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January 5, 2006

January 5, 2005

You wipe the mud from your eyes to discover that you are knee-deep in a mass grave...

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Comments

You shut up, - I quit!! I’ve been workin my ass off for you for too long. Putting up with all your shit – day in and day out. Never any appreciation for it. Covering for all your screw ups.

Take a look around, Graves. Wipe that crap off your eyes and catch a glimpse. You yellin all the time sucks – you big bag of hot air!

I’m sick of it! I’m sick of this place! And I’m sick of you, Graves!

You can take this job and shove it! Cause I’m tired of you gettin knee-deep in m’ass, Graves!!!

Posted by: kasac at January 5, 2006 10:59 AM · Permalink

The GenCorpBoston building's basement has always been called the grave. Meat-locker cold, and air so processed it tastes like a papercut, it's where we house the spares.

Ever since the regulations in '36, keeping whole bodies, even of acephalic clones, made a company subject to all the mortuary laws. So we started taking them apart, and storing them by parts. Heads and faces near the top, torsos not far beneath, then the limbs. Specialty parts like joints go down on the bottom floors.

Where you've arrived now. Please deactivate the Mind-Up-Display, return to retinal sight, and retrieve a suitible unit.

Posted by: Jeff R. at January 5, 2006 4:00 PM · Permalink

By 2315, the Kennedy family mausoleum had grown to the size of a small city, and I was running through the middle of it, pursued by Prince Zophar Kennedy IV and his guards.

"Don't let him escape!" Zophar shouted, his voice echoing down the narrow tunnels. "He has stolen the Patagonian papers which enshrine our right to rule America - stop him! Release the man-dogs!" The man-faced hounds began baying.

I ducked into a burial chamber marked "Edward" and recalibrated the chronostat. Time travel is fun, but I prefer the present - the political landscape of 2842 is so much more docile.

Posted by: G-Do at January 5, 2006 4:33 PM · Permalink