Wizard-Man: Preface
Posted in Fiction, Uncategorized on December 2, 2011 by GuNNheadPreface:
It must be noted, that, as a Wizard of master class, I have mastery over many things. One of these is the written word, it is a pleasurable pastime of mine. So, one who is reading this, this is a direct instruction from myself. I repeat myself this once. This preface is a direct instruction from myself, a warning if you will, to be followed or risk peril. As a writer and one who has read, I must instruct you, the reader of this encyclopaedic chronologized story, must not re-read passages until you have come to the complete end of the entry. I know it is possible for a readership’s mind to wander, pass by passages of the story arc being told, mindlessly wander over words. On what I hope is most occasions, this reader would have the proclivity to return, backtracking over the lost words, finding a familiar one, and continuing relatively unscathed. However, this book is different from all others, there is no going back. Leave the words behind if you have faltered. It is too late for you. Continue on until the end. You may, then, re-read the full entry from the beginning. This direction is a necessity, for these are the words of a Wizard. A spell is to be caste.
Further notes on this work include but are not limited to, ingestion, digestion, retention, liquidation, liquefaction, spaghettifacation, and rumination. Heretofore seen in differing regards, as per stipulations on the procedures one may be ill-defined. To be succinct, it is not to be thought of, in terms that can be related. The terminology used was not advised in this very instance, and so has been rendered obtuse. Seeing as this is the case, these notes require no notation.
In accordance with the magic used in the process of travel, it is impossible to determine if any of the events depicted in this work are real, past present or future, or created and altered by magic. Any similarity to any being living, dead, or otherwise is merely coincidental, or the work of an evil, unknowable third-party that has created the similarities for sinister ends and untold purposes.
A final stipulation, that has yet to be stated upon the declaration of this preface’s intent speaks towards a new whole of litigations and (word like stipulations). This, is, as it would be bound in volumes, in entitled as a title of finality. This coda, associating and according to wizards and the wizardly, is a prime example toward spellcastes and spellcasters of any sort. This brand, listen towards an attempt at classification, can only be taken in a serious and odious tone, for all others, oafish, foolish, and humorous, will result in end harm. This is to refer of the deathlike variation. Concurrently, this printing is banned from interdimensional publication. If you do not believe this copy you currently hold was created in its dimension of origin, please contact your nearest interdimensional authorities at your nearest convenience.
By and By II
Posted in Fiction, Sci-Fi, The Permanent Mind on September 16, 2011 by GuNNheadWe appear inside the inner world. Installed in the innerworld, not just a temp install for games, but a reality within, a duplicate of the highest order. The companymen did a fine job. Though, I can remember… the pain of being installed. I never thought that anything could hurt that much, even when the nanites set into my body. I wonder how it is, or even if it still is, my body.
“This feels weird.”
“That’s because it doesn’t feel at all. Receptors here, it’s contact based, and we now have digital souls.”
“Can we still contact each other?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to think.”
“Really? I feel a fair amount of clarity buffering.”
“It’s probably because my brain became restructured; it should clear up soon, once the organic/nanite matrix can be rerouted. Tell me if my personality shifts, though…”
“It shouldn’t?”
“Right, now let’s get going.”
I had no trouble dealing with what had been done, for it was all another way to go about it. This, this is the ultimate way to go about it. The entire cybernexus was a permanent infrastructure. It was everywhere, in us, outside of us, inside of itself. To become separately installed… that’s something special. It was the nexus, started out like one giant online portal to play other videogames. It always felt so real, all of them did, but it was still just a game, log in, log off. But with datamapping of the brain, it became a dream to be able to create a duplicate, within the nexus itself.
No gimmicks, guaranteed low rates, fast tracking, instant datapak delivery.
“Wow, now that’s called cash support, and we’re in it!”
“I still think it’s kinda dangerous.”
“Look, we’re talking monthly promotions, here.”
“Yeah, but to claim a bonus for a signdown?”
“Don’t think about it, don’t worry about it, we can provide the best selection towards the end result, we are part of this as users. It’s hard to be beaten.”
“True, but what if we get caught?”
“I don’t even see that as a potentiality. Besides, even if it did happen, the worst thing that can happen is deletion, and not only is that impossible, but we’re backups in here, our real selves still live, and can be reinstalled. The companymen guaranteed that.”
The companymen appeared, logged in, uninstalled. Still way too risky to test on all agents, and rogue agents like these especially wouldn’t risk installing an alternate conciousness on the servers.
Turns out the illegal nanites allowed my body to survive the procedure; my friend, Chaice, was not so lucky. It’s still difficult for my adapting brain to process facial expressions or emotions. I wonder how my outerworld self is taking this. I think for sure I would be feeling sorrow for the loss. I think I am. My friend, however, is completely unfazed. Says he’s better off, free from bondage, a weight off his shoulders. The idea may have infected his brain, I fear.
Still a Good Day
Posted in Fiction on May 25, 2011 by GuNNheadWhen I walked outside today, I never expected to step in a bear trap. However, I did just that. I looked around, seemed that I wasn’t the only unsuspecting person affixed to the ground via a hunk of steel biting their leg. Screaming in pain, it was tough to notice the fine job they did securing the bear traps into the sidewalk. It went unappreciated, honestly; I was unappreciative of their efforts.
Oh well, beyond that, at least something came of it all. People tried to help in the confusion, but it just got bloodier and more hectic. Keeping my steady resolve, and attempting to figure out the situation, get to the root of the compounding questions, I began to sob uncontrollably. It wasn’t my finest moment, simply put. Answers came regardless, as silent black trucks drove into the scene. The people who stepped out were dressed in odd suits, covering all of their body and any identifying features. They walked strangely, like in those horror movies where it’s all weird and uncanny feeling. Like they weren’t human, or had just gotten humanoid forms. To form this sentence carefully: the way they walked stood out as off-putting while I was affixed to the sidewalk via a bear trap.
After they gassed the place, the black trucks weren’t so bad, taking the bear trap fiasco into account. It was a quiet ride, all the screaming people were passed out. I think they used some sort of specialized binding material, because my wrists were fine, though bound. They might have even fixed up the leg wound, though it could have been the gas tricking me. I couldn’t feel much, and was blindfolded, occasionally I heard some muffled movement among the sounds of traffic. I figured it was simply other captures, thinking they should keep quiet as well. It’s an odd feeling, being tied up in a van, kidnapped. You kind of know that screaming and yelling won’t help, but by the time you want to at least try, you pass back out again because you’re feeling sort of woozy.
Or, at least, that’s what happened to me. Either way, when I woke up, I was in a vast field. Green grass surrounded me, beyond that: trees. The sun was warm, and from what I could tell, it was noonish, give or take a few hours. I’m pretty great at telling the time by the position of the sun in the sky. My leg felt great, I could even walk on it, surprisingly enough. There were others around, I recognized a few from this morning, and a few more simply from around. I wondered how many people were here, but didn’t fully care. People began worrying, talking. I simply accepted it, and walked westward into the expanses of soft grass. It felt weird on my shoes, too soft compared to the floors and sidewalks I’m used to. Eh, today wasn’t so bad.
The Satan Experiment
Posted in Fiction, Horror on May 11, 2011 by GuNNheadI thought it would be so easy. There were cults, offshoots throughout history, recent history even: an easy way to mislead people through their beliefs. Give them some sort of hope, a way to fight the world at large, to fight back for themselves how I did. I struggled and I overcame. I was never the best person, but I certainly wasn’t the worst. I worshipped the worst. I wanted to lead others in this. I also wanted to get rich in the process, but that’s not a bad thing, is it? Greed, it was a tool to aid my master. Satan. Heck, it was worth a shot, I already had a nice house a distance away from the nearest neighbour, secluded in the hills.
Getting followers was the easy part, a lot of people want to worship, but where to do it? They wanted, needed and desired a community. The feeling of belonging. I felt that within myself. These people, lost in their lives of depression could not. I guided them. Outfits, donations. I truly built something, and before long, I felt that I belonged as well. In my attempt to attain money, I’d attained friends within the honouring of the devil, our dark lord. I felt a part of a community. I felt bad for manipulating these people. We were together in satanic rituals and so much more.
Before long, I’d made friends, I was in power. I was Satan’s messenger. Chosen by myself. They were my followers. One in particular was truly devout in her faith, Christina. She followed the rites to the letter, and soon became my second in command. She was an amicable lass, very even-tempered. I could never tell if she truly worshipped satan, or was merely faking the hardest to fit in. Most of the people, I could tell. It was an alternative way to fit in, not a belief. I’d question my beliefs; I knew I was in it for the money, though I never let on. The people had too much faith in me, there was no question in them that I could possibly not be who I said I was, that my belief ran straight through my soul, even before that one night…
Everyone was gathered together in the circular ritual room, and we all started to chant, Christina, the virgin was beginning to worry… we could smell the fear in her sweat… our chanting became louder and louder. I led them as they all began to violently grab at each other and stimulate one another; the ground began to cave in and Satan emerged. His gigantic, raging hard, veiny erection ripped through the virgin as she screamed out in agony, but knew that what she was doing was what she was born to do: sacrifice her body to Satan.
Some nights before the end, I began to have nightmares; horrific dreams of the sound of screams. Babies being torn from mother’s wombs, raped, mutilation. The smells, oh god the smells. I could never have fathomed these without the aid of hell. Sulphur; the innards of a man, mixing. These things have no correlation, they are guttural, when I smelt them, I knew them all too well. I woke up to her, Christina, my follower looming over me, staring, but, upon closing my eyes and reopening, there would be nothing. My door, locked. I ignored it at first.
The other occultists had been looking at me differently, but not in a suspicious manner. More of a hunger for more. I still had plenty to feed them. The book of Satan is a large one, after all. Teaching and learning are much the same process, and I guided them with what I had learned from my readings. Ways to live best. It was the touching that disturbed me the most. When I would walk by some of the members, a brush upon me was felt. There were smiles exchanged. What should have been warm and welcoming somehow felt cold and foreboding. It was then that their faces came to me after nightmares. More and more faces, always after the smell, the horror.
It was the final night that I saw their faces over my bed before the hellfire enveloped me, and hell came calling. The smiles of my once-followers grew rows of demoniac teeth, and horns erupted from their temples and foreheads. Each of my bones were broken by invisible forces. The flesh tore from my body, and I was bathed in sulphuric salts. This was no nightmare, this was the price I was to pay, for a life of mine, I would be in an eternity of His.
Synopsis:
A man begins a satanic cult in order to worship satan (and make a boatload of money while he’s at it). But slowly, things start going wrong. The occultists begin to act differently, without explanation. Soon, the leader’s position as the head of the cult is in sincere danger as things much deeper than the wallets of his followers is at stake.
End By End II
Posted in Fiction, Sci-Fi, The Permanent Mind on May 9, 2011 by GuNNheadThe two enter the pod, agony in hand. The extraneous gear gets off right away. The brick hooks, up, and charges in their stead, siphoned to hers. Easy.
“Where’s your storage?”
“In the basement, same as anything else?”
“Right, wasn’t even a question.” They leave, and the door solidifies behind them. They walk down the smooth colored walls. It’s a brightness not available in true reality, perfect for their geostation, the Galactic Halo. Entering the lift, a note of fear enters his brain.
“This isn’t… would… Newgov will have our asses for sure for this one if it goes wrong, won’t they?”
“It’s the same for nearly everything done here. But, yes, this more than any other.”
“Ha!” the doors slide open, and they walk to storage locker C-18 “Well, you know what they say:”
“If you can play, we can pay!” Saying it together, they exchange a hearty laugh, echoing the darkened steel and concrete of the sub level. Before long, they arrive at his storage. The door dissolves as all the others. He enters the room, and emerges with a cold metallic briefcase.
“Here they are, let’s get this done.”
They arrive at her pod, and begin inside.
“Wow, I didn’t even think this was possible! How many bricks are in here? This can’t be safe!”
“You worry too much, it needs this, come on, check your value here, I’ll set up the discs, run them on a double, then loop the block to pass. After hinging, of course.”
“At least it’ll be safe.”
“I hope so.”
The two work diligently, she performs her tasks with a nimbleness not seen outside the inner world. When he is able to catch it out of the corner of his eye, it disturbs him. There’s no way interlocked in his mind for it all. It simply doesn’t.
“I know you know what you’re doing, but I hope the results work out for us.”
“I hope so too, but if this isn’t based on Type-6, and a whole new type like I think it is, we can’t be beat, we’ll earn big by playing. Unless, of course, we encounter the protus.”
“But wouldn’t doing this basically ensure we encounter it?”
“Well, yes, but that’s why I have you installing alongside me.”
“You really think I’m that good?”
“Inside? Yes, the electricity is chemical. What’s the readout?”
“It’s all good here.”
“Great, time to test this out: “the paradisio drive.”
“So, what, exactly, does this do?”
“It’ll give us an unknown advantage. I can’t even explain it out here, and it’s far too dangerous to even talk about it in there. For all intents and purposes, we’re just playing.”
On the inside:
“You have picked for the first round of today’s games!”
“Ugh, damn ads.”
“No amount of tech will remove those, I guess.”
“C’mon, the rounds are launching. We have to play.”
They flow downwards through the pathstream. Data of rush transverses the constructed ether, towards a piloted goal of time and skill. There is only a realness felt here. It’s not a certainty of feeling, but is a reality of the brain. In such a way, that is, to cloud the fog of the outside. The death, the sand, the desolation.
Every game gives you more.
“These guys are giving away 20,000UEC bonus to all entrants, get yours here!”
“Yeah, we know, adbot!”
“Psst, no, guys, it’s me, Ceta.”
“Ceta? How are you doing here?”
“Yeah, last I heard they found you, dead.”
“It’s not a way to slide, I’m here for life. It’s hard to explain. In short, they did.”
“But that doesn’t make sense.”
“It does, but I can’t say this close, we’d need a closed channel. Next cycle, worldtime, y’know, the innercyde.”
“Perfect, we’ll install on a secure-pain.”
“Until, then, don’t spill a byte to a soul.”
“There’s no such thing, see you then.”
“Try all our games and collect more extra cash!” He disappears back into the adbot, slipping through the cracks in the lifecode.
They continue through past the netic-ghost, into the arena. In the center of the large room, vidlinks on all the walls, they focus on the one dead ahead. The big seller, damn near a job, or, the best anyone can get nowadays.
“There it is, the brand new and now best way to earn UEC: Sybaritic: The Havoc Onslaught” Their minds double-click in unison, and they leave the bounding overworld into a narrower channel.
End By End I
Posted in Fiction, Sci-Fi, The Permanent Mind on May 6, 2011 by GuNNhead“Your new favorite game.”
“Shut up, you always say that.”
“And each time they get better, do they not?”
“In some ways, but, as you may already know, I don’t like dying.”
“More slots are open to you now more than ever, we have no worries about in our setup.”
“In our setup? Did you not hear about the guys who got all those newgov chips?”
“Oh please, that’s just a stupid rumor.”
“Well, I heard one of them was a girl too!”
“Don’t start up with that synapse phase bullshit again. It doesn’t even compute.”
“It totally does, it’s all about the connection, see, and-” he sees her glare, and stops. “Either way, they were able to get the companymen to get them in!”
“The companymen don’t exist, and if they did, nobody without some seriously gravity connections could find them. Unless it’s… well, it’s unimportant.”
“Right, we need to move ahead in the game.”
“Oh no, not yet. This one reads from an altered source. It can’t just be accessed, and the installation process is a total fragmentation.”
“So how’s everyone else playing it?”
“They’re not, they only think they are. I’m talking about the real game, here.”
“So, meta?”
“Beyond the common meta we do here. I’ve been following this release, it’s unlike anything I’d ever seen in the public domain. Newgov doesn’t even know what they’ve released.”
“Are you talking about this game? It’s just the most killer install ever made, a big budget cash grab for the junkies in this fucking desert.”
“I wish it was. But it’s infected, could be bad, could be good. It’s just… unknown, plus these schemas I was able to get, it’s pure redshift.”
“Don’t you mean blueshift? Like, that’s what they do! You’re probably just over-installed; you gotta purge sometimes, man.”
“I know what I read, I know what I saw, I can handle my install-base, and, most importantly: I know what I’ve been building.”
“Building?”
“When have you ever known me to find ecliptic schemas and not try to reproduce them?”
“Still, what would a redshift possibly accomplish?”
“Depends who’s doing it. This exo is so advanced I could barely understand it at first. It could do anything, internal, external. The way it affixes a mindwave, it’s like it was created by someone who totally derailed and lived: a genius who doesn’t know it, but with incredible drive towards an unknown purpose.”
“So, what do we do?”
“We try it out. I need your help for the final bit.”
“Well, if this does what you say it does, I have to, if only for curiosity, what do you need from me?”
“I need your pod, well, and your schizo discs.”
“They’re so obsolete, I put them down in storage.”
“Exactly, they just need a rehinge, and they’re perfect. We should go now, first to the pod, then storage. I have to transvert some dynamism.”
