FML

My life is like an insane carousel

and I don’t know how to stop it

If i can’t slow it down

I think I’m going to vomit

Everything around blurs

Round and around it goes

faces repeating in the haze

in my jolting highs and lows

as my body swings from here to there

I hang on with an iron grip

faster and faster the colors whirl

The moments cracking like a whip.

And I wonder how this can be real

how can it be reality?

when did I get on the ride?

and where will I be at the ride’s finality?

Who are the spectators whose eyes meet mine?

Who is the operator that spun me through time?

Through meetings and thoughts and all things gone wrong

they spin through my mind and yet still I did not fall.

 

 

[image by sewer-pancake]

11 Reasons Why Game of Thrones with Animaniacs Characters would be a good idea.

Reason number one: The zany wacky loony world of Animaniacs is a perfect juxtaposition against the brutal and harsh world of Game of Thrones. Both are fantastic in different ways and although ice cream and pizza might be an odd combination of two excellent things I’d say this is more a Nutella-PB&J…with a side of orange spice snaps and salmon crabs stuffed with nuggets of caramel and Pentos apple taffy kind of idea. It’s good trust me on this.Such stark opposites could only get along.

422361-game-of-thrones-cast-banner-credit-hboTotallyinsaney

Reason number two: Animaniacs ended  on the air in 1998 meaning that anyone who was alive when this show was running is now over 18 years old (if you didn’t feel old already), yeah only adults can remember watching Animaniacs on the WB, if there was ever a reason to make more adult humor* about the universe, this is it. Game of thrones is ripe for a parody with giant sledge hammers, bulging surprise eyes, and zig-zaggy tongues just as much as Animaniacs could be ready for horrid violence and medieval political intrigue if it was done right. Imagine the reactions can happen when the white walkers show up. Without a doubt mixing the two things would have to be done carefully so as not to make Animaniacs needlessly violent and still retain the cold steel of realism that GoT has.  .

Reason number Three:

goodideabadidea

Narrator: “It’s time once again for another good idea, bad idea”

Narrator: “Good idea…”

[We see the mannequin resembling Ned Stark/Sean Bean in the tower of the hand’s solarium pawning over the book of lineages]

Narrator: “…Discovering the dark secret behind Jon Arryn’s murder…”

[Fade to black and then show Bad Idea title]

Narrator: “…Bad Idea…”

[Open to Stark/Bean mannequin confronting Slappy Squirrel as Cerci Lannister. Cerci folds her arms.]

Narrator: “Telling the one who murdered John Arryn that you figured out their dark secret.”

[Fade to black with drum roll]

[Open to  the Great Sept of Baelor in King’s Landing, we see the stage from the  far crowd where Slappy/Cerci stands with the high members of the court, Skippy/ Joffery orders Illan Payne forth, Stark/Bean Mannequin kneels before being beheaded**.]

[Show end title]

Narrator: “The End”

The-End-Good-Idea-Bad-Idea.png

Reason number Four: I already have the lyrics for the opening theme, if you need to refresh your memory this is the original.  The one thing you have to force is the “game of” into one syllable for all but the first chorus, but I’m not claiming that I’m a perfect lyricist. This also assumes that you go with the Animaniacs opening theme as opposed to the Game of Thrones one.

“It’s Game of Animaniacs,
and it’s zany to the max,
so get your sword and your axe,
which house will die off last?
Game of Animaniacs.

 

Come join the stark children,
and their stark sibling Dot,
Just for fun they run around Westeros a lot.
They throw them out the moon door,
Whenever they get caught,
but your favorite ones will lose their heads and now you know the plot.

 

Game of Animaniacs,
Sansa’s cute and Robb’s got class,
Jon’s a bastard of his dad, Bran won’t ever walk again,
Game of Animaniacs.

 

Meet Tyrion and Bronn who want to learn and make a purse,
Ned and Robert stick together, Cerci sends them to the Herse***,
Jorah chases Danni,
While Arrie sings a verse,
The writing’s fucked I’ve given up on who’s bad and who is worse,

 

Game of Animaniacs,
Brutality and flay-ing flesh,
Atrocities begin to mesh,
It’s fake folklore at its best,
It’s Animany,
Totally Insaney,
(More than a little Derangey,)

Game of anamaney-acs

You can-not go back.

donk.

 Reason Number Five:…I don’t have too much time on my hands and am a rational human being like you.

 Reason Number six: Imagine The Brain as Tyrion Lannister. Yeah. The Brain as Orson Wells as Tyrion Lannister walking around Westeros with an armored and deadly mercenary Pinkey. Tell me that’d not be fantastic and you’re spittle will dry in your mouth because I’ve poisoned your wine with “The strangler” for your heresy.

Joffrey_envenenado_HBO

This is you. This is what you get.

Reason Number Seven: Mindy as Dennarys Targaryan and Buttons as Jorah Mormont

.04464307595-buttons

Of all the Animaniacs shorts the Mindy/Buttons ones were my least favorite, it was a pretty drawn out ten minutes of the blissfully unaware innocent who narrowly avoids certain demise while an equally innocent takes all the hits cleshe of slapstick comedy (I ended up just feeling bad for Buttons). However, make Jorah Mormont a cartoon dog dedicated to pledging his life to an Idealistic Mindy who has the power of three Dragons and an army of freed slaves? I don’t care what happens that is pure gold.
Also this can happen at Astopor:

Dovaogēdys! Āeksia ossēnātās, menti ossēnātās, qilōni pilos lue vale tolvie ossēnātās, yn riñe dōre ōdrikātās. Urnet luo buzdaro tolvio belma pryjātās! Okay I love you Buhbye!”

[slave master is emulated by dragon fire]

Reason Number Eight: Rita as the murderous Arya Stark and Runt as the even more murderous Sandor Clegane. It’s a musical romp from the Riverlands to the twins and then back south to the Eyrie surrounded by the deaths of many villagers, bandits, and coincidental relatives. You will see such hits as
I put needle in your throat and now you can gurgle while I gloat.
and
Merrin Fucking Trent!” <<this conversation as a song, between these characters:

rita_and_runt__next_to_me_by_statx015-d64pd5n
the-hound-arya.jpg

Reason number nine: Dot would be a good Arya too…maybe once she gets out of westeros and handles that…face temple.

Ten: Wakko as Bran, maybe his warg powers turns the animals into a kind of Elvis impersonation. Who wouldn’t want to see Hodor sing blue suede shoes? I’m sure he knows all the lyrics.

Eleven: umm… Yakko using his cartoon invincibility and willy tricks to turn the red wedding into a kind of Scooby doo chase scene….

Anyway I’m losing steam with this*****, what with the wine, and the tiredness. It’s like 3 AM.

Comment if you have any ideas, if you are an animator steal mine ….I just want it to exist.

Footnotes:
* I realize that Animaniacs has a lot of adult humor already, but maybe just pushing the line a bit farther could be warranted. Or we could just leave it unspoiled.

**oh yeah SPOILERS!! That was season one/ book one stuff that was probably already ruined for you between now and 5 or 20 years ago. Also my theory is Jon is a Warg and is now living as his dyrewolf Ghost which is a cool prospect.

***Ohhh more stuff that had more than two decades of common knowledge****

****I’m pretty sure the majority of people don’t care about GoT/SOIAF spoilers anymore…I just wanted to be edgy… L

*****There are too many characters in GoT for it to match up perfectly but It would be good as just short snippits.

Okay I love you Buhbye!

The Princess

Once upon a time there was a princess. She was the most bitchen’ princess of all the seven realms. People all the times be commin’ up to her for her super rad advice.

Like this one Duke was all: “Yo, how do I reduce energy consumption in my Duchy.”

And she’d be all: “You gotta invest in energy efficient bulbs and solar power and diversify your energy sources. Start to compost n’ shit.”

And the duke be all: “fuckn’ ay thanks!”

She was so cool, she rode around on 15 multicolored unicorns on the reg and she lived in a dope bitchin’ castle; she wasn’t all elitist about it either, like other monarchs, she shared the castle with all the wanderers and destitutes and they all had sweet wicked rad feasts all the time with like local stuffed pheasant and Rice and Kale and oregano, and bacon wafers stuffed in peppers and everyone was full and happy and carefree as goddamned jay birds. They played croquet and rode bikes too.

One day there was an evil wizard who showed up to defile the land from the awesomeness. And so the princess summoned the wizard to her castle and they argued and they fought for many moons until the conflict brought about a reconciliation through words and they decided to be awesome together and so the bitchen’ princess and the magic wizard proceeded to  kick so much ass and the world became way cool.

The End

Nono’s Store

We were all living at Aunt Nono’s store at the time: My Father Kevin and Mother Nancy as well as my Younger brother Ryan. Aunt Nono was in California when it all started so we had no idea where she might have been. The electricity was out for a few months and so we were still getting used to making fires and lighting the old oil lamps Nono kept around the antique store. It had a cozy back room with a fireplace, all wood paneled walls. The front room was about as boring as any store front, and it’s big front windows saw through to the strip mall enclave outside.

I was never a big user of technology and my parents grew up in the 80’s so I don’t think the internet crashes really hit us as bad. Their big thing was the lack of comforts. It took hours to boil the course rice from the bag we salvaged and our clothes stank from lack of any running water to clean them. It bothered me too, but I could see it bothered them more.

But my brother, he never lived in a world without phones and the internet. Even as we sat by the fireplace with the pot boiling rice and the low firelight flickering across our downtrodden faces, he would take out his precious phone and the foreign blue-white LED light would splatter into the dark. His eyes wide and grasping for hope that he would get a connection again. Each time, it became worse to see; I just wanted to take it from him and throw it into the fire, but I could see it gave him hope and that was the resource that could afford any cost.

“Why don’t you just throw that damn thing away!” my mother said. Her face twisted with frustration as she huddled under Aunt Nono’s blanket.

My brother said nothing but clicked refresh on the unopened web page.

“Didn’t you hear your mother!” my Dad said by the firelight. He threw in a leg to an antique chair and the smoke smelled like varnish.

“Maybe it came back up! The government was trying to bring it back in places.”

He clicked refresh again and I could see tears in his eyes. I reached over and put a hand on his. He looked over suddenly with wide eyes.

“You’ll waste the battery.” I said

Slowly he clicked away the screen and put it back in his pocket.

“We’ll try again when we can move.”

The first month or so we had to live this way, sitting by the fire waiting for the rice was full of conversation. We’d reminisce over things and the places we went and how things might get closer to how they were. I always knew that things would never go back to how they were. I didn’t say anything, but I think they knew.

Now we just sat by the fire, watching the flames like the enigma of life. The only sound now the lapping of its magic tenderals on the pot, the snapping of ancient wood, and the occasional bolt of thunder beyond the thin confines of the house. There was no telling if it was natural thunder or not. The silence with each other was a fearful and tense comfort.

We had to find things to occupy ourselves. Nono’s store had a collection of strange knives and I learned pretty well how to throw them and a series of marks embedded into the far wood panels of the wall showed practice. My favorite was a sort of curved knife with a curved handle of bone with a large pommel at the end. I would idly learn how to spin it between my fingers. I taught my brother as well.

“I’m gonna look outside.” I said, standing.

My family looked at me.

“Be careful.” My mom said.

“I’ll look too.” My brother said and got up.

Beyond the thin wooden door was the storefront, still full of junk and antiques which were now of little value except to burn. An old globe, the kind you’d see in old movies in some rich guy’s study, stuck out among brass poles to a disassembled trundle bed. Coffee tables and handcrafted chairs with floral patterns on their cushions from a bygone but not a dissimilar era.

The big glass windows that looked out to the big parking lot showed the rubble and deep holes gouged into the tarmac. The other stores in the old strip mall plaza were dark. Old cars, either smashed into twisted metal or burned to a solemn husk littered the cracked and jaunted pavement. In the distance, a tall building was engulfed in flame. It had been burning for two days.

The sky was clouded with a low overcast that had been present for nearly a month, and tiny speckles of rain formed on the glass panes. Under my poncho and my brother under his blanket, we moved to the window and looked up. Beyond the clouds flashes of orange light could be seen and their mystery was terrifying and out of our control.

The two of us just looked and said nothing for a long moment.

“What do you think is going on?” My brother finally said as booms and rumbles reached our feet.

“I don’t know. The government could be trying to fight them.”

Suddenly an object burst from the clouds far away. Behind it carried a streamer of blue flame and debris broke away and spiraled in streaks of blue.

“look!” My brother said.

The object became more clear, and it seemed to be nearing us. An aircraft of some strange design. I couldn’t see any wings and my brother adjusted his old rayban glasses to see better.

“Get back.” I said as the craft broke apart further, it’s hulk rocketing down.

The craft struck the burning building and the largest part skipped off of it in a shower of fire and rubble. It moved very fast now in our direction and crashed against the smashed pavement at the edge of the parking lot. The sound was a tumult and the ground shuddered under our feet as it came to rest at the far end of the plaza.

From what I could see, it was not a government plane or design at all. Wordlessly we watched it as blue flames rose up to the heavens.

From the side a door could be seen opening and we pressed up to the glass to see. Several small blue humanoid creatures exited it and milled about the wreck, they had weapons of some kind and red spines flaring off of their heads. At the distance we were, it was hard to tell what they were doing, but they were the survivors.

“It’s them.” I said, and the primal fear took hold. We looked at each other and both bolted back to our parents.

“We NEED to go.” I said

Mom and Dad both looked up at us, breathing heavy.

“What is it?” My dad said standing.

“A ship or something just fell and some of them  are out there in the plaza.”

We took no time to hurry our things together. The hunger was what lead my dad to strain the half cooked rice, pouring the water over the fire and make for the door last with the pot in his hand. We left the embers for whomever might find it.

The four of us moved swiftly as we could out into the woods next to the highway and we did not stop moving until dawn rose the world into a grey.

Ants & Telepathy

“Mosquitoes pay ants no mind. They lack the sustenance needed. And as I watch what looks like some kind of ant highway, a daddy long-legs marches above them through the tall grass.

Species that don’t bother eachother.

I don’t trouble them, but by my very nature I couldn’t live among them.

I’m too big.

And that’s why the mosquitoes like me.”

Do you think ants see themselves as individuals?

Not family relations, but the insects.

I mean If you take the thought experiment to say that maybe they could have a sense that they are one among many and not in the sense that they have thoughts and feelings. But I mean they could for all we really know.

Apparently the more ants you have in a group, the smarter they become, which seems to be the exact inverse of humanity.

In that regard, perhaps ants all feel and sense the collective colony, seeing the world as one organism. Rather than a bunch of ants working at menial goals, they understand the implications of it all, their place in it as more of an appendage. They would probably feel themselves closer to a plant, with far stretching roots and systems.

Such things would require a certain degree of what we would call telepathy. Whether you believe in it or not, I don’t think if it existed that it would be as simple as “talking” in other people’s heads. Words were around much later from any biological ability. It would be in feelings, images. or just plain impulses to do things.

I recently read that aboriginal Australian tribes have a “system” where when they feel a twitch or a pain randomly in their body, they can touch that place on them, enter a meditative state and somehow “see” a relative (an aunt if you will) or a location that they know. All the article told me was that it was startlingly accurate, as telepathy was just a small caveat to a greater conclusion about the brain.

In this busy world of business we live in of internet and numbers, perhaps that key part of the brain was lost or clouded from us. Perhaps it’s still there somewhere deep inside. It could be for all we know.

Johnny6

<————– Continued from Johnny5

Pat looked out the window. As he furiously smashed buttons on  the observation room console, he swiveled the microphone and spoke.

“Johnny you need to relax.”

Johnny did not respond as the Regallion came into view on the far side of the station.

“Johnny, the combat stims should be wearing off now. Just THINK for a moment.”said Pat.

The ship ponderously turned about and aimed it’s prow directly at the room where Pat was. The energy bursts from the engines fired out from behind and into the vast blackness in the background.

Pat needed to act. Words were not going to work with someone hopped up on solder juice. He needed to use the emergency transporter. Pat stopped pushing buttons, and looked towards the yellow and black bordered glass chamber on the adjacent wall. The empty space spoke only danger to him, and the words of his training instructor came back to him.

The gruff, cropped-top, aviator-sporting pro spoke with the intense authority of a man who was required to give a safety speech. Truth be told the mustachioed fellow did not expect any of the valets to do anything correctly.

“This is the A1-7 transporter. It is very similar to the standard pedestrian model, however it does not have a direct link to any standard receiving portal. In the case of an emergency where a ship is out of control and headed towards the station, this transporter can be used to “board” the out of control ship. It accesses a transporter inside and deposits a subject in there.

Be warned however, that these devices are unstable and can constitute a serious threat if used improperly. Without the exact correct coordinates, a subject will simply dissipate beyond the realm of scientific knowledge.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Pat’s temple. The Regallion approaching the point of no return. The space Valet prepared the A1-7 system, planned out the trajectory of the ship, and pulled himself from his chair.

As fast as his legs could take him, he heaved himself across the room, threw open the door to the chamber, and stepped inside. Through the glass of the window and the chamber, the Regallion continued on, without any sign of deviation, and no word from Johnny.

Inside the chamber was a big red button. On the wall was a red and green light. With the coordinates set, all he needed was to hit the button, just as the ship passed into that place in time and space. Pat tried to watch the dim green light, waiting for it to spark to life, yet the spaceship outside was growing nearer. The flashing lights of the station patrol could be seen forming behind the ship, but they were too far and to late to do anything.

Suddenly the light flashed green and Pat slammed his hand down on the red button. It was not like the other transporter. It did not go “Whirr”, it made a piercing, radioactive “VOIP”, de-atomizing Pat and casting him into the temporary link with the Regallion’s transporter.

Pat found himself in a dark room falling violently into a stack of boxes.Pat felt as though he was the thickness of a five mile piece of string that had been wrapped around a thumbtack. Slowly shaking off the twists in his thoughts and the sudden understanding of pea soup, Pat pushed himself up from the boxes, tripping several times before getting up in the dark. He staggered towards where he thought the door was as his mind came back up to speed.

The door to the small storage closet burst open as Pat fell into a corridor. The hallway had orange rust walls with brown seashell imprinted borders. The carpeting was a guacamole green and the ceiling was white. Along the walls were various portraits of people, and end tables with sky blue or green lamps. The doors were all brown wood with brass knobs.

It was as though whoever designed this ship was fascinated by detour from the early 1970’s.

It phased Pat a moment before he took off, his heavy breaths deepening in his panic to find where the bridge might be in this giant flying house.

magnificentfacilities.wordpress.com

magnificentfacilities.wordpress.com

To be continued…

Johnny4

“WHY DO YOU EVEN HAVE THOSE!!” Johnny squeaked into the mic, sweat beading on his forehead and commingling with the irritated skin on his pimple thing. The vision around the exact point he was looking blended together in faded colors as his pupils shrunk to about half their normal size.

“Hey man, chill out, this isn’t a secure channel.” Said Pat “Just try to find a way to-”

“Did you just tell the guy – you gave combat stimulants to – to calm down?” asked Johnny, the tingling bumping pulsing adrenaline coursing through his dilated veins speeding up now.

“Listen,” Said Pat “you’re going to be fine if you just-”

“No, You listen, I think there is a fundamental flaw in your fucking logic!” Johnny said hunched over the controls, breathing heavy, the frustration of the hangover, the tunnel vision of the stimulants, the sting on his forehead. “I don’t have a freakin’ choice, I’m NOT going to calm down, and I’m going to take the ship in docking bay 556 back, and when I do, I’m gonna RAM IT UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!”. In that moment, the pressure in his head had built up to the point where the bump on his forehead burst open, and a fleck of white shot out and landed on the observation window.

“Johnny-”

Johnny smashed his fist into the button for the mic, his face purple with the onset of a vicious rage. He made his way to the airlock door which opened before him into the dock with the transporter as the lone object in the white paneled room. His boots scuffed against the linoleum floor, the red in his eyes were that of crimson hatred and anxiety.  Blood ran in a small rivulet from his forehead.

(I feel as though here it may be necessary to tell you a little about the drug Pat had unwittedly given his co-worker. What he thought was basic acetaminophen was actually a chemical compound labeled only under the TOP SECRET database at the Federation capital. No one besides high level security forces actually knew it’s chemical name and it’s strict monitoring made it a nearly imposable substance to obtain relationally. Pat had some serious connections, and friends with drug problems. Simply known to the small levels of proliferation, both legal and illicit, the compound was simply called “Stims”.

Stims legal uses were to give to drop troops as they were about to hurtle from an orbital platform through a planet’s atmosphere and immediately into heavy ground combat. The Drug balanced out certain chemicals for peak awareness, pain reduction, endurance, and control.

This had the overall effect of actually heightening one’s metabolism, blood flow, O2 intake, speed, focus, and irritability for one at rest; It’s “control” effects only helpful to those under extreme physical conditions. The depressant effects of the alcohol, the dehydration of the hangover, and his previous irritability commingled with the Stims that had only begun to enter his body. He was beginning to “come up” as it were, but at the “peak” of the combined effects….)

Johnny dropped the ignition key for the Carrilion on the floor and waited on the transporter. A moment later the blue light swirled around him and he was at docking bay 556. He moved like an ape machine, snatching the ignition key for the Quadrant Skipper and stepping through the air locking doors. The Quadrent skipper was a long term space passenger ship, made for the opulent and well to do, like a yatchet or something. This one was named the Regallion.

Johnny moved through the living space, the game tables and puffy couches in recessed areas in the floor passed as unnoticed as the minibar near the cockpit. The valet jumped into the pilot seat, turned the ignition key, punched in the clearance numbers, and ratcheted up the thrusters to full power.

The kinetic energy of the space yacht’s engines scored the rear wall of the spaceport and the ship groaned as the coupling arms fought against their force. A heaving sound of metal would have been heard by Johnny if he was not an ion in a building torrent of anger. Instead, he was just, “aware” that the couplings had broken off and the ship was flung forwards into space.

He had one goal forming in his mind. It began as rational as anyone could be. he was going to bring back the ship needed at the docking bay, collect any tip, and return to pat, very perturbed about the fact that he had been given something he did not expect.

This idea changed in a manner of moments, and although at the time his remark of, quote, “…I’m gonna RAM [the ship from docking bay 556] UP YOUR FUCKING ASS!” was largely an empty threat, it began ringing through his mind. The moment of running the Quadrant Skipper into the observation room, the huge explosion, the crushing metal. It all became….so appealing.

To be continued.

Johnny3

<————— Continued from Johnny2

The Carillion Orion lurched upwards towards the docking bay. Johnny rubbed his eyes to combat the yellow spots which had formed on his vision. The weight of his hangover was a constant pressure but at this point the act of piloting was second nature to him. Carillions all had the same thruster and control layout to each other, and they were a dime a dozen. The seats were big puffy leather; everything clicked into place, the buttons were an old school style, raised lighted cubes which clicked in and out of place. The screens were all a green hue as he input the coordinates and path of motion through the busy space port to the private valet hanger.

“Okay” Said Johnny to himself as a welling in his stomach began to quicken his focus. As the ship made its way, larger ships with outboard docking passed as the blinking lights and windows of the station fluttered by from the huge mass of the floating city.

He eased forward on the long lever at the center console, slowly and deftly navigating between cruisers and digital checkpoints.

Suddenly a Velock Nightwhisp darted out from the underside of the fueling station. It was a smaller ship, modified from the Velock F-75 fightercraft. It blazed across the surface of the station without regard for the Digital Traffic Navigation Systems (DTNS). Several whirrs and whistles went off on the Orion’s consoles and Johnny had only a split second to react. Largely it felt like his body was some other entity but it at least had a better reaction time than his mind. In a flash he somehow changed the guidance to manual and jerked the controls up and back.

The Nightwhisp sped through his pathway, missing inches from each other. Johnny let out a gasp of relief. But, he was now not on his planned trajectory and at any second a similar scenario could occur. Two Station Five interceptors whizzed past moments later in pursuit of the nightwhisp as a large freighter passed overhead. Johnny looked about the cabin at the sensor arrays. They showed no more incoming ships. Calmly he returned to his set course.

“Asshole.” said Johnny, pushing forward on the thrusters towards the large bay of the valet hanger.

The hanger dominated the entire wing of station five, angled metal scaffolding encased several ships which had already been parked. Another Carrilion, a C-class, was detached and slowly made its way out in front of him, but this time with ample room.

Johnny passed the bays to the open one where the other ship left, passing all manor of spacecraft illuminated by orange and yellow lights in their holds.

Shifting the thrusters, he spun the ship around and used the reverse engines to back slowly into the bay. This was without a doubt the hardest part of the job, one hair off or askew could cause the couplings in the bay to miss a sturdy hold on the craft.

Most ships now a days had reverse guidance systems with sensors and correction codes. The Carrilion Orion was by no means a modern craft. It had one camera and a dot in the center. As Johnny jammed the lever to reverse, the screen in front of him lit up and showed the docking bay.

Johnny’s small spike in adrenaline from the near miss with the Nightwhisp commingled with a concern for the yellow spots which seemed to appear on the edge of his vision. The welling in his stomach grew and he felt a tingling in his forearms and fingers as he moved to the joystick next to the main controls. His head still pounded with the dehydration of his hangover as he channeled his energy to use calm, smooth movements. The pimple on his forehead hurt as he concentrated on putting the little red dot exactly on the center of the back wall of the dock.

This precise task frustrated him beyond any reason yet necessity and some divine power flowed through Johnny. Against all the negative factors blaring out for attention, Johnny was surprised with himself as he eased the ship back with perfect precision.

He let out a tired groan and fell back in his chair when he heard the couplings latching onto the fuselage.

The radio suddenly squawked from the controls of the Orion.

“Yo man, bring back the ship in dock 556.”

Johnny recognized the voice as his co-worker Pat.

“Rodger.” he said, disengaging the ignition key and standing very quickly to get to the transporter outside the bay dock.

His head rushed and the yellow flashed before his eyes in a moment of disorientation.

Gaining his bearings, he slammed the button to the radio again and yelled into the mic. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU GIVE ME!”

Pat did not reply for a long few seconds.

His voice came back, crackly over the mic of the Carillion.

“Ohhh.”

“OH WHAT!” screamed johnny, the tingling in his arms taking over his shoulders and neck.

“I think…I may have accidentally given you combat stims.”

To be continued

Entry Service

Grivo’s ship plummeted through the atmosphere at 5X terminal velocity. From the city floating on the ocean surface of the moon, a thin grey streak ran across the sky.

The metal shutter doors over the windows of the cabin pulled up to reveal the vast emptiness of Ganymede. Silver waves reflected in the rays from the small sun on the horizon. The small furry Gederian pressed up against the window from the dash and looked over the curvature of the moon below. His ears perked up and his spiny tail weaved slowly back and forth. In the distance five circular citadels connected by sturdy bridges floated on the ocean surface: the capital.  Grivo looked over to Lynda who had passed out from her dose of Mox V. She reclined deeply into the passenger seat with a sheepish grin plastered on her face.

Slowly, the lights in the cabin began to return and the glow of various controls on the dash returned. Grivo looked away from the human woman to the dashboard and sat back in the pilot’s seat. On the smart windows, the trajectory of the Ganymede entry services program showed an orange pathway down to the city far below. Grivo hit some switches to bring the electronics back online.

After a few silent minutes the surface was much closer and the curvature of the moon was becoming a flatter angle. The silver metropolis below neared quickly as the ocean waters closed beneath them.

A generic tone came over the speakers and the voice of an automated woman came over the comlink:

“Thank you for choosing the Ganymede entry protocol service. We are happy to report a successful entry. You now have landing permits for Capital City, docking bay 94 on the near side of the main citadel. Your trajectory and velocity can be modulated by the program, but manual control will be restored once a safe operational speed has been achieved.”

Grivo sighed. He looked to the speedometer and leaned back in his seat to wait for the program to take the ship down to the dock.

“Would you like to participate in a short survey to reflect upon the nature of your entry? This can help us fine tune our program to better serve you in the future.”

“No.” said Grivo into the comlink.

There was a short pause before the voice of the woman returned

“Thank you. This survey should not take more than five minutes.”

“No!” said Grivo.

“Question one:” Said the program as the ship hurtled closer towards the city. “On a scale of one to five, one being completely unsatisfied and five being most satisfied, how courteous was your GES representative.”

“Umm. three.” said Grivo as he massaged his temples. Lynda stirred in the passenger seat.

The recorded voice returned. “Question two: How comfortable was your entry experience. One being most uncomfortable and five being-”

“Ahh, are we there yet?” muttered a dazed Lynda.

As the surface neared, Grivo looked back to the speedometer. The speed was unchanged from entry.

” Um three.” Said Grivo into the comlink. He sat up in his seat and looked over the dash.

Lynda laughed “What does that mean?”

“I’m answering this survey. We’re just coming in.”

Lynda settled back into her chair. “Wake me when we land.”

Grivo’s brow furrowed “…But, our speed should have slowed by now.”

The ship shot trough the air of Ganymede towards the city below, now growing larger in the windows.

“Question Three:” Said the automated woman “How successful would you rate the GES program?” Grivo’s eyes flew over the controls and he began to pull back on the throttle. Nothing changed. The city neared before them.

“What?” said Lynda picking her head up.

“We’re coming in too fast!” said Grivo, now flipping switches and trying to pull the controls back.

The voice of the recorded woman was confused. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that. On a scale of one to five, how successful would you rate the GES program?”

“I don’t have any control, the program is locking me out.” The city was now much closer. Somewhere in one of the towers below, a worker monitored the ship’s progress. A smile spread across their lips.

“Are you Kidding me!” Lynda said, now bolt upright in her seat. The waves below could be seen lapping against the citadel platform in the sun.

“I need to override the program” said Grivo, suddenly diving below the dashboard near the rudder peddles. He began to claw at the underpannel.

The calm voice returned: “I’m sorry, i didn’t catch that-”

ONE!” yelled Grivo as he threw off the panel and began to pull out wires.

Their altitude continued to plummet as Lynda gripped the armrests of her chair. WIth wide eyes she watched as the silver city infrastructure filled the windows. Grivo pulled out a circuit board form beneath the dash and threw it across the cabin. Lynda rose as the towers below became clear. Speeder car traffic and monorails zoomed below in the tangled cityscape of the growing city below.

“What should I do!?” screamed Lynda looking over to Grivo’s feet sticking out from under the dashboard. The spines on his tail were frayed outwards as he furiously ripped out wires and electronics.

The survey continued. “Question Four: Would you recommend the GES program to any future travelers? Say yes or no.”

“NO!” Grivo yelled, “Take the controls, pull the thruster back and pull up on the wheel!”

The windows and towers were now flying by as the ship hurtled into the city at a blistering speed. Lynda shook away confusion and jumped the center console, grasping the controls with white knuckles and pulling back as far as they would go. The hanger was fast approaching in the main central tower.

The ship rocketed through traffic to the surprise of commuters on the skyway.

Red and blue lights began to flash in front of Grivo’s face as the wires hanging around him shook with the motions of the ship.

“Question five. Would you be willing to donate to the GES in order to reduce the cost of entry? Please say yes or no.”

Lynda closed her eyes and put her whole weight into pulling back on the wheel. Buildings and speeder cars were all around them as Grivo pulled out one last wire from the tangled underpannel. The ship groaned and shook as the craft suddenly hurtled upward at fantastic speed. Lynda held fast to the controls as they shook in her hands. The hanger building loomed in front of them and in a split reaction, Lynda twisted the wheel around. Dampers opened all around the ship and the thrusters dimmed as the craft corkscrewed away from the tower, spinning with velocity out over the city and into the sky. Grivo was flung from under the dash, past Lynda, and into the ceiling.

Lynda pulled back on the throttle and straightened out the ship’s course before letting out a deep sigh. The ship drove high above the metropolis and slowed to a safe and quiet speed.

Lynda crumpled over the dashboard and breathed heavy, the sweat beading on her neck and face.

“We made it.” she said

Grivo let out a manic laugh. Lynda looked back to see him dangling from the ceiling, the spines on his tail stuck into the upholstery.

The automated woman on the comlink returned:

“This concludes the Ganymede entry protocol service. Thank you and enjoy your stay here on Ganymede.”