Mulligan [DEC 2013]

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posted on Dec, 8 2013 @ 08:58 PM
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MULLIGAN

We have made a mess of the Earth. The seven colonies that left here have failed to communicate after they passed beyond the event horizon; perhaps there is some magnetic or SHRO-gammetic influence that prevents their reports. All we know is that on Octembril 42, 4721, scheduled transmissions stopped. Sciolla-22 explained it all away as though she anticipated the silence – I watch the NX several times. She thought that there were spacial variances after MIX-drive that “tended to perturb normal space-time communications”. Well. It sounded like so much smozz-wizz to me, but I went through the motions, did My Duty. Not my problem. Yet.

I filed my reports, and took two caps to tide me over until I could get a proper meal later. It had been a long day. I was smozz-tired, and longed for my refreshment dock. I had zipped a quick message to Family; they knew to expect me late. Seventh rotation was online, and I was out until 37:22.
Later, slouching in the Worm seat, as I watched the agriculture tunnels slide by, link after link, I wondered how long the Weld could keep the tunnels churning……. Zist! Even keeping the tunnels lighted was becoming an ever-increasing difficulty. We were dying, right on schedule. The Symmetrists must be rejoicing now. Never have understood their dogma, but I guess I’m glad somebody is happy to be watching the spiral down to Critical.

The Worm rotated me up, over and around the breakaway and my tube slid to a stop outside of my cove. I couldn’t wait to soak in a trough. After killfast, Coouren kindly shuffled the kiz away to allow me to ponder while soaking in Green. I felt guilty for being gone so often and leaving the rearing of our kiz to the NX and Coouren. She was class III, and very capable, but as I soaked, I wondered again as I often do, how life must have been for our ancestors. Were we better off, or just more easily controlled? Those were thoughts I didn’t voice out loud. Coouren was royalty, which gave us a higher place in the cove, but were the benefits enough? Moreover, did my efforts make a difference, or just make a living? Was this life? The itching on my chest was back, and I sunk below the level of the Green to let it soak in. Very few could even afford the Green, but perhaps they didn’t need its benefits. It was hard to tell, since the Royal Decree of Separation came about. I don’t ask any more. I don’t want to go to darkness and work like a slave.

“I want you to keep a journal,” Coouren said to me that shift, holding me in her arms,
“keep a P-ring and talk to me on your voyage. If you cannot return, at least your kiz
will know what their Pa has done to save the world.”
“Coo, we have been over this,” I said, “it’s not allowed. I can only keep a formal ZX record.”
I turned away, my leg sliding away from hers. I hated this conversation.
She knows the pressure I am under. If I were caught making a Pring, they might leave me there. Intentionally.

Later, as I watched out the dome at the pipps, floating around the Sonna tree, lighting it with blue and red as they did their ritual dance, I wondered if a legacy was worth the risk. It had never been done, at least as far as Vortifix history was concerned. It was common knowledge that the flip was a one-way trip. Only the upper tier knew that a programmed return flip was possible, albeit extremely costly in resources. Throughout the night, I struggled with my conscience. Certainly the youth selected for the flip where well-trained, skilled and bio-suited for the mission – they were even excited to strike out and save our species. I and three other Factors were going to be return flipped, once the wave variance had been measured and modulated forward. It was an enormous weight to carry – the responsibility of 18 quadrillion souls.

I awakened early and padded to the zowol for nourishment and water. The water rationing was on, but I took my full share, as was allotted me and my kith, and others of the upper tier. I could bathe in pure water if I wanted to. It was obscene to consider. Pa would be ashamed of the wealth we were afforded. He lived and died a Sonnist – Keeper of the Trees, and to his last day wished me to follow in his footsteps.
I’m sorry Pa. I’m sorry I didn’t have your insight or strength. I’m sorry most of all for not protecting you. You didn’t deserve to be Darked. May Zist forgive me. No help in thinking about that now. I had work to do.

I spent the next 27 days, quantifying and searching the strings of the Vortifix, seeking out drop zones that weren’t conflicting with nexus points. As it turned out, there were very few blend points. Two, to be exact. We had all hoped for more, because it was the original intention to spread our influence across the ages of our past, and in that way gradually influence events to culminate in a future that didn’t end with a wimper. We intended to flip well prior to the emergence of modern humanity, and thus adjust cultural norms to avoid the Great Conflicts as well as the starvation that now faced all of us.

Two points. Disappointing. Disheartening. Worse yet, the points were 1,327.74 years apart. Could the first group survive long enough to be shored up by the second? The Maker of Odds said yes, to the tune of 81.2736674 percent favorable variance.

Oh my Yscottlund, you green and foggy bog with your craggy highlands and furrows of yarrow and heather. How fortunate we have been to be allowed to live for these six years in the Preserve. I imagined my ancient ancestors, walking these narrow game trails, breathing a similar musk of Cloudberry. I imagine that the delicate flowers must be nearly the same as my ancestors enjoyed, because it was one of the few plants to survive the Great Freeze. I have 16 levins of jam made from Cloudberry in my secure, awaiting the pivotal moment to consume it or sell it. My cousin lost her life for that jam, as well as six others. I alone survived. I could purchase a new house and transport for all of us for the value of that jam. It is priceless. Before the Great Freeze, our ancestors treasured Cloudberry for its lifesaving vitamin C. We have come a long way.

What a shame we could not see that we were systematically consuming everything. The breakpoint is near, or so the talkers on the NX proclaim. I assume it’s true. I can’t imagine the elders of the upper tier would contemplate such a radical solution as the flip if they weren’t sure that we are dying. I think even if we were in contact with the colonies, we would still want this one chance to survive on the home planet. Earth. Our blue love, the heart of all that is our history. May Zith protect the colonies, keep them safe, and let them reach their goals. We will probably never know. It gives me comfort to imagine them arriving at the destination planets, eyes full of wonder, emerging to begin life anew.

(continued)




posted on Dec, 8 2013 @ 09:01 PM
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part 2 - Mulligan


Novay 13, 4721: 137:11
I hope I don’t get sick; my guts are rolling, and I had almost no sleep last shift. I said goodbye to my kiz and said to Coouren: “When they reach 11, name them for your kith with numbers from mine. I had hoped to be here still, but it’s not to be. I will return to you.” Coouren bumped her forehead to mine and I felt my knees weaken with desire for her. “Safety-love,” she said, holding me. “Love-trust,” I countered, just as we did when we were courting.

I didn’t look back as I slid into the Worm-tube. I couldn’t. It took every bit of my resolve to hold my face still as my tube joined with the others headed for LAB-4. None of us looked at each other. We were all struggling.

“This is it, old boy,” Crix said as we walked down the ramp to the airlocks. “It appears so,” I said, wearing my bravado like a sim-cape.


Novay 14, 4721: 22:18

In a moment, our measure of time will end. The first group has already flipped. Only seven didn’t survive – a new record! Their kith will be rewarded with +14 benefit, for as long as the Weld can provide it. We will emerge – Zith willing – 1327.74 years later than their drop zone. If all has gone as planned, many of their kith will be there to greet us. The energy necessary to flip all 7 quadrillion of us and our supplies is profound. The weight of that knowledge is great, as we all know that trillions on Earth will die, sacrificing their resources to power our flip. We don’t talk about it, and I’m grateful that Crix doesn’t joke about it. I am so coiled, I think I would kill him if he did. I guess he knows that.
There was a vibration and a blinding flash seen even behind our shielded helmets. Then blackness as time stretched infinitely, snapping back like the stems of a Zeum Tree.


Unknown Coordinants

I hope we have emerged at the indexed time. There really is no way to tell, and if I didn’t have the knowledge that I’m to be recalled in 121 days, I think I might go mad. We watched and studied, but how could we know how strange the Earth of this time would be? Every species is in a struggle for life and death. The previous group is nowhere to be found. We’ve sent out 125 groups of 1,000 to search for them. For now, we wait and conserve our resources. I feel low. I miss Coouren, and it feels strange to know that she doesn’t exist in this time. The air makes us all cough, rich with Nitrogen and other gasses. We’ll adapt. My chest is itching again. I hate the distraction of it, however it makes me feel somehow connected to Coouren and the kiz, as if by a tether of time, stretching through the ages.


Day 7 142:16

The Sun is SO bright and hot. I think sometimes that we won’t survive it, and yet we do. 94 of the groups returned, with no good news other than their attrition was less than seven percent. What could have happened to the first flip group? They would have been here if they could have. Either (p) they didn’t survive, (#) they we prevented from mobilizing at these coordinants, (a) we didn’t emerge at the designated coordinants or (*) everything is fouled up. The next wave of groups will go twice as far, while the core will move 177 links north toward where we believe is the core of this time.


Day 51 11:71

We have made contact! Group Blue-17 have found the descendants of the first flip. They are stationed in a wide-ranging zone 2652 links from our present location. Initial reports are somewhat disturbing; I want to see this for myself to properly assess the situation. Apparently, the first contactees were entirely unclothed, and were far beyond the AC protocol of aggressiveness. 127,000 of our own were killed. I’m afraid I know what has happened, but will refrain from discussing it until we get there. I have only 70 days to survive before I am flipped back. I thought I’d feel guilty to leave the core. Not so much. I just want to live and go home. Long ago, that was called a Mulligan. A do-over. I want that. Soon.


Day 97 don’t know the intervals, lost my temcom

Insufferable world. Giant lizards prey upon our numbers. Other creatures. We have made a great mistake. I want to go home. I WANT to go home! How long do I have? I know I’m going home. We walk all day long. Our supplies are very low, but we’ve found three plants that nourish us with a delicious elixir. It is ambrosia, and we all feel revived. Most of us have discarded our tunics. It’s just that hot. I think sometimes that my helmet makes my head boil, and I take it off, but then realize that it is protecting me from the unrelenting Sun. My feet hurt. Everything hurts. Only a few more days. I think. I want to see………… Oh dear Zith, I can’t………… I can’t remember her name, but I see her face. When we get to the meeting place, we will rest and we’ll all be okay again.


Dday. Itsa day long day gone passt last. cannot think the sun the rain is it ever going to end. push this button and voke. voke and walk walk and voke.. everybody spreading out, foraging. Smell them. Everybody leaving a trail, easy to follow. Going to follow this one over here, smells like food. Need food. Queen needs food most of all. Not going home. Not me anymore.

Feel stronger. Protect her. Protect the queen. Led a group into the white mountain to get food and water. There was plenty to share but the big creatures saw and covered us with a killing liquid. Toousands died. doesn’t matter. I will say this in case any others find us or this ………… this ring I talk. The flip… you don’t get to keep yourself.

Loose it little bit by bit every day. You find us, you go back or get stuck here with us. Radiation. No help for it. Kills brain. Everything is big. Bigger than us. The big ones scream with joy when they kill us. Call us AAANTZ. Is that what we are do not know. Hungry. Goodbye ring. Too heavy to carry you. Tell her I love tell her I love

edit on 8/12/13 by argentus because: paragraphs are my friend!



posted on Dec, 10 2013 @ 06:58 PM
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reply to post by argentus
 

Nicely done! They are so organized and protective of their kind, it is easier to believe they are sentient than they aren't.



posted on Dec, 10 2013 @ 07:40 PM
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reply to post by argentus
 


Well done!

S&F



posted on Dec, 29 2013 @ 01:39 PM
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reply to post by argentus
 


Creative and crazy as always! I love reading your stories!





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