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A short sci-fi story from me

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Soviet cogitations: 925
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 22 Mar 2004, 17:55
Post 05 Mar 2005, 20:30
Well I didn't really know where else to post it, so here goes. This was written about three years ago so bear with some of the childish lanugage.

The Examination

Mr. Wilson looked at the little fish swimming in the aquarium. Their small, golden bodies slithered around in the clear water. Strange, unearthly creatures-that’s what they looked like to Mr. Wilson. He smiled. They were his little creatures-his attempt at bringing up a living thing. His little experiment before he and his wife would attempt to create a real family.
He opened the little packet of fish food and emptied the brown dust in the water. It was nearing seven thirty so it was time for him to go to the pub that he visited every week for his customary pint and game of pool. Mr. Wilson grabbed his coat and turned off the loud Ride of the Valkyries that was blaring out of the loudspeakers of his Hi-Fi system. He had fallen in love with that piece the first time he saw Apocalypse Now, his favourite movie.
“I am going to the pub, honey!” he said to Mrs. Wilson who was sitting on the living room sofa, reading her newest romance novel about beautiful maidens and repeating love triangles. Just like the Scooby-Doo animations his nephew watched: same plot, just different characters.
Just like in real life, Mr. Wilson thought, as he closed the door, getting only a faint wave by his wife. In his repetitive life he did the same things over and over and over again, but now even the characters were beginning to repeat-his colleagues at the builders’ company, his relatives, his friends down the pub. Everyone.
A spear of cold wind pierced him and he sank deeper into the leather jacket. Mr. Wilson’s eyes wondered towards the night sky, where bright stars flickered on a black canvas. And the most absurd question for an atheist like him swam up into his mind “Is there a God?”

* * *

There was one and right now he was eating another doughnut. He smacked his lips and wiped his hands on a towel. In the plastiglass cube with a five-metre side in the middle of the lab sat a blue pearl wrapped in milky clouds. On the far side of the cage was a whitey-yellow holographic image of a star, what the subjects of the experiment called Sun. The beautiful gem floating in the artificial vacuum span slowly on its tilted axis.
A multitude of tubes and cables were connected to the cube, recording everything that went on in the little world. They were all connected to a computer console in the middle of the room. That same console beeped with a piercing scream to get God’s attention.
He walked to it and looked at the screen. Data filled the green monitor, twisted characters spelled out long words of scientific data. And the information that was just coming in was quite impressive to say the least.
“Hey everyone, come and see this!” God shouted.
A few figures fumbled through the door, the scientific team of Carthora, the crème-de la-crème of the planet’s researchers and geniuses. First in was a man dressed in a red robe, sporting a red dot in the middle of his forehead-the psychological and philosophical expert of the project. He was tasked with studying the patterns of the ants that they created.
“Don’t tell me they are fighting again!” the psychologist said “They had a war just two minutes ago! And it was big, I remember…ay, ay, ay, they are just repeating our mistakes!”
“Don’t worry Buddha.” God reassured him “It’s something more peaceful.”
A disappointed groan was heard behind.
“Ah, no. I need another war to finish my report, you know!” said Allah, the military expert, tasked with studying their conflicts and foreign policies.
“So what is it, what is it?” excitedly asked Shiva, the biological and medical researcher. He was jumping from foot to foot, waving his six arms around with unimaginable speed and fury. “Did they discover the cure for cancer? Did they? Did they?”
“No,” God said, “what they just did was launch a satellite!”
A hush fell on the lab. This was a tremendous achievement for the subjects.
“It was time as well.” Interrupted Jehovah, the physicist “It is about fifteen minutes behind schedule. Sorry, two hundred years.” The rule that they had to use the specimen’s time confused everybody.
“Remember, their church hampered them between ten twenty and ten thirty five…sorry, nine hundred AD and fifteen hundred AD.” Buddha began.
“Yeah, yeah. But who launched it?” asked Allah.
“Hmmmm…the faction known as Soviet Union.” God consulted the screen “Oh my Mortha! They just carried out an artificial limb operation!”
“Don’t use the All Mighty’s name like that!” reminded him Jehovah.
“Oh, oh! This is so exciting!” Shiva clapped his hands.
Beep after beep flooded the speakers of the console. The test subjects made invention after invention.
“This must be examined closely.” Said Zeus, the overseer of the project. “OK, the seventies seem like a very productive period for them, oh, and the eighties.”
All the scientists were grouped around the console and the test cube, examining the little world with curiosity. Suddenly the clouds over it began to change colour and to thicken.
“What is going on, God?” asked Jehovah.
“Pollution. Just like us.” God replied, typing something on the keyboard. “Yep, the planet’s temperature is rising. If it continues with the same rate, by twelve o’clock…two thousand and fifty, they would be in serious trouble, you know.”
“OK, people” Zeus began “someone needs to go down and tell them about it, stop them just like Mortha stopped us from committing environmental suicide. Who is it going to be?”
Zeus looked around the room. Everybody’s eyes rolled as they backed away, looking for something else to do. His eyes stopped on God.
“Uh-uh, Boss. Last time I went they nailed me to that cross. And remember that I nearly spilled the beans about the project-I told them what we did on each day.” God said, waving his arms around.
“No can do, sir. They put an elephant’s head on me, the ill-mannered cavemen!”
“No, sir! I can’t go either!” smiled Allah “They insulted me big time-they thought I was so ugly that they don’t paint pictures of me anymore.”
Zeus sighed. Each scientist has been down to the experiment during the last twenty-four hours and they all got a mixed response from them-ranging from crosses to stone circles.
“Yeah, we need somebody new.” Zeus said and looked around the lab. In the far corner a small person was sweeping the floor. “Hey you! Yes, you! What’s your name?”
The little man gulped and began sweating profoundly.
“What’s your name, son?” Zeus asked “Come on, just because I have electrical gauntlets doesn’t mean I will hurt you. What’s your name?”
“S...s…Satan, sir.” The man said in a thin voice “But I only sweep the floors and clean the consoles, I’m not qualified for any…anything.”
“Do you think Ra was qualified, ay? But look at them now-they built pyramids because they believed in him. Come on, I will tell you what to do…”
As the two men walked towards the teleporting machine, God looked out of the window, wondering “Is what we are doing right, Mortha?”

* * *

The student was sitting in the auditorium, pretending that he was listening to the professor who was going on about their examination.
“And as you know, any young Volking who aspires to become an artificial environment researcher, must pass the Mortha test…” the teacher droned on, a small sphere sat on his desk. It was a Mortha sphere, invented over fifty years ago by Wilmus Mortha, a mad little man who was playing around in his garage, many years after his retirement. He had a vision and he pursued it-an artificial world. So he made Carthora, the red ball that was the centrepiece of every Mortha sphere. Now anyone could buy one of these anywhere in the Volking Empire for little over two hundred starbucks.
Many purists argued that it was cruel to make so many copies of the same civilization, so many people, and then watch them as they annihilate themselves. But the student didn’t care. He needed to study the basic Mortha sphere, in order to get his degree, and then, after the examination, he would be free to design his own worlds. But he just needed to pass the stupid examination, those boring questions on the history and behaviour patterns of the population of Carthora. But the stupid examination was over two weeks away. Stupid, stupid examination. You could cheat so easily on it, as the questions were all the same, every year-the history of the planet Carthora repeated itself again and again. Every pocket Carthora ended up destroying itself, and its little citizens never learned-never got the sense of deja vu as they relived their life over and over again. They made the same mistakes, same choices, same inventions. Never, absolutely never, did they prevent their micro-Armageddon by total ban on their weapons. So the questions never changed. Never. Every time, the first task would be to write a mini-essay on the history of Carthora between twelve and fifteen hundred years AM (anno Morthily, derived from that same mad Mortha). No wonder everybody passed, making this the most popular course in the whole Empire. Stupid, stupid examination. Stupid, stupid examination boards. They should just ban it full stop, he thought.
Bored, the student looked out of the window, His gaze wondered towards the sky, and his young mind painted a bizarre, impossible picture: a giant eye looking onto the student’s world as if they were all…fish in an aquarium.
-"One of the lasses I know is a 32D...yes, I'm a horny, unsuccessful virgin." - LPC reveals all on MSN
Soviet cogitations: 614
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 12 Nov 2004, 23:24
Post 05 Mar 2005, 23:34
Woah. That's really nifty, good job! Did you just write that for the heck of it or was it for a project or something?
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Soviet cogitations: 925
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 22 Mar 2004, 17:55
Post 05 Mar 2005, 23:43
Just for the heck of it!!!

I find that if you have to do something for a project it just doesn't turn out well.

This came about in the middle of the night, as most things do - it is when everything seems to make sense, even worlds within worlds within's a strange world, my one!
-"One of the lasses I know is a 32D...yes, I'm a horny, unsuccessful virgin." - LPC reveals all on MSN
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Soviet cogitations: 77
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 24 Apr 2004, 23:55
Post 23 Jun 2005, 22:24 That took alittle too much brain power to figure out for me, but very good once I got it. All I need is another paradox to mull over...
I can say God, but that is not my God. That is only a noise, and is no more potent than any other noise.
Soviet cogitations: 2775
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 27 Sep 2004, 23:23
Party Bureaucrat
Post 23 Jun 2005, 22:47
Very good, keep up the good work, Comrade! Were all fish in a bowl to someone.
Whoppee for Comrade Sergei.
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Soviet cogitations: 5520
Defected to the U.S.S.R.: 21 Jun 2004, 21:22
Post 27 Jun 2005, 14:33
That was really well written, pretty hilarious, I actually chuckled out loud.

I hope this doesn't get me banned again-Fontis
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