, de cuecas a arquivos do meu trabalho. Ele também limpava a casa constantemente. Até arrumar a cama, a única tarefa domestica que eu fazia (fazia mal, pois Janine sempre refazia a cama quando vinha trabalhar) ele passou a fazer. Janine, a moça  que faz a limpeza, é jovem, de boa aparência e trabalha muito. Além da minha casa, ela trabalha como baba e em uma pizzaria como entregadora, para pagar a faculdade onde cursa engenharia.

Janine teve uma reação ambígua ao ver fido. Ela gostava muito de máquinas e robôs, mas acho que se sentiu ameaçada pelo fido... Acabei dividindo as tarefas entre eles, deixando o fido um pouco de fora da área de Janine.

Fido também precisava de cuidados: A cada 72 horas ele recarregava suas baterias, uma vez por semana ele baixava suas atualizações, e uma vez por mês rodava um auto-diagnóstico preventivo (tudo sozinho).  Durante uma dessas ocasiões onde ele fazia seu download semanal, Janine veio a mim e me perguntou quais AppRs  eu estava usando.

-Apers? O que é isso?

Janine me olhou como se eu tivesse perguntado algo estúpido, como qual era a cor do céu.

-A-P-P-R-S! App- Rs! Aplicativos Robóticos! Eles servem pra deixar o robô mais útil!

É, Janine não se comportava de forma servil, muito pelo contrario, parecia que ela era a chefe e eu e fido os empregados, mas eu não ligava.

-Ah... Não sei, nunca vi isso, mesmo porque ele já faz tudo o que eu  preciso (até mais, pensei, mas nunca admitiria isso).

Janine ficou com uma cara desapontada, e continuou.

-Mas os Apprs também servem para diversão, e outras coisas! Tipo...tipo telefone!

Ela apontou para meu celular, velhinho...

- Você tem que pelo menos experimentar alguns!

E assim Janine passou a ser a co-proprietária de Fido. Todos os dias ela baixava versões gratuitas e de teste, do tipo “use por trinta dias” de uma variedade assustadora de programas.

Eram programas de culinária, de ginástica (sim, Janine passou um mês fazendo ginástica comigo, e não, eu não consegui  “tirar vantagem” da situação), e também alguns bem interessantes, como um programa com a função “impressora”. O meu robozinho foi dormir uma torradeira e acordou um Van Gogh, um Da Vinci, da pintura e do desenho. No começo ele desenhava cenários e imagens a lápis e caneta, mas depois eu tive a oportunidade de vê-lo pintar com giz e lápis de cor, foi impressionante. Janine trabalhava em um de seus projetos de engenharia, uma estação de ônibus com teto de vidro em forma de concha e fido, supervisionado por Janine, transformava a figura em preto e branco em uma ilustração de enorme qualidade.

    -Uau... Eu ainda não tinha visto um programa desses.

    -É bom, não concorda? Antes eu entregava meus projetos em preto-e-branco, pois eu não tinha nenhum talento para pintar. Agora o fido pode fazer isso para mim...

    -Isso não é trapaça?-Perguntei meio assustado.

    -Claro que não, o desenho é meu, ele só esta colorindo.

    E os dois continuaram pintando. Eu estava um pouco preocupado e maravilhado ao mesmo tempo. Robos podiam pintar lindos quadros, ou seja, não precisava-se mais de pintores. Haviam muitos setores de trabalho onde a participação humana havia quase desaparecido devido a disponibilidade de robôs de inteligência artificial verdadeira, normalmente trabalhos como minerar antigos depósitos de lixo atrás de metano e materiais recicláveis, mas a idéia de que robôs podiam substituir artistas me fez temer que nós, humanos, estivéssemos transferindo responsabilidades demais para as máquinas. Aonde essa espécie de preguiça mental levaria a sociedade, se as pessoas delegavam até a arte as maquinas?

    Claro que eu também me preocupei com meu emprego, afinal meu trabalho era mais simples do que pintar um quadro... E decidi fazer “serão” a semana inteira, pra mostrar que eu podia competir com um possível substituto robô.