CobraToon

Always making up

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No More Time by CobraToon, literature

Literature

No More Time

“So what is the pod supposed to do?” The old man in the corduroy vest taps a finger against his chin. “Let's see – Sorry, the technical explanation goes over most people's heads. Have you heard of cryonics?” The large box in the center of his cozy lab is covered in strips of interwoven black metal, creating a hard and bumpy shell with a scaly crisscross pattern. A single porthole on the front looks in, though the material is smoky gray and opaque from a distance. Perhaps a small submarine, or a freezer built large enough to hold a person standing within. “Is that like cryogenics? Freezing people?” “Indeed!” He walks closer to the box, gesturing for you to follow. “Inside the pod, we can fix space so that, for all intents and purposes, time is prevented from passing. We call it a stasis field.” Pulling at the side, he opens the front door on whining hinges to reveal the interior. “You might say it is exactly like being frozen, but much easier to un-thaw because there are no

Mister Dancer - ch 23 end by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 23 end

'Will you delete this profile?' I stare at the popup from the job board, wondering if there's some way I could avoid this. Getting to try a bunch of new jobs was fun. There's many I haven't even seen yet. But there would always be a chance I could screw up somewhere doing something I wasn't trained for, potentially endangering lives and harming some company. Without Ned's team to wipe the records, any repercussions would come back to me. So I click 'Yes' and confirm the selection. The screen goes dark for a moment, then 'Mr. Dancer' is gone and my old 'Wil7429' profile is back with the same old four jobs. I exit back into my home world before I can stare too long at them and regret the necessary choice. My news feed starts scrolling down in the central view. Headlines with the words 'Neural Jack Disconnections' and 'Safe Tethering Practices' are everywhere but easy to ignore. I search for articles I haven't seen before and save them for later: 'Where Droids and Partners Fail' and

Mister Dancer - ch 22 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 22

Our auto-car rolls along the coastline, finally free of traffic on roads far from the city or any suburbs. Flashes of the midnight ocean, reflecting the dark-speckled moon above, gleam through scraggly trees. The road twists and descends and finally turns toward the coast. When the trees fall away, only sand dunes and bent beach grass cover the terrain ahead. A pyramid of white stone stands out in the ocean, built on an island hill and surrounded by walls. There are lights on within, but they are distant and small. Most of the illumination comes from the moon, or from street lamps evenly spaced along a bridge leading to the structure. A chain-link fence sits on this side of the water, yet in front of us, the road passes through an open gate on wheels. I point to the open gate and whisper to Marc, “Should that be - ?” They nod. “I think so.” From the cell, Ned calls out, “You’ll come across the actual security checkpoints closer in.” Something like a speed bump jolts the auto-car

Mister Dancer - ch 21 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 21

Walking toward the restaurant’s elevator - with Xharm and I carrying the majority of the leftovers - I hear several doors to other private rooms open and shut along the upper balcony as people rush around and leave. In the large public area below, the same fine dining atmosphere of before still prevails. The reduced menu doesn’t seem to have impacted their business much. We go down to the ground floor and out into the bustling nighttime crowds. A sky filled with thin clouds hangs low overhead, while bright neon glares off every surface except the wooden-paneled buildings. People stare at Xharm and give her more room, allowing us to follow in her determined wake back towards the midtown transit building we arrived at. Yet even beyond her presence, the city streets feel different somehow. Not busier, but almost louder as if I can hear more talking - and at the same time quieter like something thicker than noise is in the air. Marc, carrying one small parcel, glances down at their

Mister Dancer - ch 20 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 20

The thick, spongy carpets of the restaurant’s halls silence my footsteps. I wander along the upper balcony, one hand trailing the sturdy railing, glancing down at the dining area below where people in the finest of finery eat and whisper and laugh. If any of them are androids, here to chat with friends and have fancy food chemicals delivered to them at home, are they in danger of disconnections too? Everyone down there looks happy and healthy and unconcerned with anything bad happening in the world. Searching the crowd, I don’t see any notable celebrities or media icons. But considering the makeup, editing and filters, I might not recognize one if I saw them. Or they’re all up in the private rooms, and everyone below is here for the reputation. “Pardon a small question,” someone says from behind me. Turning around, I find the waiter droid with the tray of plastic flower blossoms staring at me. Their voice belongs to a different user from whoever spoke with us earlier. They lean

Mister Dancer - ch 19 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 19

After gliding through quiet residential streets, our auto-car turns onto a broad avenue with other vehicles running bumper to bumper in lines. The two-lane roads become four-lane city bypasses, after which we spill out onto an eight-lane highway with a mix of auto-trucks, -vans and a few auto-cars like ours. Marc seems busy tapping away on their cell and even makes a few calls on the trip. Their tone changes for each, going from stern and commanding with one, to polite and unctuous on the next. I stare out the windows and try not to listen too closely. The traffic gets a little faster driving on a toll bridge high above huge basins and gullies that were presumably once ponds and rivers. Blue lights flash overhead. The car behind us has tinted windows, while on our right are a line of auto-trucks with high-end brands on the side. I turn on the maps app of my cell and watch as we drive south toward a neighboring city. We finally exit the highway, passing a transit center exactly like

Mister Dancer - ch 18 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 18

Working shift after shift, job after job, I've reached my next quota of ten on the day before the medical technician is supposed to come. My notes are a little more lengthy this time, which feels nice, but also means I spend longer checking the spelling and transcribing them. I glance at Vin’s UR channel after lunch. His latest video is the review of apple and walnut pizza. I don’t watch it. Instead I send him a text message. ‘Please please post that disconnection study video tonight’ Then, with nothing else to do and no desire to wallow in worry at home, I bundle up my notes and request an auto-van pickup to go into the city. ~-~ Riding down the highway, I’m surrounded in the auto-van by couples with their arms around each other, heads together and whispering. They fill most of the seats. When my cell beeps, I need to twist around to get a hand into my pocket, then hunch down for some privacy. ‘Scheduled near midnight tonight in fact, our peak traffic hours . Yur gonna love

Mister Dancer - ch 17 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 17

I get a text from Dad one morning: ‘The med tech will be bye in three days. Keep the house picked up’ Of course he doesn’t say a time, or that I need to be there, or offer any words of advice or support. Vin's video needs to come out in time. It has to. Will the world be convinced? If I asked a judge to grant some kind of legal protection order to keep her alive, would they? Or maybe I could get people to help me steal her out of the house while Dad was asleep … My thoughts swirl in tightening circles, fears of doing too little too late mixed with hope that everything will soon be okay, all charged with frustration over Dad’s obstinance and Ned’s refusal. I quietly panic in my bedroom chair until I can’t stand the stress any more. Times like this make me want to run, followed by some mindless work. ~-~ After hours of Landscape Maintenance in a sun-boiled paradise, I need a break. Pruning topiary statues might be fun as a side gig or a hobby, but not with supervisors watching

Mister Dancer - ch 16 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 16

I glare up into the security eye above the front door. “I was here with Vin before. Isn’t that enough?” “Sorry, sir, but I can’t.” The voice, thin and rushing, probably belongs to a nervous teenager on their first job. “I can’t tell you if anyone is in the room. And guests must always arrive with pre-approved permission or be escorted by a tenant. ” “But what if,” I look around and then pat my pocket. “I have something Vin requested. It’s important. He needs to get this. What if you contact the room and ask him to come to the door?” The voice whines, “Sir, I seria can’t do any of that! And from now on I will be recording this interaction. Right - now. Sir, I must ask you to leave the premises if you do not have an office in the building. Guests must always arrive with pre-approved permission or be escorted -” I speak over them, “How much does it cost to rent an office space?” “S-Sir?” The voice stutters and babbles, “Please let me finish before you ask -” “How much?” I pull out

Mister Dancer - ch 15 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 15

The doorbell rings. I turn to Dad sitting on the couch. He grins back at me and starts struggling to his feet, hands on his knees and bent over. I tap my hand to his shoulder. “I’ll get.” Standing up from the couch and walking out of the living room, I hear the 2D movie we were watching pause behind me. Out the front door and down the series of steps to the yard, I spot the droid delivery van parked in the road. I walk up to the side, which opens to a counter stretching the length of the van. Napkin dispensers and sauce packets fold down into view, along with display bottles of soda, tea and beer. In the center is a screen which turns on to show an old man with spotted skin, heavy jowls and wearing a red uniform. “Yer order will be done in less than a minute, lad.” His sunken eyes glance down and he nods. “Less than thirty seconds. Can I offer ya any additional items? Twenty flavors of soda, ten kinds of pint ice cream, these little cookie dough balls you can bake while you

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My Complete Stories - First Chapters

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No More Time by CobraToon, literature

Literature

No More Time

Mister Dancer - ch 23 end by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 23 end

Mister Dancer - ch 22 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 22

Mister Dancer - ch 21 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 21

Mister Dancer - ch 20 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 20

Mister Dancer - ch 19 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 19

Mister Dancer - ch 18 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 18

Mister Dancer - ch 17 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 17

Mister Dancer - ch 16 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 16

Mister Dancer - ch 15 by CobraToon, literature

Literature

Mister Dancer - ch 15

About CobraToon

Artist // Hobbyist // Literature

United States
Deviant for 14 years
He / Him

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My Bio

“Take chances, make mistakes, get messy!”

I love Anime and writing. Someday I'd like to write the scripts for original animation but for now I'm a writer-in-training creating worlds and characters and telling stories with them for my amusement. I'm always searching for people to collaborate with, especially visual artists; if you read something here that inspires you, I'd like to see what you make of it, or we can work together on something new. And I'm here to learn and help others learn. I want advice on how I can improve, I take on prompts and requests to sharpen my writing skills, and if you'd like a critique or some proofreading you only have to ask.

My avatar is a Native Bird created by dsad2 as the prize from an event. I have this feeling like I'm perched in a small place, ready to take flight but unsure if anywhere outside my sight would be better. The world makes me want to stay native where I know my surroundings. Can I do so while working towards my dreams for the future, or do all birds need to fly south? I don't believe I'll reach my goals without that big leap. You'll notice my uploads to DA have been sporadic in recent years - yet I feel like more of a writer than ever after quitting jobs that weren't right for me and getting back into the habit of writing things I care about every day. I've now got paid copywriting work on my resume and I'm also writing things I love in my spare time! Wish me luck in this career, and here's hoping for a better new year.

Terror Tales 2024

This is my first status update in a while, I don't know all the tools available to me, but here goes! For this year's Terror Tales event, I wrote a short spooky story to serve as inspiration for others. Responses were amazing! Variations on the stasis pods, the scientist and the experimental subject: Many of you included great art in comments or shared spooky fridge thoughts: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164224409 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164391703 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164226598 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164322633 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164330407 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164355404 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164455069 https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/1104598555/5164943083 Finally, a few of the responses

Oct 7, 2024