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Index for Logs 001-030
Sfstory Log 004
Appended 14:21 on 06/19/87 by Jeff Smith:
Omegas swore. He swore at the ground he walked upon, he swore at the
sky he walked beneath, he swore at the sun shining down on him, but most
of all he swore at the ship he had destroyed and it's unlucky occupant.
After half an hour or so of emphatic obscenities, Omegas regaied his
composure, and, giving the Italian Salute to the crater that he had
caused, teleported away from the Earth.
Omegas materialized in the shadow of the massive Pearly Gates.
their opalescent immensity towering over him, and dwarfing him beneath
their magnificent splendor.
"Wow.", said Omegas. He said that every time he came here, as did
everyone else. It was probably physically impossible to behold the
Pearly Gates and not say "Wow.", just as it is impossible to pass a
a wall with a "Wet Paint" sign hung on it and not touch the wall, just
"to make sure."
Omegas said "Wow." once more, and tore his attention away from the
Gates. He glanced over the scene in front of him, looking for St.
Peter. Oddly enough, he was nowhere to be seen and The Book was lying
open on his golden podium. Omegas stepped down from his hiding place,
and looked around once more. Still no St. Peter.
"Hmmn.", thought Omegas.
"Yo! Pete, my man!", yelled Omegas. If he was here, he would come
out; he hated being called "Pete". However, he did not show up, or
scream back at Omegas, or anything else that Omegas was accustomed
to him doing when someone called him "Pete.", leading Omegas to the
conclusion that he wasn't here.
"Weird, man.", mumbled Omegas to himself.
However, he did not trouble himself about the weirdness of the
situation, and walked over to The Book.
After a few short minutes, Omegas had changed history once again,
this time to read that the shield had collapsed, but instead of
destroying the ship, it merely disabled it's engines. Satisfied that
his changes had caused no serious repercussions in the Web of Time,
Omegas teleported back to Central Park.
Bubba regained consciousness and rose hesitantly to his feet. He
staggered a little, and, with an echoing crash, fell back to the floor
from whence he came.
Several hours later, Bubba was awakened by someone savagely kicking
the side of his head. Due to the outstanding headache he already
possessed, this abuse went relatively unnoticed. Eventually the kicking
"Do you think he's dead?", asked a voice from above Bubba.
"I dunno.", replied another voice.
"Kick him some more and see.", said a third voice.
This last comment woke Bubba out of his painful stupor, and with
a groan, he rose waveringly to his feet.
"I'm not dead.", stated Bubba defiantly, two seconds before the
floor rose up to meet his face.
"Thump.", said Bubba's face as it gained, for the third time, an
intimate knowledge of the wood from which the floor was constructed.
Bubba swam up from the soft, dark depths of unconsciousness and
entered the real world. His eyelids fluttered open, and his eyes found
themselves staring at a white ceiling, interrupted only by a bright
fluorescent light fixture. Bubba pondered the light bulb for several
minutes until he realized, with a flash of relief, that his headache
"Great!", said Bubba outloud to no-one in particular.
"Excuse me?", replied a mechanical voice to his left.
Bubba sat up in the bed that he had been lying in, and faced the
direction from which the voice had come. He saw standing next to his
bed a five-foot tall metal humanoid, staring at him with two glowing
"Who are you?", asked Bubba.
"I am a Medical Service-Bot.", replied the Medical Service-Bot.
"Where am I?", asked Bubba.
"In bed.", replied the robot.
"Where is this room?", asked Bubba after a moment of thought.
"In the Starship 'Disposer'.", replied the robot.
"What is the Starship 'Disposer'?", asked Bubba.
"It is a starship designed to transport hazardous and toxic
materials away from inhabited planets to a black hole, where they are
"Neat.", said Bubba, "How do I leave?"
"You may not leave. You have not undergone a thorough medical
check-up. Remain in bed.", stated the robot with an air of authority.
"Think again, my metal friend.", said Bubba as he rose from the
bed. He hopped down onto the floor and strided toward the door on the
far wall. While he stood in front of it, searching for a doorknob, the
robot glided silently up behind him.
"Return to bed.", commanded the robot.
"Sod off.", said Bubba as he intensified his search for something to
open the door.
"Return to bed.", ordered the robot again.
"Eat my shorts.", said Bubba. He finally found a square panel of
glass with a representation of a handprint on it next to the door.
Assuming that this must be some type of space-doorknob, he placed
his hand upon it. However, nothing happened.
"Return to bed.", said the robot.
"You know, robot, ", said Bubba as he turned to face the Medical
Service-bot in question, "you have the bad habit of repeating
"Return to bed.", repeated the robot.
Suddenly, Bubba was seized by the insightful, and attractive, idea
of battering the door open with the robot's head. So, grasping the
Service-bot firmly by its shoulders, Bubba picked it up off the floor,
and proceeded to pummel its cranium against the closed door.
"Return to bed.", said the robot.
"Smash.", said its head as it hit the door.
"Return to bed.", said the robot again.
"Smash.", said its head again.
"Return.. to.. bed.", sputtered the robot.
"Smash.", said its head for the last time, as the thin metal casing
surrounding the robots electronic brain split along its seams, releasing
several cups of motor oil and a lump of spongy metal that was the
After several joyful minutes of whacking the robot's inert form
against the door in front of him, the metal portal finally slid into
its slot in the wall with a thin mechanical whine.
"Great.", said Bubba as he stepped out into the corridor beyond.
Was it really "great"?
Was it merely "good"?
Was it only "passable"?
What will happen to Omegas in Central Park?
What will happen to Doctor Von Spleen?
What will happen to Bubba?
To find out the answers to all these and more brain-tickling questions,
read the next thrilling installment of SFSTORY CSNOTICE!
***** Entry appended 14:21 on Fri, 06/19/87 by RPS385 at MAINE # 040 *****
Appended 18:26 on 06/22/87 by Jeff Smith:
* Gargavix Oolavant's Pocket Guide to *
* The Space Time Continuum states that *
* the Starship Disposer was the first *
* of the Great Garbage Scows. *
* Constructed from eight-foot thick *
* plates of Triple-Hardened Mega-Steel, *
* the Scows were intended to bring the *
* galaxy's most toxic substances to *
* nearby black holes and dump it there, *
* supposedly ending the universe's *
* problems. Unfortunatly for this plan, *
* however, it was soon discovered that *
* the toxins were randomly appearing *
* in concentrated pockets throughout *
* the galaxy, leading scientists to *
* believe that the black holes didn't *
* want the stuff either, and were *
* "puking" it forth through gaps in the *
* space-time continuum. This "vomit" *
* theory remained popular for several *
* years until, due to the regurgitation *
* of a particularly potent batch of *
* chemicals, a small star cluster was *
* rendered uninhabitable and the *
* dumping was halted, making all *
* theories dealing with the appearance *
* of the "celestial spew" moot. *
The Starship Disposer cut silently through the utter blackness of
space that surrounded it. If one was outside the ship, which one
wouldn't be, since any living thing within several light years would be
instantly zapped out of existance by the phalanx of escort ships that
were protecting the Starship, one would notice how much the ship
resembled a gigantic safety-pin, fastened to a rather boxy and
inefficient-looking gray container. This container was the special
hold used to transport the deadly materials, and the part that would
be detached, and sent spiraling into the black-hole to be crushed into
infinitely dense matter, that somewhat resembled very old Spam.
* Gargavix Oolavant's Pocket Guide to *
* the Space-Time Continuum states that *
* the uncanny, and slightly suspicious, *
* resemblance of ultra-dense material *
* to very old Spam was noted by many *
* scientists studying the "galactic *
* puke" theory. After much testing, it *
* was finally determined that the black *
* hole-annihilated matter was almost *
* chemically identical to Spam that had *
* been aged for between three and five *
* years. This startling discovery *
* caused, understandably, an uproar in *
* the scientific and meat-processing *
* communities which led to the further *
* discovery that if Spam was dropped *
* into a black hole, it would cause *
* that black hole to transmute itself *
* into either a set of mock-naugahyde *
* luggage, or three dozen VIC-20's. *
* This last finding resulted in a great *
* deal of chuckling and the ridicule of *
* the scientists involved. It also *
* spurned the the writing of many jokes *
* concerning the parentage of the *
* responsible scientists, most of which *
* were either anatomically impossible *
* or very nearly so. *
As the ship slowly and inexorablly approached the black hole, the
squadron of escort ships slowly dissipated, in fear that their small
engines would not be sufficient to pull them from the ever-increasing
gravitational tug from the approaching dead star. One by one they
abandoned the ship, until, within three Schwatrzchild Radii of the
singularity, the last one shot off into the distance, leaving the
giant ship alone in interstellar space.
"That's the last of them.", said Pilot Elbo to the squat, green
alien at his left, an inhabitant of the planet Boonrapper XII.
"Plof.", said the alien. This roughly translates into "Good, now we
can dump the toxins and get home. Do you know what time it is?"
* Gargavix Oolavant's Pocket Guide To *
* The Creatures of the Cosmos states *
* that the language of the denizens of *
* the small planet of Boonrapper XII *
* possess easily to the most esoteric *
* and enunciation-dependant languages *
* in the galaxy. In fact, the unlucky *
* inhabitants of Boonrapper usually *
* cannot talk until the age of 63. *
* Fortunatly for the Boonrappers, the *
* average lifespan is well over 150, so *
* they still have plenty of time to *
* have highly intelligent, albeit *
* brief, conversations. *
* The first alien to attempt learning *
* the native tongue of Boonrapper XII *
* was the famed linguist and cat- *
* -fancier Roncoddle Macdwerp from the *
* planet Voit VIII. After intensive *
* study under a Boonrapper native for *
* eighty years, Roncoddle finally *
* gained mastery of the language. *
* However, before he could utter a *
* single syllable, a blot clot was *
* released in his body, which quickly *
* traveled to his heart and killed him *
* within seconds. Fortunatly, within *
* this time, he was able to negotiate a *
* clever and highly advantageous treaty *
* with the Boonrapper government that *
* led to increased economic prosperity *
* for both parties, and ultimately a *
* Voit-Boonrapper alliance that lasted *
* for well over three thousand years. *
"It's 14:32.", said the pilot in response to the question, "28 more
minutes until the drop."
"Op.", said the Boonrapper. This translated into "God, I need about
a week of sleep and a really good lay. When we get home, how about
you and me go cruising for some babes. Maybe we'll get lucky, right?"
(From now on, to expedite matters, a translation will provided instead
of the original Boonrappian)
"Good idea.", said Pilot Elbo with a smile. Suddenly, a bright
red light lit itself on a panel. Pilot Elbo typed a short line into
the computer, and frowned at the result.
"It says that we have an intruder on the Medical Level.", he said
after some thought.
"Send down a security robot, and if there is no intruder, send a
repair-bot.", replied the Boonrapper. (Who's name, incidently is "Glop",
which translates into "A small native of Boonrapper who will, most
likely, one day face sexual confusion.")
"Good idea, Glop.", said the Pilot, and he entered the command into
Was it a good idea?
Will Glop face sexual confusion?
Will Pilot Elbo face sexual confusion?
Will they face it together?
To find out all the answers to these questions, read the next edition of
***** Entry appended 18:26 on Mon, 06/22/87 by RPS385 at MAINE # 041 *****
Appended 16:33 on 06/23/87 by Jeff Smith:
Pilot Elbo typed in the short command that gave him access to the
main security computer. After a few seconds of typing and consulting
the large code manual to his right, he switched on a monitor above his
"This should allow us to see what the Security-Bot sees.", explained
"Good.", said Glop.
Multicolored static swam across the screen until, with a flash of
bright horizontal bars, an image coalesced out of the haze. It was a
view of a long hallway punctuated periodically by doors. The image
panned slowly and smoothly down the corridor, pausing at each door to
check if it had been opened recently. After reaching the end of the
hallway, the image entered a door, and was engulfed in darkness.
"Elevator.", explained Elbo.
After a few seconds, the door opened up again, revealing another
long corridor, much like the one that had been left moments earlier.
This time, however, the search was not fruitless, and it soon revealed
a broken-down door with a small red light blinking above it.
Pilot Elbo typed in a few commands, and the screen panned across
the room beyond the doorway without entering it. It revealed a small
clinic containing a bed and a pile of battered metal lying on the
"That must be the Medical-Bot that signaled the intruder alert.",
said Elbo. He bent again over his terminal and typed in another
command. Suddenly the monitor screen turned dark blue, except for
scattered patches of yellow orange, and red. It was, evidently, an
"Now we can track the intruder by his body-heat.", observed Glop.
"Exactly.", replied Elbo.
The image panned out of the room, and scanned down the corridor.
There, on the floor, as plain as day, were a set of red footprints
leading down the hall into the distance.
"His ass is ours.", said Elbo with an evil leer.
Bubba ran down the corridor as fast as he could. He realized that
there wasn't much time until whoever controlled this ship realized that
he had broken one of their robots. He knew that was probably only a
matter of minutes, so he had to make tracks.
He ran down the corridor, and came to an elevator. He leaped inside
and punched the button furthest down on the key-pad. Several seconds
later, the doors slid open to reveal a short corridor leading to a
single large door. The hallway was bathed in red light, but Bubba paid
this no heed. He ran down to the door and spun the wheel on it's
face. Nothing happened.
He looked around for a numerical pad or something similar. After
a brief search, he discovered a small, rectangular slot, about the
thickness of a playing car, in the left wall. Being from America, the
land of automatic bank-tellers and other such wonders, he instantly
recognized this as a passcard slot.
With a chuckle of the type that one chuckles when one has no choice
in the matter that decides one's life and the choice you are forced to
make might just, by some unfathomable quirk of nature, save that very
life which is in jeopardy, Bubba pulled out his Texaco credit-card from
his wallet, and inserted it into the slot.
With a soft "Woosh", and a slight draft of musty air, the great
airlock in front of Bubba slid open, revealing a long corridor,
stretching out into the distance, out of sight.
Bubba laughed again, and stepped beyond the airlock, which gently
closed behind him. He braced himself for the long walk ahead, and set
off down the hall.
However, before he could walk more than a pace or two, he suddenly
was wisked off his feet, and shot down the corridor with mind-boggling
speed. He was, frankly speaking, scared shitless, which was a lucky
thing, for it he had not been de-shittified in this manner, he would
undoubtedly have soiled himself in surprise.
After several minutes of high-speed coasting, Bubba's ride came to
an abrupt end when he hit the far wall. He picked himself off the
floor, shook his dazed head, and looked back over his shoulder. The
hallway, which must have been at least a mile long, stretched backwards
into the darkness.
"Wow.", said Bubba, "They should have that at Disneyworld."
With this astute comment under his belt, Bubba advanced toward the
door that his face had already become acquainted with, and inserted his
Texaco card into the twin slot of the one he had encountered earlier.
"The robot has tracked him into Elevator D.", said Elbo to Glop,
who was eating the Boonrapper equivalent of pizza.
"Mnffg hrntn smnn.", replied Glop.
(No, this is *not* a dialect of Boonrapper, or a strange, hitherto
undiscovered hereditary language that had lain dormant in Glop's
subconscious until, by chance, the series of syllables uttered by
Pilot Elbo set his stored knowledge free in a cascade of understanding
and wonder; he simply had his mouth full.)
The security robot panned its vision circuits down the elevator
buttons, looking for the one that had been touched. It found it, and
pressed it likewise, continuing its relentless search for the intruder.
"You can call of the search now.", said Glop, his mouth no longer
full, "if he's gone *there*, he's a dead man."
"Undoubtedly, but we have to make sure.", replied Elbo as he returned
his gaze to the monitor screen.
The door swished softly open and Bubba stepped through into a
darkened room. He fumbled around on the walls near the door, looking for
a light switch and , finding one, he pushed it.
Long parallel rows of fluorescent bulbs sputtered into life with
flashes of blue radiance, illuminating the room in which Bubba stood
from hidden fixtures far above him.
He was standing in a long, narrow corridor, barely ten feet wide,
but over four stories in height. The walls of the hallway seemed to
be made from huge panels of metal, painted in battleship-grey, each
with a block of writing at head-level in it's center.
Bubba walked over to the nearest panel, and read this block of
text. It said:
WARNING! This storage facility contains seven
hundred kilograms of Mass-Iv-Kill Nerve Gas.
If this bunker is breached, all airlocks will
be automatically sealed. See below for procedure
if exposed to contents.
"Hmmn..", said Bubba to himself as he crouched down to read the small
print beneath the larger block of text.
Procedure if exposed to Mass-Iv-Kill Gas:
1) Proceed in the direction of the nearest
2) Take a left to enter chapel.
3) Make peace with your creator.
"That's rather grim.", thought Bubba as he stood back up.
Pondering what he had got himself into, he strolled down the hallway,
occasionally reading the blocks of descriptive text telling of the
bunkers' contents. As he passed three bunkers of ultra-high level
radioactive waste from the Altair Hyper-Breeder Mega-Reactor, two
bunkers of Gamma-active mutagen, and four bunkers of Plen-T-Bad
Radiation compound, he got the vague, dim, almost half-formed feeling
that he had better leave.
Bubba calmly ran screaming down the hallway, frantically looking
for an airlock through which to exit. He skidded to a stop in front
of the one he had used earlier, and punched the "Door Open" key. The
airlock swished open, Bubba walked through, and it closed silently behind
He stepped forward, ready to enter the transport field again, when
a boxy object, far off in the distance of the corridor before him,
caught his eye. He squinted at it and, as it rapidly approached, he
realized that it was some kind of robot, and that it was *big*. He
turned to re-open the airlock behind him, but the wallet containing the
card slipped from his sweaty fingers, dropping into the transport
field behind him.
With a sharp whine, the wallet took off down the corridor at the
same mind-wrenching speed that Bubba had attained earlier. Before he
knew what had happened, the wallet met the robot travelling in the
"Whack!", said the wallet.
"Ba-boom.", said the robot.
With a nerve-wracking explosion of light and sound, the robot
disintegrated into hundreds of small fragments which scattered up and
down the corridor.
"Crash, tinkle, tinkle.", said the pieces of the robot.
"Clunk.", said Bubba's jaw as it hit the floor in surprise.
Shrapnel of the destroyed Security-Bot shot down the hallway and
imbeded themselves into the wall behind Bubba. A large cloud of smoke
drifted lazily along the ceiling of the corridor toward Bubba. When
it finally reached him, the noxious smell of burnt plastic and leather
snapped him out of his near-comatose stupor of surprise, and he stepped
into the transport field.
"I meant to do that.", said Bubba to no-one as he shot down the
Did Bubba mean to do that?
Was the wallet totally destroyed?
Was the Texaco credit-card destroyed?
What will Pilot Elbo and Glop do?
What will Bubba do?
When is Andy going to append to SFSTORY again?
To find out all the 'nad pumping answers to these questions, tune in for
the next edition of SFSTORY CSNOTICE.
***** Entry appended 16:33 on Tue, 06/23/87 by RPS385 at MAINE # 042 *****
Appended 09:41 on 06/25/87 by Jeff Smith:
Pilot Elbo watched as the picture on the monitor screen resolved
itself into a normal-light image of the Express-Hallway. He adjusted a
small control on the panel in front of him, and the image coasted
forward again, entering into the transport field. The walls shot by
the perimeter of the screen in a blinding display of speed, and Elbo
relaxed back into his chair.
"I think we've got him now.", said Elbo to Glop.
"Definitely.", replied Glop confidantly.
The image was swiftly panning along the Express-Hallway when
suddenly, a streak of brown appeared in the center of the screen,
followed by a brilliant flash of light. The monitor screen filled
with multi-colored static.
"What the hell?", muttered Pilot Elbo as he straightened from
his chair, and tried to adjust the monitor screen.
"It looks like we lost transmition, Elbo.", said Glop.
Elbo typed furiously at his keyboard for a few seconds, but the
screen still remained static-filled.
"Shit.", said Elbo, "The robot's been destroyed."
"What?!?", yelled Glop, leaping up out of his chair in surprise.
"The robot has been destroyed by a high-speed projectile. Or at
least that's what its sensors registered before it got snuffed.",
"A high-speed projectile?", questioned Glop, "Isn't that pretty
"It worked, didn't it?", responded Elbo tersely.
"I think we should break out the munitions, and hunt down the
intruder ourselves.", said Glop.
"Agreed.", said Elbo. He rose from his chair and walked over to
the wall directly behind them. He placed his hand within the
boundaries of a square labeled "Pilot Elbo", and Glop put his
pseudo-pod within the box labeled "Navigator Glop". From the smooth
surface of the wall, a drawer whose edges had not been visible
seconds earlier, slid out. Within it was a foam pad, upon which
rested four evil-looking pistols. Pilot Elbo reached inside the
drawer, pulled out two, and handed one to Glop. They glanced at the
power-gauges on the grips of the pistols and, satisfied, walked out
of the room, the drawer closing behind them.
The strided quickly down the hallway and entered an elevator at
its end. Glop pushed the "Cargo Level" button and the room took
a stomach-turning leap downwards. Several seconds later, the doors
opened, and they stepped out into the red-lit corridor. They walked
to the end, checked the lock to see if it had been used recently, and
opened it with a small red card.
The airlock swished open and Elbo stepped through. He turned to
Glop and spoke.
"Stay here.", he said, "If they come out, shoot to kill. Understood?"
Elbo closed the door behind him, and stepped into the transport
field. He crouched low to the ground and in the dim light, he was
barely visible. He swiftly approached the opposite end of the hallway,
but he had seen no sign of the intruder. Getting suspicious, he rose
from his crouch and looked around. Suddenly, he felt his footing go
out from underneath him, and, with the smell of motor oil in his
nostrils, sanded his head off on the wall of the Express-Hallway.
Seconds later, his remains heaved out onto the floor in front of
Bubba, who was tying his shoe. In mute and heart-felt symbol of
mourning, Bubba emptied his stomach out onto the floor by the body.
Having completed this little rite of sadness, he wiped his mouth,
paused to salvage the pistol, and leaped into the transport field.
As he contemplated the body that had so recently flown by him,
he realized that there probably was someone else on the ship, and that
they might not be as stupid. He tightened his grip on the pistol,
and braced himself for what he might see as he rounded the curve of
the corridor walls ahead.
Seconds later, he dismounted from the Express-Hallway and looked
around for any other people. Seeing none, he pressed the "Door Open"
key on the airlock, and waited as it quietly slid into the wall-recess.
Suddenly, from behind the door came a blast of radiation, searing
and burning the wall above Bubba. In a reflex of self-preservation,
he dove to the floor, and looked to see what had shot at him. He
saw a squat, green humanoid with flabby, rubber-like limbs, one of
which was grasping a gun like his own. A second shot rang out, burning
a hole in the floor next to Bubba's head.
He rolled to the right, furiously pumping shots out into the
redly-glowing hallway beyond. He heard the sounds of shots striking
metal, but no scream of pain. He waited a few more seconds, and no
more shots came. Cautiously, he stuck his head out around the corner
of the airlock wall, and saw the prone form of the alien sprawled out
on the floor with three steaming holes in its flesh. Bubba rose,
dusted himself off, and advanced on the body.
After a thorough examination of the body, which involved kicking
the deceased creature's head around on his shoulders, Bubba pronounced
him dead, and congratulated himself on his pistol-mastery. As he
rode the elevator up to a higher level, he fleetingly pondered as to
the reason why the alien hadn't screamed when he wasted him.
* Gargavix Oolavant's Pocket Guide to *
* Creatures of the Cosmos says that the *
* reason why Boonrappers do not scream *
* when they die is a result of the *
* sound and inflection-oriented nature *
* of their language. Any monosyllabic *
* utterance most likely has a meaning, *
* and they do not want to offend anyone *
* in their last moments. *
Bubba exited the elevator and, following the signs, soon arrived
upon the bridge. He happily noted that everything seemed to be
automated, and he settled down for a nap.
Even before he had time to close his eyes, a claxon rang out and
messages began to scroll across the control panel screens. Bubba
walked over to the panel, and read the messages.
Automatic waste jettison program initiated.
First stage completed. Second stage started.
Time until jettison: 5 minutes 00 seconds.
As Bubba watched, the numbers flickered and changed, and soon new
Second stage completed. Third stage started.
Time until jettison: 3 minutes 30 seconds.
Bubba, having nothing better to do, sat down in the command chair,
and watched the numerals slowly flick by.
Third stage completed. Final stage started.
Time until jettison: 2 minutes 00 seconds.
Bubba spun around in the chair. When he became dizzy, he refocused
on the now-spinning screen and read the new message there.
Final stage completed.
Time until jettison: 0 minutes 37 seconds.
The seconds ticked slowly by until, when the timer reached "00", a
powerful rumble shook the floor beneath his feet. After the shaking
had ceased a new message appeared.
Time until retro-thrust: 30 seconds.
Bubba focused his attention on the viewscreen to see what was
happening outside. The huge grey box that had been attached to the
rear of the ship had come loose and was slowly drifting in the
direction of a region of intense blackness that lay ahead.
As Bubba watched the box tumble away into oblivion, in the engine
room behind him the massive retro-boosters sprang into life,
accelerating the ship away from the black hole and throwing Bubba from
his seat to collide with the far wall. After his limp body had settled
to the floor, the computer screen cleared and a blinking message in red
Warning! Warning! Warning!
Unidentified ship on intercept course with Starship
Estimated time until within boarding range:
5 minutes 00 seconds
Will Bubba's ship be boarded?
Will the incoming ship destroy the Starship Disposer?
Will the toxic waste turn into Spam?
What will happen to Glop's dead body?
To find out the answers to all these and more questions of deep interest,
read the next edition of SFSTORY CSNOTICE!
***** Entry appended 09:41 on Thu, 06/25/87 by RPS385 at MAINE # 043 *****
Appended 16:17 on 06/25/87 by Andy Robinson:
Subject: The pudding thickens...
St. Peter paced nervously back in forth in front of the television
set in the late Dave's living room. This continuous back-and-forth
movement provided an interesting strobing effect which had totally
mesmerized our hero, Ernst Fluent (EFLUENT at VMVM), who had previously
been engaged in viewing a particularly riveting episode of "All the
Days of Our Children's Lives Tomorrow on the Edge of Night."
Suddenly, St. Peter stopped short, completely blocking the screen.
Ernst, falling out of his trance, looked up at the angel questioningly.
"Do you think it's time, St. Peter?" he asked.
St. Peter looked down at Ernst.
"Call me Pete." he said quietly, "and yes, I think it's time."
"Strange, I never would have thought it" muttered Ernst.
"Thought what?" said St. Peter, "That it's time?"
"No, that you'd let someone call you 'Pete'"
"All my friends call me Pete... I have two of them you know" replied
St. Peter hotly.
"Well I'm quite honored," said Ernst sincerely.
St. Peter scowled at him.
"Oh go on... shut up before I change my mind."
St. Peter paused.
"Where was I?" he said. "Ahh, the book..."
He extended his arms and closed his eyes, and with a flash of light and
a noise resembling that made by an object being sucked into a time
vortex (a sound which Ernst knew well), "the book" appeared in his
hands. This was *the* "the book", and not just the backup copy still
sitting on the later-Dave's recliner.
Meanwhile, back at the Pearly Gates...
Omegas had just finished his alterations to "the book" and was standing
over it, admiring his work. Suddenly, without warning, the book vanished
in a flash of light and loud *pop*.
"Holy SHIT!" exclaimed Omegas. Then he heard, although it had actually
been audible the entire time he was modifying the book, the sound of
many voices. He looked up from the podium to see a line of beings
stretching from right under the gates back as far as he could see. He
stared dumbly for a moment, and then walked in front of the podium. A
small sign hung there, crookedly, which said "Out to Lunch."
"Damn" he exclaimed again, "Witnesses"
Omegas thought for a moment, and decided that there was nothing to do but
send these people back to oblivion for a while -- he couldn't do it
permanently of course, but he could put them out of commission for a
substantial number of eons. He pulled from thin air a Smith & Wesson
15mm Phased-output Energy Weapon with Anti-matter Assist, pointed
it at the line, and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Swearing to
himself again, he released the 15 safety interlocks and prepared to fire
again. Suddenly, one of beings in the crowd shouted:
"You don't look out to lunch to me! I've been here for ages, and
GODDAMN IT, I WANT IN!"
As soon as the word(s) "God Damn" had issued from the speaker's mouth,
Omegas yelled some incomprehensible epithet, dematerialized the weapon,
and then dematerialized himself. He knew only too well what response
that seemingly innocuous combination of phonemes would illicit from the
big guy, and thought grimly to himself "hope the guy who said that likes
However, in his haste to escape the impending wrath of the almighty,
Omegas neglected to set any coordinates for his re-materialization. He
spun through the ether aimlessly. After a few moments he decided to
try his luck and rematerialize. However, he luck was very bad that day,
since he rematerialized in de Sitter space and was instantly crushed to
a point-mass of infinitely dense matter. While this might seem
a very major setback to you or me, it was to Omegas in fact only a
moderate inconvenience. It would only take a few earth-centuries for
him to extract himself from the mess he was in.
Meanwhile, back on Earth...
The large man in the larger black limosine has finally suceeding in
extracting his bulk from underneath the exceeding large, heavy, and
cumbersome tree which had somehow come to fall on his head. His head
throbbed intensely, but being one to have any truck with pain (along
with the fact that his nervous system was not sufficiently advanced to
recgonize it anyway), he didn't notice it. Because of this, he also
failed to notice his skull was split in three directions and his brain,
small as it was, was flopped over one ear, held in place only by his
spinal cord. He also did not notice that several of the more important
supporting structures in his body had been shattered and that from the
outside he looked like a mishapen lump of Silly-Putty (tm) that someone
had dropped in Strawberry Jam.
He ignored these minor injuries and crawled clear of the vehicle,
to rest on the curb next to the compressed limosine. He thought how
lucky he was that he was not dead, but as it turned out, his luck was
not as good as it seemed. Suddenly a point-mass of de Sitter space
appeared next to him for the minutest fraction of a googolplexth of
a second, and he, the limosine, and all matter within a 50 foot
radius were sucked up and compressed by the gravitational forces
generated by the phenomena. The resultant tidal stresses were so great
that the entire west coast was shifted 100 feet EAST, permanently
sealing the San Andreas fault and forever eliminating the possibility
of the killer earthquake predicted there for the next half-century.
Omegas was not the slightest bit concerned about the limosine driver
as he plumeted 50 feet into the bottom of the large crater he had
just generated. He made a sickening *splat* noise when he hit the
noisome mud at the bottom of the crater--he luck was dismally
horrific it seemed: his reentrance into "real space" had ruptured
the city sewer line.
Suddenly, two figures--an old man and a young man who was slightly
overweight, appeared at the edge of the pit and peered down at
"Man, those guys can't dress for shit" muttered Omegas.
Omegas had the uneasy feeling that the old man was someone he knew,
and since he only knew very powerful immortals, he became even more
uneasy. He extracted himself from the muck and stood up, screwing
up his face at the smell.
"You bloody BASTARD!" yelled St. Peter, "You stinking, smelly,
slimy, detestable excuse for the afterbirth of a stillborn
yeti!" he continued.
Omegas was too stunned and too scared for words. He instantly
dematerialized himself, just as a searing bolt of energy impacted
on the spot where he had been standing, creating an only slightly-
smaller crater within Omegas'. Omegas had the presence of mind
to set his coordinates this time, and presently he appeared in
"%&$&*#&%^#$!" he screamed--for his luck was holding: he had
materialized partially within a tree.
Meanwhile, back at the crater...
Ernst stared dumbly at the smoking hole created by St. Peter's
"You can be pretty nasty for an angel there, Pete." he said
St. Peter stared at him, eyes ablaze. "You ain't seen NOTHING
yet, my boy" he said in a growling voice. "The next time, he
WON'T get away intact."
Will St. Peter smoke Omegas, or will he settle for a good chaw?
Will Ernst fall into the pit and through an inter-dimensional
gateway to the bog of eternal stench?
Will Omegas have a sudden longing for bright sunlight, lots of water,
and 5-10-5 fertilizer?
Is this all a dream?
Will this story ever end?
Find out not all this and not not more in the not next not not issue
not of not not SFSTORY CSNOTICE... in space....!!
***** Entry appended 16:17 on Thu, 06/25/87 by ANDY at MAINE # 044 *****
Appended 16:26 on 06/25/87 by Andy Robinson:
At this point in time, one of the authors of SFSTORY has decided that
it is time to take a break, regardless of what the other author(s)
who have contributed more material think or say.
This intermission would be a good time to fill you in on a little
background information on our hero, Ernst Fluent.
Ernst Fluent was the worlds greatest computer programmer and operator
in the year (I forgot what year it was, but it was many centuries in
the future, anyway). He was employed as a night janitor at (I can't
remember where, but it was a big place, anyway), and his employers
were not aware that he was singlehandedly maintaining their entire
super duper pooper scooper computing system, which ran at several
GOOPS (googol-operations-per-second) and supported millions of users.
One night, having something better to do but not realizing it, Ernst
had the (mis)fortune to type the MUNG command at the system console
of the huge IBM mainframe. He did this despite the fact that IBM
had thoroughly documented the MUNG command as dangerously media-
intensive, as is demonstrated by this page which is referred to in
the index of the VM/SP release 1.8 x 10**14 system programmers guide
at the only information on MUNG:
| This page intentionally left almost but not |
| quite entirely blank |
| (you don't want to know anway) |
| 22,324 |
To make a long story short, the program filled the trans-dimensional
paging media (which is theoretically impossible, which is why many
bad things ocurred when it happened), and Ernst got sucked into a time/
space anomaly which deposited him on top of this Dave person we keep
talking about, while Dave was taking a shower, in the year 1985.
Dave collapsed, and Ernie thought he had killed him, but as we later find
out, this was not the case. Omegas, one of God's head honchos, had stolen
Dave's brain to restore his own knowlege of the Earth. In any event, Ernie
cut up Dave's body with a butter knife and threw him in the garbage
disposal, which jammed and cost a lot of money to fix, and always smelled
bad from that point on.
Ernie went through a series of misadventures which eventually ended in his
death. Fortunately for Ernie, he wasnt supposed to die yet, and he was
sent back to earth with the Archangel St. Peter on a mission we are still
trying to figure out.
If you think all these run-on sentences are unintentional, you are wrong,
and if that is the case, you have demonstrated beyond any reasonable
shadow of a doubt that you an utter moron and belong in the local zoo.
Wasn't that fun?
***** Entry appended 16:26 on Thu, 06/25/87 by ANDY at MAINE # 045 *****
Appended 13:59 on 06/27/87 by Jeff Smith:
Since Andy has done us the service of giving us a brief synopsis of
Ernst Fluent's life, I, too, will attempt to clarify the ever-changing
world of SFSTORY via some comments on each major character.
Omegas - The right-hand man of God who, in the course of carrying out
the instructions given to him by the Great One, died and was
given eternal life by Satan (q.v.) in return for service as
his employee. Despite what one might think, being in the
service of both the King of Heaven and the Prince of Darkness
has caused no moral confusion for Omegas for the simple reason
the he has none to be confused.
Bubba - aka Bubba the Wanton and Invincible Death-Merchant from Hell. An
innocent New Yorker (or at least as innocent as they come in
that pit of preversion) who, due to stupidity within his control,
became a slave to Satan (q.v.). However, he was later rescued
from eternal punishment by a freak rip in the Space-Time
continuum. His stay in Nether-space was brief, and eventually
led him to his present fate, that of a proud owner of the
Spaceship Disposer which, incidentally, is under attack.
Ralph - aka The Giant Space Weasel from Anthrax V. A greatly
misunderstood and much put-upon Weaseloid from the distant
planet Leibowitz IV. He, too, was tricked into Satan's service
by G.X.P. Varnyloop LXVII (q.v.), but escaped it by a contract
technicality. Ralph is, in actuality, a very gentle creature,
and an accomplished ukulele player in his own right. He is
presently undergoing an in-depth study on the amount of sex
that a Weaseloid can have without growing an extra leg. So
far, the results are inconclusive, and Ralph is doing further
Satan - The Devil. You all know about him, from personal experience
or otherwise, so I need not elaborate on his character any
further. Nevertheless, let it be said that he is, to put
it into polite terms, not a ton of laughs. He is presently
trying to stop anyone from reaching the planet of Arziquarzonis
where, it is suspected, is the one thing in the universe which
he cannot stand. He may be found in Hell, or at Vinnie's Deli
on 8th street during lunch hour.
The Doctor - Doctor Bing Von Spleen, the world's most famous and
clearest-complexioned Spamological Engineer. He invented
the Automatic Beet Peeler and Sub-Atomic Re-integrater,
which was eventually used against him by a fellow scientist
to send him into Neter-Space. He later became a biker on
the planet Foonronger IV, where he accidentally killed
Captain Steve Vogel (q.v.). He left the planet on a stolen
spaceship powered by the ABPSR and returned to Earth, where
he was destroyed, and subsequentally reconstructed, by
Linda - The buxom, slightly illiterate computer specialist of the
doomed Challenger II. After this ill-fated ship met it's
final end in the form of eight tons of Spam, she gained a
job as a show-girl at Ernie's Skin and Booze Emporium on the
planet Lascivious VI, where she was later killed accidentally
by a bouncer.
G.X.P.- The Name-Maker and associate of Satan who's full name reads,
Gorginforx Xipnapoloop Pargarquackylywinks Varnyloop LXVII,
giving all who know him a keen understanding of why he uses
his initials. Varnyloop is tall, blue, and likes to yodel in
his spare time. Some of his most famous reputation-inflations
are; The Giant Space Weasel of Anthrax V, Dorf the Hideous and
Thoroughly Evil Body-Basher or Fructose VII, Hoon the Amazing
and Totally Fabulous Wonder-Worker of Beachcomber VIII, and
Ronald Reagan the Great Communicator. He is presently living
on the planet Anthrax V.
Steve - Captain Steve Vogel, the neurotic and slightly effeminate
captain of the ill-fated Challenger II. Due to a slight
mishap when he came out of nether-space, he was turned into
a Seven-Legged Qwumby, run over by Doctor Von Spleen (q.v.)
and made into fish-food.
Dan - A computer science student at Boston University who, due to a
cooking mishap, was teleported into Nether-Space where he met
Ralph and Bubba (q.v.). Eventually he left with Ralph and is now
presently conducting his own study of a similar nature to that of
St. Peter - The record-keeper and bouncer of Heaven. He was sent by
the Supreme Being to Earth to pursue a hitherto unrevealed
mission. He is being helped by Ernst Fluent.
***** Entry appended 13:59 on Sat, 06/27/87 by RPS385 at MAINE # 046 *****
Appended 16:00 on 06/28/87 by Jeff Smith:
Omegas, mad beyond any possible comprehension by mortals, used a
large portion of the power available to him and caused the tree that
he had materialized into and every one like it in the entire universe
to instantly remove itself from the limits of ordinary space. This being
done, he dusted himself off and walked through the remainder of the
forest, occasionally torching trees and small animals with a shaft of
flame from his fingertips.
Several dozen pigeons and squirrels later, he came to the boundary of
the forest and could see the green spaceship that contained Doctor Von
Spleen squatting on the scorched earth before him. He stepped out of
the protection of the trees and advanced toward the ship. Suddenly,
without any warning whatsoever, a shaft of blue light shot from the nose
of the spaceship and burnt a deep tunnel into the ground, just inches
from Omegas' feet. With super-human reflexes, he dove to the ground
just as the beam sliced through the air above him, wiping out several
trees and two rapists who had been hiding in them.
Omegas quickly summoned a Death-o-matic Pistol and fired back at the
spaceship. His shot ricocheted off an invisible barrier between him and
the ship, shooting off harmlessly into the sky. (As a matter of fact,
the shot streaked through space and, one second later, impacted on the
surface of the moon, making a highly artificial puncture that frustrated
and confused the scientists who discovered it in the year 2960 to the
extent that one of them shot himself in despair. So in actuality, the
shot was not so harmless after all.) Omegas pumped off several more
shots, but all of them were likewise reflected by the force-screen.
"Goddamn it!", screamed Omegas before he could stop himself. With
the realization of what he had done, he blanched and immediately started
to do the most furious praying that this world has seen in several
centuries. Having made his apologies to those parties concerned, Omegas
returned to the matter at hand.
He tossed the useless gun aside and began to think. However, before
he could complete a thought, the blue beam once again shot out from the
nose of the ship, burning away several rock formations and rubbing out
a family of tourists who had thought that this was some fabulous new
Knowing that discretion was the better part of valor and that
cowardice was the greater half of discretion, Omegas valiantly ran away
into the forest. He stopped several hundred yards in, panting and
puffing. He sat down to rest and began to think.
"The problem is", he thought, "getting past the beam and the shield
without destroying the ship."
With a flash of insight, he found the answer that he had been looking
for. With confidence in his stride, he walked toward the edge of the
forest, and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the beam of blue energy
that had been blossoming from the nose of the ship stopped in mid-flight
several yards away from Omegas. A lone pigeon that had miraculous
escaped being vaporized by the firefight earlier hovered unmoving in
mid-flight. Omegas smiled to himself and walked up to the ship.
He know that the Anti Particle/Energy Shield (or APES for short)
worked by resonating three sculpted force beams around the perimeter
of the protected area at a very high rate, four or five hundred thousand
a second. This was able to stop all particle weapons and most energy
weapons. However, if time were somehow stopped, the ship would be
vulnerable in all but three easily avoided spots.
Omegas carefully inspected the space directly in front of him and
cautiously threw a handful of dirt at the ships hull. It clattered
noisily against the hard metal, displaying to Omegas that this was one
of the unprotected spots. He stepped up to the ship's door, and pressed
the "Door Open" button. With a dull whine, the gangplank lowered to
ground level, and Omegas walked inside the ship.
He closed the door, turned on the lights in the hallway, and snapped
his fingers. The subtle yet omnipresent sounds of a spaceship taking
care of itself filled his ears as he walked noiselessly toward the
front of the ship, pausing occasionally to listen for footsteps. He
eventually arrived at the door to the cockpit and stepped through the
door-opening field. The metal door swished silently into its wall
crevice revealing Doctor Von Spleen deeply engaged in observations of
infra-red sensors, motion detectors, and laser-guidance systems. He
was so absorbed that he did not notice Omegas step up behind him, nor
did he notice the chair being broken over his head which knocked him
unconscious to the floor, nor did he notice Omegas subsequently kick him
in the head to see if he was awake.
He remained in a like state of unconscious stupor as Omegas skillfully
piloted the ship off the Earth and into deep space. He did not awake
until they had passed through hyper-space and were orbiting the small,
dusty sphere known to those who know of it as Arziquarzonis and to those
who don't as That Small Dusty Planet That We Don't Know About. By
the time he had gained the strength to rise to his feet, Omegas had
tied him up with coaxial cable and had hung him upside-down in his
bedroom. The sudden rush of blood to the Doctor's head caused him to
sink back into the blackness that had absorbed him earlier, and therefore
he did not notice when Omegas set the ship down on the surface of
Arziquarzonis and when he exited the ship with a pair of hot-pink
Doctor Von Spleen remained upside-down and unconscious until Omegas
returned several hours later with a small bundle wrapped in brown
paper taped shut with electricians tape. When he was finally cut
down, he groggyly asked his abductor what was contained within the
package and was answered with a kick to the head that knocked him
back into the all too familiar state of sensory deprivation known as
He regained his senses an unknown number of hours later alone in
his spaceship. He struggled up into a sitting position in a nearby
chair, and passed out again. When he awoke the second time, he rose to
his feet, stumbled over to a medicine chest, and gave himself a dozen
pain-killers and system-refreshers. These perked him up sufficiently
for him to shamble to the cockpit and get a reading of his position.
He realized, with a shock, that he was orbiting the Sun fairly
closely, and that his orbit was decaying. He sat down in the command
chair, pressed a series of buttons on the engine-control panel, and
waited for the tug of acceleration that would pull him away from a firey
death. However no such tug came.
To say that at this point Doctor Von Spleen was distressed would
be the understatement of the year. His emotion at this point could
best be described as the same intensity of distress that would be felt
by Jerry Falwell if Jesus were revealed to have been black. The Doctor
ran his fingers wildly over the computer keyboard in front of him, trying
to pinpoint the trouble with his engines. Eventually, it was revealed
to be a ceasation in the flow of power to the fusion-initiator chamber.
In fact, there was a general lack of power all over the ship and the
life-support systems and the computer were running on battery power
only. This disturbed the Doctor to no end.
Acting on a hunch, Doctor Von Spleen dug through the pile of papers
and general refuse that was gathering in the corner of the cockpit. At
the bottom should be the ABPSAR, thought Doctor Von Spleen, maybe it's
out of Neo-spam.
He reached the bottom of the pile. The Automatic Beet-Peeler and
Sub-Atomic Re-integrater was gone, and in its stead was a note written
in precise script. The Doctor read the note slowly to himself.
Sorry to have to leave you like this, friend,
but my employer needed this little device you
have. Too bad about the orbit, eh? Just
think, though, you will have the *ultimate*
tan. Later, dude.
P.S. Thanks for the pills, they were quite
Omegas quickly opened the drawer that he kept his custom-made pills
"Bastard.", hissed the Doctor between his teeth.
He stomped out of the cockpit and into the ship's galley. He
turned to the box-like food-processor and punched a familiar series of
buttons, hoping to manufacture a few of his old favorites so he could
enjoy the scenery on the way down. However, due to the lack of
power, the most the machine could do was whine a bit and cough out a
blue liquid. The Doctor kicked the machine, which successfully stopped
its annoying whine, and drank the blue liquid with a shrug of his
shoulders. The liquid tasted like blue water and the Doctor spit it
out all over the floor. With a renewed violence to his stride, he
stomped forward into the cockpit and threw himself into the command
chair. A small red light was blinking on the screen, telling him that
the ship's battery power was running low.
"B.F.D.", was the Doctor's pithy response to the light and its
message. The Doctor watched through the view-screen as the bright
yellow surface of the Sun grew nearer and nearer and as the lights in
the cockpit dimmed more and more until the only light came from the
inferno outside. Mesmerized by the colorful solar flares erupting
beneath him, the Doctor gradually slipped into sleep and fell to the
Completely unknown to the Doctor, another spaceship had detected his
and was swiftly approaching. The oncoming ship was large and resembled
a metal shark with large engines shoved into places that any being that
valued it's life in any manner whatsoever would not dare to place
anything, most of all large engines. These engines silently ignited
and gave the shark-ship a gentle nudge that placed it in an orbit
parallel to the Doctor's, but several hundred meters above it. As
soon as this maneuvering had been completed, a small square hatch
yawned open on the belly of the ship, and a short, stubby rod extended
from the gap. From the nose of the rod came a thick beam of energy
that cloaked the Doctor's ship and slowly carried it upwards.
Soon, the Doctor's ship was attached to the belly of the shark-ship
in a manner that made the whole arrangement look somewhat obscene.
Esthetic quibbles aside, however, the ship was attached and as soon
as this had been completed, the engines once more ignited and the shark
ship and it's cargo blasted away from the Sun out into interstellar
Where is the ship going?
What will it do with the Doctor's ship?
Why is the ship shaped like a shark?
Just *how* is the arrangement obscene?
To find all the answers to these and other thrilling questions, read the
next issue of SFSTORY CSNOTICE!
***** Entry appended 16:00 on Sun, 06/28/87 by RPS385 at MAINE # 047 *****
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