Post by bubblegum91 on Dec 7, 2011 9:07:53 GMT -5
Okay, this was from a prompt. It's nothing too serious, simply a way to see what I could do. And I apologize for the size.
Science vs Man
No one could have foreseen the events of E- day. After all, how in the world does one predict the downfall of mankind?
Emily's day had started the way so many had before it. With a series of whirs and whispers. Her room sprang to life as the computer groggily awoke from it's slumber.
"Miss, miss. Are you awake?"
A snort flew out of Emily's nose, breathing deeply she rolled over. "Just another five minutes."
She stretched an aching arm, millions of pin prick like sensations tumbled down the limb, bringing it back to life.
"Miss, miss. I must urge you to get up. You are already behind schedule."
A soft groan, followed swiftly by a long yawn.
"Sure, sure," another yawn, "Just another five minutes, okay?"
Suddenly, the bed jumped up, as if something had startled it and sent a dazed Emily crashing to the floor.
The impact of the blow sent an explosion of pain through her legs, not to mention she could have sworn her spine had been cracked.
"Okay, I'm up now. Are you freaking happy now?" she asked, rubbing her thighs.
"Miss, miss. You are going to be late. You are already behind schedule."
"Computers," she huffed, her jaw clenching, "Don't value the importance of a good night's sleep."
"Miss, miss-"
"Yeah, yeah. Behind schedule. I'm going already!"
To Emily's dismay, her enthusiastic helper had been correct. After taming her red curls, and peeling off a coat of plaque from her teeth, she barely had enough time to make it to the bus. The indignity of it all. Her. Emily Portstorme, daughter of the inventor Jonathon Portstorme, having to ride the bus like someone from the 20th century.
She had once laughed at the notion, pointing to the picture in her dusty history book, while her friends giggled incessantly and proclaimed it "A tin full of losers."
Everyone knew the proper way to go to school was via the Laser. Even if the cost was obscene. It was an odd sensation, to have a thousand lasers bounce off you, as you slowly melted away, only to appear at your desired location. No one exactly knew how the process worked, and as the inventors had died in 2040, no one was to ever find out. Emily did know one thing, however, the entire process left you feeling as though your stomach had turned upside down and your internal organs danced maniacally. It had taken 10 times before she could finish the process without emptying her upside down stomach, usually on an unsuspecting passerby. Thankfully, most people were understanding.
Now, as she boarded the Bus, a run down beast, more rust than metal, she couldn't help but wonder, what her friends would say. Well, if they still talked to her, that was.
Since her Father's income began to slow to a halt, Emily found herself less and less popular. Her once tight nit herd of supportive followers had turned their backs on her. At least now she knew who the fakers were.
As the bus, or "Rust mobile" as Emily affectionately referred to it, puttered towards the school, Emily found herself drawn to the Laboratory. The Rust mobile almost always passed by the Lab, saving it's tiny fuel reserves as it cut out five unnecessary minutes, but Emily hadn't given it much thought. It was like all Labs in the city, tall, slender and dull grey. The building stood over 20 stories, every floor filled to capacity with tiny workstations. Each had a flurry of people in white coats, swooning over chemicals or attempting to create tiny little hail storms.
She watched curiously as a tall elderly looking man, with twisted glasses, grinned in triumph, having successfully created a tiny storm cloud. It even spat out tiny lightning bolts.
'Sheesh. Talk about playing with fire.'
"What ya thinkin'?" a sheepish voice asked.
Emily turned her head, right as the Rust mobile hit a shattered speed bump, causing it's contents to leap a foot high in the air.
"Goddammit," she said, rubbing the back of her head where it had collided with the window. "If they're going to use the Bus, they should at least fix the road."
Her companion grinned. "That would cost the Government too much moolah," he said in a matter of fact tone. "Besides, only us poor kidlings use this stupid contraption." He gave the side of the Rust mobile a hearty slap, causing some of the worn out metal to crumble.
Emily watched as a shower of tiny flakes of rust, glided gracefully to the equally disintegrated floor. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Chazzy," she said, panic seeping into her tone. "Who knows when this piece of crap will give way. I'm actually amazed it has lasted this long."
She ran a hand through her hair, and realized it was shaking.
A smirk tugged at the corners of Chazzy's mouth, "Ah come on, Em," he leaned across her lap, and tapped on the glass. "If we do break down, I'm sure those Docs could give us a hand."
He gave an enthusiastic wave at the robed figures.
Emily sighed and poked him in the ribs. "Quit it, will ya. Geez, you're such the dorkness."
Chazzy issued a hearty laugh, "Whateves ya recon." He slid back to his seat, and relaxed his sinewy muscles. "So, ya going to the Spitzmaster concert tonight?"
Emily glanced at her best friend. He seemed more interested in the front cabin, his finger unconsciously twisting a lock of his golden hair, than her reply. But that was Chazzy, or Charles as was his birth name. Obviously intelligent, but possessed the attention span of a flea. He had been in Emily's life every step of the way. She even spent time with him during her popular phase, earning her judgmental whispers and curious stares.
"I don't know."
She shrugged when she received an incredulous look from Chazzy. "I mean, the 'Muminator' is in town, and you know how she feels about concerts."
All she received was a "Pfft."
The Rust mobile skidded to a halt, it's tires emitting a long squeal.
"You have to come, Em" he said, a little more frantic than she expected.
"Oh, he's going to be there, isn't he?"
Chazzy's cheeks flushed a bright red. "Perhaps," he said, chewing on the end of his finger guiltily.
Before Emily could say anything, he strolled out of the bus, his head cocked to one side. A definite sign that his mind was swimming in images of his latest crush.
The day dragged on like every day. Here she was, trapped in the prison people called school. It didn't look too bad on the outside. A relatively short building, wearing a coat of white paint with pride. Hexagonal shaped windows, with clear glass, lined the walls. Of course, up close you could see the coat starting to fray. And the glass had tiny cracks from months of indifferent workers. It wasn't the worst school. But it was also the only school for one hundred miles. Somehow the Government thought that that would be convenient. Lord only knew why.
Emily entered the class, her attention on the hologram board sitting in the front. She gave a curt nod to her teacher, who returned it and grabbed a worksheet off the table.
As Emily sauntered toward her gleaming, steel chair, a peculiar thing caught her eye. Out of the window were clouds. Not clouds, exactly. They resembled blobs. Big blobs of charcoal black,which hovered toward the building. Then they seemed to shatter, sending little pieces of ash tumbling towards the ground. Emily squinted her hazel eyes. The sky was being devoured by the blobs.
Within a few minutes, the normally blue sky, was covered in a blanket of darkness. More and more blobs of charcoal began to destroy themselves.
Suddenly, a TV screen lowered itself from the steel covered ceiling. A man, in a grey and white suit, appeared with a stack of white paper.
"If you have just tuned in," he began in a forced sincere tone, "It seems that the volcano Quasi has finally erupted."
An image of the offending volcano materialized on screen. A relatively ordinary looking thing, puffing out the blobs of charcoal, like an old steam train.
"Scientists have expected this for quite some time, as it was due to erupt in 2013, over 60 years ago. They have been baffled by it's very late eruption and are continuing to debate just what took volcano Quasi so long."
As quickly as it had appeared, the TV made a hasty retreat towards the ceiling. In it's place a large blue light on the end of a stick had descended, wailing as the light spun around.
"Warning. Warning. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."
Emily's fellow students quickly went into riot mode. Some were screaming, some were jumping on top of desks, some were wearing masks of shock and some were even tugging at their hair. The teacher, a slim 20 year old woman with short spiky black hair, attempted to quell the crowd. Emily, however, knew exactly what she had to do.
It had been many years ago, during her time in Primary school. A bulky man with silver hair and a large book had warned them all of a world wide disaster, apparently years overdue.
"In case this happens in your lifetime," he had explained, he voice wavering as if he, himself, did not believe it. "You must make your way to your nearest cryogenics lab."
He cleared his throat at two boys arguing in the corner, "The scientists will do the best they can to assign you to a cryogenics cylinder. But know that they are limited."
What was not said was only the richest and most powerful families got first choice. Although, there was still hope for everyone else, as the obvious choice for the wealthy, would be to hop on the emergency rockets.
With that in mind, Emily strolled out of class, not bothering to heed roll call, heading straight for the Cryogenic Laboratory. After all, she thought, the least of my problems is getting busted wagging. She silently hoped Chazzy would already be at one. He always figured things out five minutes before she did. Clinging to that thought, and assuring herself her friend was probably already waiting for her, she trudged on.
The one thing the Government had done right, was make the cryogenic Labs very accessible. Not to mention numerous.
You couldn't go five blocks in the city without passing one. Unfortunately, with the sky raining ash, it made breathing quite difficult. With an arm slung around her mouth, Emily made her way down the road.
The streets were swimming with frantic people. Emily knew that, with the current lack of breathable oxygen, she would have to settle for the first cryogenics lab she cold make it to.
It took her more than 10 minutes to make to the lab. She pushed herself through the throng of worried people, almost crushing her between their bodies. It was like an overcrowded mosh pit. Sweat and body odor surrounded her senses. Her nostrils crinkled with disgust, as she was coated in sweat and tears.
When she finally made it through, she made a mental note to have a bath immediately after awakening from her slumber.
"Got to sort out my priorities" she told herself, between coughs and dove for the door.
She was greeted by wailing people, shouting at the poor Scientists, trying to keep order. Between the pleas, sobs and shouts were coughing. Ash now clogged up the streets, it was as if the entire world outside was nothing but a black abyss.
"We only have room for so many people," exclaimed one doctor, frantically waving his clipboard. He was an average looking man, with more brown hair than grey, his white coat clinging to his muscled frame. "I need you to be-" He began a coughing fit. His chest swelled and he doubled over in his effort.
It seemed to set off the crowd, though, watching a Scientist sputtering his lungs out would have caused panic in any situation. Angry, confused, scared people charged towards the back room, overpowering a frustrated nurse, yelling at everyone to keep back.
They began to fight amongst themselves, shoving, punching, kicking. Some exclaimed that they were supposed to be before the others, some held up small children, begging someone to save them but were drowned out by the screams and coughs of the panicked crowd.
Taking a ash filled breath, Emily thought of her parents, willing them to be here, before attempting to push through.
After struggling for a few minutes, and with her lungs starting to become heavy, she spied the containers. Glass cylinder domes, with funny looking metal dials on them. There were about five hundred in total. But there may as well have been one. Two thirds were full, and the crowd had lost their patience.
In one smooth movement, the crowd surged forward once again, like a tide in the ocean. Emily was swept up, and was carried towards her savior domes.
In the moments before the eventual crash, she saw one container, with a person who looked a lot like Chazzy. Emily let herself smile, between coughs, as the crowd barged into the containers.
As the glass containers shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, it dawned on Emily, that the crowd had squandered their last chance for survival.
The last thing Emily would remember was a hundred people coughing and tiny flecks of ash.
Science vs Man
No one could have foreseen the events of E- day. After all, how in the world does one predict the downfall of mankind?
Emily's day had started the way so many had before it. With a series of whirs and whispers. Her room sprang to life as the computer groggily awoke from it's slumber.
"Miss, miss. Are you awake?"
A snort flew out of Emily's nose, breathing deeply she rolled over. "Just another five minutes."
She stretched an aching arm, millions of pin prick like sensations tumbled down the limb, bringing it back to life.
"Miss, miss. I must urge you to get up. You are already behind schedule."
A soft groan, followed swiftly by a long yawn.
"Sure, sure," another yawn, "Just another five minutes, okay?"
Suddenly, the bed jumped up, as if something had startled it and sent a dazed Emily crashing to the floor.
The impact of the blow sent an explosion of pain through her legs, not to mention she could have sworn her spine had been cracked.
"Okay, I'm up now. Are you freaking happy now?" she asked, rubbing her thighs.
"Miss, miss. You are going to be late. You are already behind schedule."
"Computers," she huffed, her jaw clenching, "Don't value the importance of a good night's sleep."
"Miss, miss-"
"Yeah, yeah. Behind schedule. I'm going already!"
To Emily's dismay, her enthusiastic helper had been correct. After taming her red curls, and peeling off a coat of plaque from her teeth, she barely had enough time to make it to the bus. The indignity of it all. Her. Emily Portstorme, daughter of the inventor Jonathon Portstorme, having to ride the bus like someone from the 20th century.
She had once laughed at the notion, pointing to the picture in her dusty history book, while her friends giggled incessantly and proclaimed it "A tin full of losers."
Everyone knew the proper way to go to school was via the Laser. Even if the cost was obscene. It was an odd sensation, to have a thousand lasers bounce off you, as you slowly melted away, only to appear at your desired location. No one exactly knew how the process worked, and as the inventors had died in 2040, no one was to ever find out. Emily did know one thing, however, the entire process left you feeling as though your stomach had turned upside down and your internal organs danced maniacally. It had taken 10 times before she could finish the process without emptying her upside down stomach, usually on an unsuspecting passerby. Thankfully, most people were understanding.
Now, as she boarded the Bus, a run down beast, more rust than metal, she couldn't help but wonder, what her friends would say. Well, if they still talked to her, that was.
Since her Father's income began to slow to a halt, Emily found herself less and less popular. Her once tight nit herd of supportive followers had turned their backs on her. At least now she knew who the fakers were.
As the bus, or "Rust mobile" as Emily affectionately referred to it, puttered towards the school, Emily found herself drawn to the Laboratory. The Rust mobile almost always passed by the Lab, saving it's tiny fuel reserves as it cut out five unnecessary minutes, but Emily hadn't given it much thought. It was like all Labs in the city, tall, slender and dull grey. The building stood over 20 stories, every floor filled to capacity with tiny workstations. Each had a flurry of people in white coats, swooning over chemicals or attempting to create tiny little hail storms.
She watched curiously as a tall elderly looking man, with twisted glasses, grinned in triumph, having successfully created a tiny storm cloud. It even spat out tiny lightning bolts.
'Sheesh. Talk about playing with fire.'
"What ya thinkin'?" a sheepish voice asked.
Emily turned her head, right as the Rust mobile hit a shattered speed bump, causing it's contents to leap a foot high in the air.
"Goddammit," she said, rubbing the back of her head where it had collided with the window. "If they're going to use the Bus, they should at least fix the road."
Her companion grinned. "That would cost the Government too much moolah," he said in a matter of fact tone. "Besides, only us poor kidlings use this stupid contraption." He gave the side of the Rust mobile a hearty slap, causing some of the worn out metal to crumble.
Emily watched as a shower of tiny flakes of rust, glided gracefully to the equally disintegrated floor. "I wish you wouldn't do that, Chazzy," she said, panic seeping into her tone. "Who knows when this piece of crap will give way. I'm actually amazed it has lasted this long."
She ran a hand through her hair, and realized it was shaking.
A smirk tugged at the corners of Chazzy's mouth, "Ah come on, Em," he leaned across her lap, and tapped on the glass. "If we do break down, I'm sure those Docs could give us a hand."
He gave an enthusiastic wave at the robed figures.
Emily sighed and poked him in the ribs. "Quit it, will ya. Geez, you're such the dorkness."
Chazzy issued a hearty laugh, "Whateves ya recon." He slid back to his seat, and relaxed his sinewy muscles. "So, ya going to the Spitzmaster concert tonight?"
Emily glanced at her best friend. He seemed more interested in the front cabin, his finger unconsciously twisting a lock of his golden hair, than her reply. But that was Chazzy, or Charles as was his birth name. Obviously intelligent, but possessed the attention span of a flea. He had been in Emily's life every step of the way. She even spent time with him during her popular phase, earning her judgmental whispers and curious stares.
"I don't know."
She shrugged when she received an incredulous look from Chazzy. "I mean, the 'Muminator' is in town, and you know how she feels about concerts."
All she received was a "Pfft."
The Rust mobile skidded to a halt, it's tires emitting a long squeal.
"You have to come, Em" he said, a little more frantic than she expected.
"Oh, he's going to be there, isn't he?"
Chazzy's cheeks flushed a bright red. "Perhaps," he said, chewing on the end of his finger guiltily.
Before Emily could say anything, he strolled out of the bus, his head cocked to one side. A definite sign that his mind was swimming in images of his latest crush.
The day dragged on like every day. Here she was, trapped in the prison people called school. It didn't look too bad on the outside. A relatively short building, wearing a coat of white paint with pride. Hexagonal shaped windows, with clear glass, lined the walls. Of course, up close you could see the coat starting to fray. And the glass had tiny cracks from months of indifferent workers. It wasn't the worst school. But it was also the only school for one hundred miles. Somehow the Government thought that that would be convenient. Lord only knew why.
Emily entered the class, her attention on the hologram board sitting in the front. She gave a curt nod to her teacher, who returned it and grabbed a worksheet off the table.
As Emily sauntered toward her gleaming, steel chair, a peculiar thing caught her eye. Out of the window were clouds. Not clouds, exactly. They resembled blobs. Big blobs of charcoal black,which hovered toward the building. Then they seemed to shatter, sending little pieces of ash tumbling towards the ground. Emily squinted her hazel eyes. The sky was being devoured by the blobs.
Within a few minutes, the normally blue sky, was covered in a blanket of darkness. More and more blobs of charcoal began to destroy themselves.
Suddenly, a TV screen lowered itself from the steel covered ceiling. A man, in a grey and white suit, appeared with a stack of white paper.
"If you have just tuned in," he began in a forced sincere tone, "It seems that the volcano Quasi has finally erupted."
An image of the offending volcano materialized on screen. A relatively ordinary looking thing, puffing out the blobs of charcoal, like an old steam train.
"Scientists have expected this for quite some time, as it was due to erupt in 2013, over 60 years ago. They have been baffled by it's very late eruption and are continuing to debate just what took volcano Quasi so long."
As quickly as it had appeared, the TV made a hasty retreat towards the ceiling. In it's place a large blue light on the end of a stick had descended, wailing as the light spun around.
"Warning. Warning. This is not a drill. This is not a drill."
Emily's fellow students quickly went into riot mode. Some were screaming, some were jumping on top of desks, some were wearing masks of shock and some were even tugging at their hair. The teacher, a slim 20 year old woman with short spiky black hair, attempted to quell the crowd. Emily, however, knew exactly what she had to do.
It had been many years ago, during her time in Primary school. A bulky man with silver hair and a large book had warned them all of a world wide disaster, apparently years overdue.
"In case this happens in your lifetime," he had explained, he voice wavering as if he, himself, did not believe it. "You must make your way to your nearest cryogenics lab."
He cleared his throat at two boys arguing in the corner, "The scientists will do the best they can to assign you to a cryogenics cylinder. But know that they are limited."
What was not said was only the richest and most powerful families got first choice. Although, there was still hope for everyone else, as the obvious choice for the wealthy, would be to hop on the emergency rockets.
With that in mind, Emily strolled out of class, not bothering to heed roll call, heading straight for the Cryogenic Laboratory. After all, she thought, the least of my problems is getting busted wagging. She silently hoped Chazzy would already be at one. He always figured things out five minutes before she did. Clinging to that thought, and assuring herself her friend was probably already waiting for her, she trudged on.
The one thing the Government had done right, was make the cryogenic Labs very accessible. Not to mention numerous.
You couldn't go five blocks in the city without passing one. Unfortunately, with the sky raining ash, it made breathing quite difficult. With an arm slung around her mouth, Emily made her way down the road.
The streets were swimming with frantic people. Emily knew that, with the current lack of breathable oxygen, she would have to settle for the first cryogenics lab she cold make it to.
It took her more than 10 minutes to make to the lab. She pushed herself through the throng of worried people, almost crushing her between their bodies. It was like an overcrowded mosh pit. Sweat and body odor surrounded her senses. Her nostrils crinkled with disgust, as she was coated in sweat and tears.
When she finally made it through, she made a mental note to have a bath immediately after awakening from her slumber.
"Got to sort out my priorities" she told herself, between coughs and dove for the door.
She was greeted by wailing people, shouting at the poor Scientists, trying to keep order. Between the pleas, sobs and shouts were coughing. Ash now clogged up the streets, it was as if the entire world outside was nothing but a black abyss.
"We only have room for so many people," exclaimed one doctor, frantically waving his clipboard. He was an average looking man, with more brown hair than grey, his white coat clinging to his muscled frame. "I need you to be-" He began a coughing fit. His chest swelled and he doubled over in his effort.
It seemed to set off the crowd, though, watching a Scientist sputtering his lungs out would have caused panic in any situation. Angry, confused, scared people charged towards the back room, overpowering a frustrated nurse, yelling at everyone to keep back.
They began to fight amongst themselves, shoving, punching, kicking. Some exclaimed that they were supposed to be before the others, some held up small children, begging someone to save them but were drowned out by the screams and coughs of the panicked crowd.
Taking a ash filled breath, Emily thought of her parents, willing them to be here, before attempting to push through.
After struggling for a few minutes, and with her lungs starting to become heavy, she spied the containers. Glass cylinder domes, with funny looking metal dials on them. There were about five hundred in total. But there may as well have been one. Two thirds were full, and the crowd had lost their patience.
In one smooth movement, the crowd surged forward once again, like a tide in the ocean. Emily was swept up, and was carried towards her savior domes.
In the moments before the eventual crash, she saw one container, with a person who looked a lot like Chazzy. Emily let herself smile, between coughs, as the crowd barged into the containers.
As the glass containers shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, it dawned on Emily, that the crowd had squandered their last chance for survival.
The last thing Emily would remember was a hundred people coughing and tiny flecks of ash.
.