trans_9 | Enchanted Aquatica---the Prom [WIDE OPEN Y'ALL]

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Enchanted Aquatica---the Prom [WIDE OPEN Y'ALL]

The day had finally arrived for her big event, and Starfire couldn't be happier---or more nervous, actually. She was certainly not an expert on the inner workings of a prom, but it couldn't be too terribly complicated, right? As long as the people could eat, dance, and talk, it should be a reasonable success.

With that in mind, her decorations sprung from her mind into the large dome all around her, transforming a grey Sensorium into a beautiful underwater world, one with clear waters and free from the possibility of a shark attack.

The first change was the scent of the air, shifting into the comforting salty scent of the seas. Then the ground beneath her feet became a hardened sandstone, maintaining the gritty texture while remaining easy to walk upon---except for the smooth dance floor, of course. The grey dome transformed into a flowing bluish-green, rippling all around with fish of all colors passing in the background. Some of the 'sky' faded into a violet tone over the dance floor, lit by glowing circular lights in every color. Suspended in midair, they almost looked like motionless fireflies, though they sometimes swayed in tune with songs.

Tables arose from coral in all colors, rising from the ground and twisting to provide a flattened surface on the very top---rounded ones for guests, and long tables off to the side containing shell-bowls of food. Chairs were large floating clam shells with well cushioned interiors, some large enough to hold two people. More comfortable spongy places to sit were also littered across the area, notably by the large shell-shaped enclosure that was the promised swimming pool. It too was lit by the floating lights, providing what she hoped was a romantic atmosphere.

Finally, the glowing stage above the dance floor couldn't help but attract attention with its chairs. Six royal thrones and one plush chair of all colors directly in the middle rested in the back of the stage, leaving the front open for announcements. Just off to the side of the stage stood the DJ's table, with even that machine painted to match the soft underwater glow of the scenery.

Everything finally seemed pleasing to Starfire. With one last change, dressing herself in the formal attire of the prom, she sent out the signal to everyone and waited. She hoped they would have a wonderful time.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"He'd gone through all the standard new hire screening; they should have caught it if he was suicidal. There was an organic memoryfilm in the Hold, rather than a camera, so we could see what he'd done. He snuck in there with a little earpiece, plugged it into the crack box and just listened for about four minutes, nodding his head and muttering something back once in a while. And then he picked the box up and slung it onto his back and he was gone." She snaps her fingers, to show how quickly a life flares away.

"People said that of course, since he was new, the AI must have kept track of his interviews and tests, and known exactly what to say. That was the reassuring thing to say. Better to think that, than to think that an AI could cold-read someone and talk them into becoming their vehicle in four minutes."

She finishes off the last of her sushi. "Or maybe it told him it could upload him; turn him into an AI as well."

He shrugs. "Did I ever tell you about the zombie in my basement?" He doesn't wait for her to answer. "So anyway, this zombie, she's this religious girl, right, real into that Jesus bullshit and the golden rule and everything. She wakes up underground, fused to this psychopath who likes to whip people to death. And um, we kept her in our basement, and eventually she started losing it. And, I mean, who wouldn't?"

He takes a deep breath and puts some more of the food in his pockets. "So after a while, she's completely hopeless, so she gets to going along with the psycho. Starts helping him kill people. This is after she breaks out of our basement. She just...goes with it. Crazy Bible-thumper before who would have cried if she stepped on a bug, and she's helping him torture little kids to death.

"Point is, if a crazy teenager can make someone do that in a few weeks, is it that crazy to think an AI could do that to someone in four minutes?"

"So you kept her in your basement to keep her from hurting people?" She pauses, and then looks at him with respect. "I don't think I could do that. Not in the FAYZ, the way you describe it. I couldn't - keep something dangerous that close to me." I couldn't handle the responsibility, she thinks but doesn't say.

She had always been terrible at being responsible for others' lives.

"Or that an AI, with multiple points of attention and Instancing capabilities, could do it to as many organics as it wanted to, all at once." She shakes her head side to side, and then smiles. "The two of us always have such heartwarming conversations, don't we? We should record them for posterity, except that someone might listen to them and go mad. Maybe not in four minutes, but...."

"I did mention she broke out, right?" he says, with a lingering trace of genuine shame on his face. He was careless. He nearly got Orc killed with his carelessness, overestimated what the big guy could put up with. "I didn't volunteer for the job. Me and Orc were just the only two with the manpower to keep her in place, besides Sam."

And stupid Sam couldn't even do a mercy killing or put up with jailing her. It was Howard and Orc, who were unpopular and unlikeable, who got stuck listening to Brittney wail all night and beg for death. Listen to a twelve year-old girl sob and scream and pray for mercy every minute. Howard and Orc, who eventually had to just get used to it. Ignore the well of misery in the basement, can I interest you in some cooked rat?

Howard feels sick. Maybe it's just because he's been stuffing his face with sushi.

But he laughs anyway. "Seriously. Give us a topic about rainbows and butterflies and I'll bet we get to discussing misery and genocide in fifty seconds."

"Sometimes all the choices are bad ones. And not choosing isn't an option. At least you tried, where Sam would not."

She had once tried to map what something like the FAYZ would have been like on her world, and failed utterly. As soon as the adults were gone, she imagined, all of the children ten years and under would have been culled for food, and then the rest of the survivors would have turned on each other, fighting with hands and teeth and anything they could use as a weapon. The largest and fastest would have survived - one survivor. Until the call came, and they walked away and disappeared.

"We shall both become prize-winning horror novelists, rolling in money and groupies. And when people chirp, 'Where do you get your ideas?', our hands will shudder just-so, and we will whisper, 'You really don't want to know'."

"Watch out, Stephen King. I'm coming for you," he says with a laugh that's a little too loud. "I noticed you do the shakey hands thing too. Haven't run into anyone else on the ship who does."

Everyone else seems so put together. People like Zou, or Rory, who either have everything figured out or don't need to. In a way it's comforting to find someone else with similar mannerisms.

"I actually know who that is! He wrote 'Salems's Lot, right?" Anwei's knowledge of Earth culture was rather spotty.

"Sorry, am I imitating you? Another disadvantage of growing up in a totally insular culture; you end up speaking alien body language. I learned fairly quickly after I left that I should not punch people to get their attention, or yawn at full gape to show them I was bored." She considered yawning in demonstration, but decided against it. Howard would probably try to stuff fruit in her mouth - say, a whole pineapple.

"I don't know. Maybe. He wrote Cujo and Carrie and Christine and like, a million other books about Maine or something. My dad was a big fan." In some regards, Howard's is only slightly better than Anwei's.

He looks a bit disappointed, as if he's lost some idea of kin he had with her. "Oh, no, I thought you just did it naturally."

He probably wouldn't waste food like that, but there's no guarantee he wouldn't try to make Anwei eat a chair or something.

Anwei had been skimming Earth's culture for vampire references before she arrived, else she would never have heard of Stephen King. She wonders if there is some pattern, with all his books apparently starting with C- or S- sounds. Maybe he hissed a lot? A sub-dialect of English relating to horror stories?

She giggles. "My natural expression of nervousness would look like this." She puts her plate down on her lap (the dress-tendrils immediately start exploring it with curiosity), crosses her eyes inwards, and starts picking at the corners of her mouth with her little fingers. "Besides, isn't imitation a form of flattery?"

Chair-eating demonstrations would theoretically require that Howard wear white jodhpurs, a red coat and a top hat, and crack a whip.

He tilts his head. He's never really thought about being able to change one's body language so seamlessly to match one's surroundings. He supposes it shouldn't surprise him, but he tends to let his guard down around Anwei and forget how far from human she actually is. "I guess. Not sure if imitating the shaky hands thing is actually flattery, though. Maybe if you imitated my amazing sense of wit and brainpower or something."

She tilts her head at him. "Some things are beyond me. Hard to imagine, I know."

"In my home dimension, there was a sign language people used to convey body language between species - because it's tough to show sincerity to a species that does so by spreading their wings on high if you don't have any wings. And translations could always end up being imprecise, or misinterpreted, or just flat out wrong."

"Don't steal my head tilt. That's just getting creepy." Besides, he does it so often it's almost signature.

"How does that sign language translate to people who can't sign? Like sentient puddles of blood and that stuff?"

She opens her mouth to point out that her head can't tilt as the same angle as him (different neck vertebrae) but decides not to. Instead she answers, "And you'd better not start imitating my smile, either."

Not that he really could without surgery.

"With a sentient puddle of blood we'd probably use text-equivalents. The issue isn't something that looks very different from you, because your mind automatically tells you that their body language is different. The issue is something that's close enough to you that you can recognize each other's gestures, but they don't have the same meaning.

"If a blood puddle waves its cilia in a way that means 'I don't like you,' you probably won't be upset. But if someone who looks just like you except they have four eyes does this," she draws her finger across her neck, "because that means 'I so respect your opinion that I would give you my voice' and you read it as 'I'm going to cut your throat', well, that's an issue."

"Yeah, don't worry about that." As much as a mouth like hers could be useful when gorging on food during nightly binges. Or eating raw flesh, if it came down to it.

"Besides, that'd have to involve me actually smiling, and everyone else around Medical says I scowl too much." He still maintains that a smirk counts as a smile.

"Oh, I get it. Like how the peace sign if super offensive in Britain."

"Bad idea anyway. Your gums would probably dry out. And you'd get cheek-aches, and the last thing you want to do is wander around asking for a cheek massage."

Cheeky!

She nods. "Exactly. So they came up with 'glinting,' which is an emotion hand-signal language. And even there, I know the five-finger one-thumb two-symmetrical-arms version; there's subdialects for people with no thumbs, or asymmetrical limb arrangements."

"I don't like people touching my face enough as is. No need to add cheek-aches to that reason." Or touching any part of him, mostly.

He nods, listening close. "And what do the people with tentacles do?"

That makes perfect sense; after all if someone stuck their fingers too close to Anwei's face while she was distracted, or about to sneeze, they would probably end up pulling back a stump or five.

"Most species with tentacles just would press four together to designate two arms and least and greatest fingers. The weirdest one I saw - I can't remember the species name - but they had just one tentacle, growing out of their front, and they insisted they didn't have any other limbs. Turned out their antlers were flexible, and they could glint with those, but it was totally taboo to discuss their antlers or even say they had them when they were about to shed them.

"So it would just stand there with its one tentacle pointing at you, and its antlers wriggling, and you would kind of roll one eye," she demonstrates, "to see what the antlers were saying."

And see, with Howard they'll just end up getting scowled at.

He shakes his head. "And everyone's fluent in this glinting? It seems like it makes more sense to just work on translator chips. Your planet seems advanced enough."

What with the decapitating people and keeping their heads alive on pikes and all.

She laughs, mouth yawning wide. "My planet? No way. The Empire didn't care what other species might be feeling; if it couldn't be said in our language, it wasn't worth listening to.

"Glinting was for the species outside the Empire, the ones that cared about negotiating and coexisting and working together, instead of just crushing everything in their path. Explorers, pirates, mercenaries, long-term investors: they invented glinting. The Living People just didn't care."

He should have figured that. He feels dumb that he didn't.

"Here's an idea. When we save this whole universe, we stick your world and my world in the ring together and let them duke it out. Your world wins, of course, because like, technology, but maybe Space Jesus can take a few of your winners out too."

The Empire was huge; it was easy for the people inside of it to pretend that everything outside was a thin line of barbarians waiting to be overrun instead of 'the rest of the universe.' That smug, self-centered view of reality carried over into its subjects, no matter what side of the line they happened to be on.

"I'd prefer to keep our universes from ever meeting, if possible. An Imperial AI might crack open your FAYZ and let everyone go - or it might keep you there to play with. They can be quite sadistic, obviously, seeing who created them."

"Is Space Jesus the one that's four hundred feet tall?" She wasn't very informed on Jesii.

"As long as we can keep them both restrained, I really don't care. They want to destroy all the kids in the FAYZ? I'm not gonna stop them. Can't say I'll miss them," he says darkly. Some days he's more charitable than others, but he's in a mood to entertain the thought of everything he hates about his home getting horribly destroyed by Anwei's.

"No, it's the one in the mines. Brainwashes you into killing people, leaves you totally crazy when it's done. It's cute."

She droops her eyelids at him, her eyes darkening. "Were none of them innocent, ever? What about other children, who might be trapped in other FAYZes - would you condemn them as well? The adults if they were still alive somewhere, the animals, the plants, the Earth itself - nothing was worth missing?"

Because the Empire would drop an entire planet full of sentients into a sun, just for fun. She'd seen it done. She'd seen it vidstreamed, for entertainment.

"A Jesus in the mines," she scowls thoughtfully. "One who didn't rise up and fly away to Heaven, I guess. I'm not that familiar with gods; the ones in my universe were either benign or so evil you kept your distance. Sounds like you got stuck with one of the second." Hopefully this 'Space Jesus' wouldn't come popping out of the pods any time soon.

"Well, when you put it that way. Jeez, Anwei, am I not allowed to fantasize about having stuff I hate go burn in a fire?" He gets defensive. He hadn't been serious. Mostly.

"It's not actually Jesus. It just mindfucks you into thinking it's your god and you have to serve it. Then it makes bug armies that eat all the kids." And as ridiculous as that idea is, it's not one Howard wants to dwell on. He helped clean up the massacre afterwards. Hundreds of dismembered bodies. Limbs dragged hundreds of yards from their owners. Blood on the ceilings. He feels a bit faint.

"I'm all for getting your hate on, so long as you tell yourself it's only a fantasy. Pour it all out and be done with it. That way you'll be nice and relaxed when you see the thing you hate again, and can enjoy destroying it - ah, if that's the way your mind works," she adds hastily. "And if it actually does deserve to be destroyed."

For all her talk of innocence, some things were better off dead.

"Ghastly." The best cure for faintness was, obviously, more food. She offers him a shrimp tail, then pauses and turns it into a beef shish kabob. Handing him a bug right now seemed like it might be - iffy.

Enchanted Aquatica---the Prom [WIDE OPEN Y'ALL]

Re: LOL long horror story is long

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