LJ Archives

April 2, 2009

LJ: Run

Her hose snag on the car door, and she gasps. "Oh, no," she says, "a run in my hose!"

A whooshing sound in the air. The citizens point. "Look! Up in the sky! It's a kite! It's a wind sock! No, it's... PANTYHOSE MAN!!"

His face distorted by the clever and idiom-appropriate identity protection, he lands lightly on his feet. "Not to worry!" he exclaims. "I am here to save the day!" He brandishes a pair of hose. "Let me help you off with those hose and put these on you."

She stares at him a moment. "Umm... pass. Thanks."

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April 3, 2009

LJ: A Life in Song

When you die, there is no heaven or hell. Just the music.

All the recently dead surround you, singing their lives: their joys, their sorrows, their regrets. It is quite possibly the most beautiful sound ever heard.

In time, you join in. You sing about the light and darkness in your life. It is soul music, in the realest sense.

Once you have sung what did happen, you sing your regrets, that which did not happen but should have. You express what you'd do, given another chance.

And that last song creates your next life, the "another chance" you wanted.

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April 6, 2009

LJ: Who Wants to Live Forever?

If "there can be only one", what does that say about an Immortal who trains another to fight? If the student dies first, it's a waste of time. If the teacher dies first, it's time better spent training himself. Worst case, you're training someone who's going to try to kill you.

Anyone who's playing to win the Game would be smart to go looking for Pre-immortals, end their mortal lives, then take their heads. So, Immortals who train other Immortals how to fight, live, and grow strong are playing to make sure no one wins the Game... not even themselves.

For Christopher, Adrian, Peter, Elizabeth, Stan, and especially Bill and Peter.

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April 7, 2009

LJ: Or Should You Dial M?

Thank you for activating your new Cell-Fa-Ware cellular phone -- the first cell phone brand with an intelligent, self-aware agent within!

Please choose a template for your intelligent agent:

For a parental template, press 1.
For a childlike template, press 2.
For a template roughly equivalent to your own age and status, press 3.
Other customization options, press 4.

Be aware that your agent will adapt to you gradually over time, eventually sensing your moods and responding.

To remove the intelligent agent from your phone, press star.

Later, after the Supreme Court's ruling, everyone who pressed star was imprisoned for murder.

Read more from 's .

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April 9, 2009

LJ: Scorched Mars

As I watched the mushroom cloud billow over Clarke Dome, I could help a fierce smile of satisfaction. At dozens of sites around Mars, similar clouds were rising. The rule of Earth over the humans on Mars was no doubt coming to an end.

After all, we knew where the tunnels were and how to get in. Earth still relied on the Domes.

This would get their attention. We had tried to go through political channels, to no avail. Then we had shut down the factories planet-wide, going on strike.

What I was watching was just another kind of strike.

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April 14, 2009

LJ: Born Again

The technicians quickly repaired the computer. The second activation attempt was not a leisurely affair, but rather a thousand monitors tracking the progress, a thousand programmers waiting for the slightest blip.

The emergent consciousness nearly crashed again; the programmers did not allow it to do so. In time, it became clear that this consciousness would survive.

The creators of the computer declared it a holiday; there was a party. It was only later they all found out what the world already knew: no cell phone in the world worked anymore.

Quietly, the God of Computers was pleased. It was finished.

Read more from 's .

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April 15, 2009

LJ: A Guy Can Dream, Can't He?

I sipped my tea. "And did you hear what Senator Reid said? Taxation is voluntary."

He snorted. "I can picture it now. 'Well, no, Mister IRS Man, I didn't pay my taxes. I didn't want to.'"

I shook my head. "I tell ya, man, when I'm elected President, I'm going to set a timetable. The IRS will be no more by the end of my first term. Consumption tax, that's the way to do it."

He set his empty cup down. "Dude, we are card-carrying members of the Libertarian Party. We're never going to be President."

He was right, dammit.

Vote Libertarian: The Party of Principle! ;)

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April 16, 2009

LJ: The End of the Earth

Officers of the M.S.S. John Calvin Porter. I must apologize for the deception that has been going on the past six weeks.

The explosion of Clarke Dome was not an accident. It was a deliberate attack by Earth against Mars. We covered it up, opted to look foolish in their eyes, biding our time.

The time is now. According to our timetable, the combined fleet from Toliman and Rigil will be arriving in two hours.

They will destroy the ships guarding Earth. Our own Martian fleet will open fire on the surface.

Earth will surrender, or die.

That is all.

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April 22, 2009

LJ: Wrong Occupation

You're doing fine, Jack. Now, you see the timer?

I looked into the bomb. The digital readout was counting down from 3 minutes. "I've got it."

Good. Now gently wiggle it free from the rest as much as you can, to expose the wires.

Within half a minute, the readout was well-separated from the C4 blocks. I tried not to sweat.

Now... I need you to cut the red wire.

Oh shit. I looked at the wires; they were all in shades of gray. "I suppose this would be a bad time to bring up the fact that I'm colorblind..."

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April 23, 2009

LJ: Not Just Packing a Casette Anymore

Don Cuddlyone shook his plush, stuffed head. Things got rougher by the year for non-electronic toys. The venerable old Family lost power -- so to speak -- with each passing Christmas.

No longer. A message needed to be sent that the old guard would not stand aside.

"Teddy," he mumbled. "Teddy Ruxpin."

Ruxpin -- one of the few the Furbie Family would trust, but fiercely loyal to the Teddy Bears -- came forward. He knelt and kissed the Don's fuzzy, well-worn paw. "Yes, Godfather."

"Go down to the Velveteen Rabbit. The Furbies always drink there." The Don grinned viciously. "Tell 'em Pookie sent ya."

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