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(Turq) How I Learned To Overcome Cannibalism

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posted on Jun, 15 2004 @ 08:38 PM
“Hello, my name is Cronos and I have problem,” Cronos stated with a slight quiver in his voice. The reserved dryness hinted he had practiced the line for hours. This was the first step in which he wished to justify his present existence to the group, to excuse his undertakings.

“Hello Cronos,” the chair jockeys bellowed! The chairs were constructed of liquid metal which function to adjust to the individual‘s posture, but it only caused the rider to constantly re-adjust their racing positions. The members themselves were a mish-mash of types. A gift basket of phantom papayas and spent artillery shells: tall and short, male and female, human, machine and those like Cronos who were in the between stage of being in-between.

“I…err…well, it all started back when I first became infected with Jrang worms,” Cronos said as the arms of a hush encircled the crowd and squeezed them all in tighter. “NO, no...wait! It’s not what you think! I caught it while trying to assist an injured woman in a hover car crash!” He was quick to reiterate only to halt that verbal plane in mid-flight and somberly flutter down on semi-gelatinous wings. “The woman died in my arms…weeping…blood…everywhere.”

The support group eased back into their seats almost in disappointment for the lack of bad soap opera sexual drama. It seems as though we all love a good pornographic car crash and, as you must know by now, the main cause of Jrang worm infection is intercourse with those from the moon Europa. The intermingling of fluids between the species gives life to the deadly but normally dormant bacteria. It has been jokingly dubbed ‘The last venereal disease you will ever need’ because the flesh of the victim begins to rot. Thus the reason why most of the infected become cyborgs: replacement parts.

A kind, but stern, elderly woman broke the silence with a clap of her hands. Parrhesia, the group counselor had been working in such a capacity for years. “I know that this is difficult for you Cronos, but please go on. Part of the recovery process is admitting the problem to yourself and sometimes that admission is best acknowledged when said aloud,” she regally stated. One could just tell who the ringmaster was in this sideshow carnival and it wasn’t because of the bull-whip she held…or the thigh high black leather boots. Damn, that’s hot!

“Ok. As I’m sure you are all aware, a symptom of the bacterial infection is the craving for Europian flesh. After awhile I had developed the yearning for any sort of flesh to satiate the uncontrollable urges. I admit that is my weakness. Being in a military program, I came across many opportunities to…satisfy that hunger, but I have resisted the urge for nearly four months now.” At this point Cronos stopped to dab his brow. He had the beginnings of cyber-manipulations, but was still mostly human and thus continued to have all of the human misgivings.

“You, my new friend, have taken a huge step by revealing yourself to us as well as to yourself and I, and the group, are honored that your would do so,” proclaimed Parrhesia. “In this day and age, you are not as alone as you might believe. I have a close friend that is also dealing with the same dilemma.” Parrhesia turned to the room‘s other tenants and asked, “Now would anyone like to share with Cronos as he is new to the group and is unaware of our prior conversations? Shugo, how about you?”

Shugo sat hunched over the arms that were recoiled into his chest like an old fashioned switchblade. It was not so much in concealment as it seemed that they were his prisoners and nightly lock-down had just occurred. The room fell silent as Shugo began to sway.

“I can’t play paper/scissor/rock with you,” Shugo awkwardly blurted out!

“If you would like more time to compose yourself we will all wait for you,” Parrhesia expressed caringly.

“No, I’m good! He seems nice. Hi-five, Cronos!” As Shugo swung his arm into the air like a angered lawnmower blade, a light spray of sticky fluid sprinkled everything in its range of fire. It seems as though the water works are coming from Shugo’s hand or rather the space in which he would have had a hand. A droplet careens with Cronos’s upper lip and with a quick inhale of air, he nasally consumes it without being noticed. The rush pounds his head to dizzying heights…or perhaps it was more of a surge.

Surge (surj) v. surged, surg · ing, surg · es. 1. To move in a swelling manner as in that of liquid waves. 2. The oscillation of an electrical current. 3. A carbonated beverage of the late twentieth century. 4. The sensation of excitement that a Jrang worm infected cyborg experiences when consuming flesh or body fluids.

“So Surge it is then! I mean come on, ‘Rush‘? What was I thinking?” I ramble shortly before realizing that I left the volume on eleven. The support group turns to set their sights upon me crouched in the corner, feverishly rambling…I mean blinking into a portable (1st person) retinal scan recorder like a sports commentator. It seems as that my mistake has turned the spot light upon me and not the event I was reporting.

“Hey! Don’t I know you,” Cronos questioned with a diagonal tilt of his eye brow?

“I’m sorry, but this session is for registered members only! I am going to have to ask you to leave, Narrator,” Parrhesia stated rather firmly as she continually tapped her whip.

“Fine! This story is lame so it is no wonder that I am not in it!” I spat out as stomping across the room and through the door accompanied by the child-like hostility of being left out which trailed not far behind me.

One of the group members jumps upon his chair and suddenly imitates an air-guitar only to quickly sit back down and display the emotion of shame. What a silly emotion Shame is! If you regret it then why play out the action in the first place.

Parrhesia turns her attention back to the group. “My apologies everyone. We update the lock codes frequently, but that narrator keeps bribing the writer to insert him into the story. Shugo, would you please continue with what you were saying?”

“I have never really accomplished much in my life,” Shugo verbally cringed, “but once I was happy for a moment. Proud and excited, but I can never return to that place now. I was a lump of flesh for hire, a mercenary. It was my first assignment and I was the communications officer. We were cut off from our team leader and under attack. I was the only one able to work the perimeter tele-visor and get the team out of the line of fire! Everyone was congratulating me! Glad that I was part of their team. I felt more needed and appreciated at that single moment than in the whole of my life.” Shugo stopped to indulge in a much needed breath and a shutter seemed to surf the miniscule hairs of his arm. Hang ten my friend, divided by an elevated 5ive.

“As a boy, I had always dreamed about giving the ultimate hi-five, but I have horrible hand/eye coordination and always messed it up. BUT at that moment, I had all the confidence I would ever need. I turned to the second in command and imagined my leg muscles as powerful springs. I leaped into action, arching my arm in the air. A perfect ten!” Shugo wiped the welling tears away from his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and continued. A smear of eyeliner corrupted the sleeve, building colonies whose life-span was only as aged as the next day’s washing.

“At that moment, at that exact moment a plasma shot was fired,” he stated as if fighting back the anger. “It disintegrated my hand and a few fingers of the sub-captain’s hand as well as a sliver of his head. He died in the arms of a man whose limbs never healed completely.” A pause, and the room waited patiently…

Just one moment longer…

Almost there…

The bewildered group scan the room at various angles as if searching for the volume adjuster on a television remote. No couch cushions to look between, no wild dingoes running off with it, no lawn gnomes coming to life and indulging in thievery.

“I think that my watch is broke,” Cronos mumbled while thumb flicking the water-proof lens of his timer. The watch had taken on a life of its own and, in a search for water, had burrowed its roots deep within his arm. One never could trust those all-organic watches.

“ACTION!” I manically scream while racing nude past the support group room’s orifice and out the anus of the building.

Parrhesia’s eyes rolled so far back in her head that one could mistake her for a one armed bandit, not the gang of handicapped thieves that have been bumbling about town as of late, but a casino slot machine instead.

“I would like to talk about my problem now,” Sharum declared without missing a beat, “I have been hurt…many times…so many times and somewhere along the way I ceased believing that I could ever trust men. It is best just not to get romantically involved with them and so I turned to the companionship of androids. What I have come to realize is that while androids are far more trust worthy, they do not display believable loving affection and so I feel that I am caring about the relationship more than my partner seems to be. I know that I can’t have it both ways. I only want to feel fulfilled. Sorry if I offended anyone. That‘s all I have to say.”

“There is no need to apologize for the way that you feel,” Intrepid unemotionally stated. Intrepid was one of the older models produced from the Intec Corporation, a TC-1014 multi-functional series android designed primarily for companionship. One could just tell he was an android as no human being could knot a tie so tightly and still be able to breathe.

“I was committed to a relationship with a human female once and she ended it for the same reason that you have stated. All of my programming defined the experience as ’love’, but perhaps I was not constructed with enough data to conclude such a judgment.”

Turning to Cronos, Intrepid declared, “Hello new-comer! As I have just stated, I question my programming and that is what has led me to this support group. I wish to better understand my personality matrix in order to improve myself. I was instilled with the characteristics of seven hundred and twenty-three musicians for the purpose of sexual appeal. The problem with all that is the overwhelming urge to perform guitar solos when my simulators become excited and to perform as such without an instrument is quite inappropriate.”

Sharum understood all about feeling like wanting to feel whole again. Gain, and in turn loss, does that to a person, the leveling of a mountain to a pebble. She gazed at Intrepid like a mother wanting to help a child and waited on the cliff of her chair for him to continue.

“As you might know,” Intrepid began, “My makers, the Intec Corp., became bankrupt years ago and all of the information on my model’s personality construction was burnt in a fire caused by an insurance scam. I am now searching for my future without the benefit of a past to work from.”

“Thank you Intrepid. Epicure, would you like to add anything so that Cronos might feel more at home in our little family,” Parrhesia asked the only member of the group that had not yet spoken. She was a female of average height and attraction. Hair on her head, feet attached to her legs. You know the type, all smug and in order.

“Muuuurrrrrrraaaaaa,” Epicure mumbled while pointing to the swollen mass of abused tissue in her mouth. She had an obsession with consuming her own tongue. Each time it grew back almost complete, but not fully. No one knew quite why as this hungry ghost was never able to complete a sentence. The support group members used their etiquette and were polite enough not to kick in a door that one was opening. This existence is realized and appreciated, but not as an actualized being with feelings and emotions.

“Well, I believe that is all the time we have for today,” Parrhesia declared, “so I think that we should bring this session to a close. Thank you all for sharing with us. I will see you again next week.”

The building doors burst open like an overripe sore and Shugo spews forth like Friday’s school child. Cronos exits shortly after with salivating eyes and an ever quickening pace towards Shugo. The word ‘hunger’ seems to flicker across his eyes like a billboard advertisement. It seems as if someone is about to cheat on their diet. Sharum and Intrepid stroll out side by side discussing the possibility of finding a local eatery. It is not because they are currently hungry, but rather because they continue to have the hope of being hungry, the hope of finding fulfillment.

As Epicure attempts to leave the building, the doors grow jagged teeth and practically split her in half. She rises from the ground and pushes herself back together, but you just know that, like her tongue, it would never completely grow back and so her halves behave like serpentine memories and slither into the sewer grates like so many broken-home tongues before her. In the distance, a frantic, naked male human could be seen, spear in hand, hunting down the setting sun. Will he ever accomplish his goal and overcome this fertile predator? Does it matter? He goes on…in hope.

Disclaimer: All ATS member names that have been used in this short story are done so with the approval of those individuals. However the created personalities of said characters in no way represent any person living, deceased or reanimated.

[edit on 16-6-2004 by Jonna]

posted on Jun, 15 2004 @ 08:54 PM
How I Learned To Overcome Cannibalism is the second short story in this warped trilogy (see Lifeline & The Cleansing). I felt as though most of the futuristic stories I had read in this competition have been quite morose and apocalyptic. Perhaps that is because of the current state of our world, but this story is an attempt at injecting some mindlessly, sick humor into it all. What else would you expect from the likes of me!?!

I don’t know if anyone picked up on this, but the story itself was based on my own twisted version of the movie The Breakfast Club. Each character matches up with a character in that movie. Strangely enough, I had not realized I was being subconsciously influenced by that movie until the end of my story. Five troubled individuals that come together through their differences by the end of the tale and a ‘counselor’ who keeps them checked and balanced. If you are wondering about the Narrator, he was the know-it-all janitor that cleaned up everyone’s garbage. What can I say? I love the seemingly nonsensical absurdity of it all, but you and I know that it is all ultimately connected, that there is a method to my madness.

Again I have to give praise to my girlfriend for the editing. Before she worked on this, I was the only one that could decipher the drunken characters, images scribbled in monkey feces and innate schizophrenic ramblings.

posted on Jun, 16 2004 @ 02:21 PM
I wish to complain in the strongest possible terms, Mr. Jonna. According to my official "Sci-Fi Geek's Guide To Everything", you are in flagrant contravention of the Trilogy Law, namely:

2.3.iv The second part of a trilogy shall be slightly inferior to the third part, but vastly inferior to the first part. See Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, Indiana Jones, et al.

And now here you are, flaunting off your excellent second story. Bah, I say. Bah!

Outstanding work, as ever. I suspect that you will one day be extremely wealthy - or your analyst will, one of the two

But more to the point, who are you calling "morose and apocalyptic"?

posted on Jun, 16 2004 @ 02:48 PM

Originally posted by StrangeLands
Outstanding work, as ever. I suspect that you will one day be extremely wealthy - or your analyst will, one of the two

HA! Thanks for the kind words. But if you think that those characters are strange just wait for the next story. I came up with the funniest idea last night. His name is LB and he is a mercinary. He's the worlds most renoun master of disquise and he can change his facial appearance at will.

Did I mention that he has a Light Bright toy as a head?

So I made Parrhesia a bit of a dominatrix, intrepid an android with a compulsion to air-guitar and Shugo a 'Hi-five' junkie. I wonder who is going to bitch slap me first?

posted on Jun, 16 2004 @ 02:50 PM
Jonna, you can really spin a tale. Can hardly wait for the next part. Nice work.

posted on Jun, 16 2004 @ 03:24 PM
i am so glad you decided to try this writing thing again

well written and an excellent addition to the first, looking forward to the next part.

the dark humor, sick futuristic scenarios really good stuff

posted on Jun, 16 2004 @ 03:58 PM
Thanks much intrepid & worldwatcher. It feels quite nice to have my work apprechiated as well as it is uplifting to be creative in my favorite medium again.

posted on Jun, 16 2004 @ 05:09 PM
Jonna that is the I hope other feel the same. Good job.

posted on Jun, 17 2004 @ 12:38 AM
it was a nice story, i hope i have enough time to get a chance to read the other ones.

Only question is, "what is up with Epicure?" I didn't get the whole thing where she falls apart and all...maybe thats just me, and having to possibly do with the fact i havent seen the breakfast club?

Keep up the good work though!


posted on Jun, 17 2004 @ 12:39 AM
I am so glad that you are writing and posting here and I also hope that this will not be the last. I am really looking forward for MORE. A wonderful gift you have and thank you for sharing it with us.

posted on Jun, 17 2004 @ 09:33 AM
Duke_Nukem, pineappleupsidedown and SpittinCobra thanks as your praise is much apprechiated. One story in The Trilogy left and it is working up to be a real blood bath.

pineappleupsidedown-> As for your question about Epicure, the character started out as simply for dark humor, but, as you will see in the afterword of the last story, it turned into much more concerning the hidden meaning of all three stories.

As for the joke of the character Epicure. Here is the actual definition of the word.

Main Entry: ep·i·cure
Pronunciation: 'e-pi-"kyur
Function: noun
Etymology: Epicurus
1 archaic : one devoted to sensual pleasure
2 : one with sensitive and discriminating tastes especially in food or wine
synonyms EPICURE, GOURMET, GOURMAND, GASTRONOME mean one who takes pleasure in eating and drinking. EPICURE implies fastidiousness and voluptuousness of taste. GOURMET implies being a connoisseur in food and drink and the discriminating enjoyment of them. GOURMAND implies a hearty appetite for good food and drink, not without discernment, but with less than a gourmet's. GASTRONOME implies that one has studied extensively the history and rituals of haute cuisine.

Get it? The word is new to me as well; I stumbled across it while searching for a synonym for gluttonous and thought that it would be a good name for the character. The joke could be talken in two ways. First as ironicly that an individual "one devoted to sensual pleasure " can not even taste food because of the lack of a tongue. The second way is that the individual is such a food glutton that they consume everything including their own tongue.

At least that is the only reason that I am exposing until the last story's Afterword.

posted on Jun, 19 2004 @ 12:18 AM
Again, mad props for the excellent story. I loved the mindless, sick and absurd humor, and the weird and twisted story. You sure have a lot of imagination, and lots of brilliant idea. Don't spoil that wonderfull talent, looking foward for the next story !

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