Anomalous Objects Catalogue chapter 1More Like This
"I hear Pripyat is pleasant this time of year."
Sniper stood watch, just outside the old travel agency building. Aside from somehow withstanding the rest of the block collapsing around it, the shop was impressive for having reasonably preserved brochures. Captain and Pilot would often amuse themselves by planning trips to countries that no longer existed, and Engineer would gather what they discarded for kindling. Whenever Sniper grew sufficiently bored, he'd call out with something he thought was witty.
It was a bit like that, being on watch; you'd either say something funny and die knowing your sense of humour was too good for this world, or you'd say nothing and die without validating your ego.
"Actually," Engineer spoke up from the Visit Asia section, a finger tracing over dusty advertisements as he moved along the aisle, "One of the last GOOD directorate broadcasts sent out was a list of anomalies brought on by the apocalypse, and apparently Chernobyl became the least radiated pla
Snippy - Poem of DoomMore Like This
Oh Captain, my Captain! I say it to mock,
You're lucky as hell but to me you're a c***.
Please spare me the missions, I've no head for heights,
Balloons and big lists lead me only to blights.
Evading the probes of an alien race,
Then having to witness your > : ( angry face...
But what choice have I? I'm involved in these fights,
With Cancerous space-monsters full of red sprites,
And Lemonade weirdos and God knows what next,
Just how can you stay so serene and unvexed?
What price should I pay for your simple delights,
Be eaten by whales after soiling my whites?
I know you won't listen, but you'll come unstuck,
And one of these days you'll run right out of luck,
Your empire will fall, and your ego besides,
It's karma for sure, like the turn of the tides,
And then I will lol, sitting in my own muck,
Coz after all this I just won't give a f***.
Snippy: the end of the worldThe living scarf twisted around my neck, flowing back and forth.More Like This
My neurons tingled, misfiring.
Was it numbing the pain of being compressed into a hexagonal cocoon that pressed tighter and tighter?
No, it was showing me what it could see and feel, what my limited human vision could not.
The aggregate virus bore into my body, feasting on my cells, borrowing me to expand itself, yet it did not take over completely.
I was here, no I was out there, I was a hundred trillion cells and they were ALL suddenly under my control.
It seems that our relationship status has been upgraded from "master controller/slave drive" to an "unlicensed symbiosis".
The Biomatrix served as my new eyes, letting me peer through my own skin, bones, flesh and organs, through my fireproof jacket, through the web of intertwining lights that bound us in a stasis field, through the thick, crystalline walls of the Arbitrator's spacecraft.
My vision intensified, expandi
SNIPPY: evidence"Blasted mug!"More Like This
I looked at it hatefully.
"This is all your fault!"
I attempted to throw the mug at the Arbitrator, to smash it, to let go of it.
Nothing of the sort was possible.
I flailed left and right. The mug did not budge. I could not let it go, no matter how hard I tried. It was as if it were glued to me with a strange static-like substance. It rolled between my fingers and from one hand to the other, but it was as if I were made of iron and the mug were a powerful rare-earth magnetic bearing coated with oil.
Why can't I let go of the mug?!
Did the Arbitrator's reconstruction of my organs have anything to do with this?
Upon giving up to prying the mug out of my hands, I turned to the Arbitrator and spoke.
I made my case calmly and clearly, pressuring various facts that my DNA couldn't possibly be on the mug and that I looked nothing like Captain and that it might as well scan my memories for evidence or something of that sort.