August 9th, 2007

  • roybot

ceephax carmichael and the disruptarian infodrome

critical breech
critical breech
critical breeches
critical bleachers
mavis beacon teaches...

it went on like this for pages and pages. i was torn between two courses of action: one, light this motherfucking confusing stack of papers on fire so i didn't have to ever see it again, or two, do my duty and get this shit to a cryptanlyist, post-haste.

thoughts of the brig convinced me that option two was an investment in the future. my future.

i brought it to dr. maximillian cognition, a recognized and networked munger of codez. he was with the triangular department, and consequently i had only met him once before. i was not sure if he would remember me.

i checked through security, got my directions, and proceeded. i was surprised to find that the compound was incredibly large, as i was not walking but a few minutes before i found myself in a forest, seemingly naturally and carefully built around. i wondered what the shape of the entire complex was, as it may very well have simply followed natural geological and ecological realities.

dr. cognition's lab was not that much further along, seemingly quite modern and well-maintained. i stepped up to the door, and impregnated the card reader with my visitor card. it beeped.

the door slid open, and i found myself in a sort of lobby area. a secretary appeared and offered tea, which i declined, and coffee, to which i acquiesced.

it appeared shortly, and i patiently sipped it and looked around the room. as per my training, i listened as well as looked, and detected some strange noises coming from the floor below... a deep rumble, and a regular clanging... but quite quiet, it could very well have just been the ventillation system. the good doctor obviously had his mad scientist schtick down, and a bizarre, efficient, and potentially deadly ventillation system was certainly a complimentary shade of bananas.

a panel slid open, and the doctor emerged. he did not look amused. i opened my mouth to speak, but he didn't seem to want that to happen, just yet. he ushered me into his office, sat me down, sat at his desk across from me, all the while holding his scowl. then he spoke.

"i was just about to release the Q valve so the elasticity could percolate!!" he fumed. "this had better be important, this interruption. who the hell are you??"

"i'm seargent reverend tedward q. porktanker of the flannel division," i replied, offering my visitor pass, "and i am on a high-priority mission, for which i need the services of a high-grade cryptanalysist such as yourself."

i handed him the papers, relieved that it finally might be someone else's problem.

"riced out yugo... the novel..." he muttered, looking the manuscript over.

then, something seemed to light a bulb in his head. his demeaneor changed, and not in a way that made me comfortable.

"lad," he said (i hate it when they call me lad), "where did you get this?"

"it's a long story," i began. "i was..."

"well nevermind." he said. i apologize. this definitely is of importance."

he pressed the call button, and moments later, his secretary appeared.

"yes, doctor?" she said politely.

"betty, we'd like to borrow you for a simple little experiment, if that's okay."

"oh, sure, i guess!" she replied.

the doctor handed her the manuscript, and sat her down at an easy chair to the side of his desk.

"betty, please read the first few pages, however much you'd like, and let us know what your reactions are and how you feel."

"er... okay!" she said, and quietly began reading.

and kept reading.

after twenty minutes, we realized something was amiss. she was certainly awake, alert, and reading, but would not respond to any of our queries. attempts to recover the manuscript were met with oddly catatonic resistance. we decided to simply let her finish it..

...which she did, a half hour later, thanks to the obviously intense concentration she was giving it. she neatly placed it down on the desk, sat up primly, and announced her opinion.

"it's not bad."

"not bad?!?!" doctor cognition stormed. "you wouldn't let us tear it away from you!!"

she blinked.

"i did??" she said, appearing genuinely confused.

the manuscript was going to print next thursday, and this was NOT the master... it was a mere copy.

when i quietly (okay, timidly) informed the doctor of this, he seemed to turn a new level of green.

sigh. of course, instead of being solved, it just has to turn into a bigger problem, right? i had been on shore leave not but four weeks ago, and already it seemed a lifetime. maybe i should quit and open a bar.

Posted by Reverend Tedward Q. Porktanker