Chapter 3:

The trainman jerked her jaw hard, clamping her mouth closed between his grime coated hand, padded with a fingerless glove that let his bare fingertips clamp around her mouth and dig into her cheek, and the cradle of his shoulder that was covered in the shredded rags of what had most likely been a coat at one point in time. She rammed her elbow into his stomach, but didn’t even elicit a grimace from his lips. The smile widened and the rot of his breath was powerful when he spoke.

“ Looks to me like I caught a feisty fishy! “, he said with hisses and hushed voice into her ear. Where the hell had he come from? Had he been sleeping under some of the underbrush that was growing nearby? If she could have, she would have kicked herself for letting him get within six feet of her. For all the thinking she did though, all she let out were grunts as she struggled against him trying to break free of his grip.

She felt what was coming next before she saw it, and responded fast by bringing up her right arm just in time to brace his oncoming forearm. His had was gripping a short steel pipe that was sharpened on one end and looked like it would act as a blood letting device. Trainmen were never ones to have much pride in their craftsmanship as long as it worked, and sometimes, when you least expected it, they’d make something that worked out craftily well. It took a considerable amount of strength, though by all means not all, to brace his deadly strike at bay. It was clearly aimed for her torso as she wiggles back and forth and tore at his other arm with her left hand. She was strong, but he had the superior position and she wasn’t sure how long she could fight him.

Her legs kicked and she brought down the heel of her boot onto his shins, it didn’t her him enough to be let go. Sadly, it only seemed to make him all the more anxious to kill her quickly to stop the struggle.

“ Come on ye little fishy, don’t fight too much or maybe I’ll just stab ye in the gut and let ye die on yer own in the jimmies out here after I take yer stuff “, his arm pushed harder as he mumbled. His foul breath clouded her mind. She reached her free hand up to grip his attacking wrist in an attempt to lever the pipe out of his hand, it was a pretty desperate move, letting go of the arm that pinched her jaw shut, but it was a good bet. Sure enough she managed to work it till it fell to the ground

“ Ye filthy minx of a fishy “, he hissed as she felt his grip on her jaw and the pressure of his attacking arm relax and slip away. She tried to spin to face him in a more appropriate stance the kick was already almost there and it connected with her chest, knocking her backward and pushing the wind hard out of her torso. When her eyes were open he already had the pipe back and she rolled only just in time to avoid it stabbing in the ground, maybe where she’d just been, it was too close to think about and far too recent to care about the subtle mistakes and capabilities. She spun and connected her heel with his forehead in the moment his pipe was buried in the earth knocking him backward 3 paces as he jerked the pipe out of the ground and took it with him.

Free to scream at last she yelled out for john, realizing only too late as the trainman came after her again, that she might already be dead when he got back, and that she might only be calling him here to find himself as more food for the trainman. Although, she suspected he might be way too much for any trainman anywhere. Individually anyway, she was thankful they didn’t hunt in packs. That might keep her alive right now, she considered all this as she ducked down and drove forward piling her shoulder into his stomach, hoping that the work she had done on it earlier and the stronger blow would have a harder effect on him.

Sure enough, the pipe dropped a second time when his back, and then his head respectively struck a tree that she slammed him into, cracking against them with a good deal more force than they were quite properly designed to handle in an everyday course of events. He made it pretty obvious too by how loud he yelled out a line of profanity that didn’t make much sense.

“ Troublesome day-vile “, the words grunted out of his mouth as he brought his knee up into her chest, knocking her backwards onto the ground. He was quick as lightning to jump down onto her and straddle her till her arms were pinned to the hard ground beneath her.

“ I’m gonna make this as painful as I can you stupid little fishy “, his right fist connected hard with her left cheek, spreading stinging pain across her skin and spotting her vision. “ I’m gonna beat you till you bleed and scream and beg me to just let you out, like I was planen’ on doin’, ye little fish. “

This time it was his left hand and it flew with his whole weight into the front of her face as it tilted to the right. When it connected everything went red and a ringing started in her ears from the blow. A feminine grunt jumped out of her as she struggled underneath him till he kicked a leg and drove his heel into one of her ribs. She was starting to ache all over from the conflict and the ringing in her head was resounding to the point that she couldn’t think or see at all anymore. She hoped the next blow would knock her unconscious.

“ Don’t you think maybe you should be wearing shoes, or are you just showing off? Cause if you are, then I wont be the one to spoil your parade “, she said.

“ I lost them “, he replied without even looking back at her. His mind was buzzing at the moment, and his feet hurt. And worse, how he had lost them the day before had been pretty stupid, as well as not absolutely necessary.

“ Want to talk about it? “, she spoke evenly as he hopped over a fallen tree trunk and landed sure-footedly on the other side only a few moments before she followed his lead perfectly.

“ Not really. “

“ Come on, Johnny boy, we’ve got an awfully long walk and I can’t think of a better way to spend it than hearing. “

“ Well, I would, but we have an awfully long walk, and the more we talk the longer it will take to get where we’re going. ” The words came out of his mouth, but he really didn’t know where they were coming from. He really was in no place to be speaking. His mind was sort of flashing red. Something just felt wrong.

“ Haven’t you ever heard of morale? That logic only works in the short term. “

He noticed that Gabby was doing her best to follow him at his pace. He was jumping logs and all but physically jogging as he marched his way forward to cover as much ground as he could. The way past the city, he knew, all the way around it and not just a part of it here or there, was a very, very long walk and he felt the need to get it done today. So much so that he was ignoring every signal his feet were sending him, he was oblivious to the difficulty she was beginning to have, to almost everything, even the discomfort of the sweat on his body was only background noise. Completely to his shock he found his mind and body working separately again and while he was working he answered her involuntarily again after a long pause, “ I have heard of morale. Trust me. Talking about it won’t do anything good for my morale. “

“ Fair enough. “, she said. Gabby then paused for a second or two before she said, “ I was trying to get a signal. “

“ What? “ This really did get his attention, because while his brain was great for following a consistent conversation automatically, it was no good at seemingly random interjections and subject changes, which required real thought to follow. Unless you wanted to just ask about it, which is what he did.

“ For the repeater, I was trying to get a signal, so that I could maybe have a few words from Gabe if I could get his attention. “

“ When was this? “

“ Last night. That’s where I was all night. I didn’t finish trying till well after four in the morning. “

Some thick underbrush sprang up in front of him and his hand moved without his permission, it loosed his knife and then blurred as it sliced vine and tree limb fiercely and with an involuntary speed that he rarely showed the world he had. It wasn’t the fastest he was capable of; it was the speed he moved when he was relaxed and passive. But a speed that he tried to hide, nonetheless, because it was still faster than most anyone else he’d seen was capable of, unless they’d merely been hiding their skills as well. He never asked, so he never knew. His nerves were on end, with the red flashes in his head, and the memories of the day before, he didn’t have the patience to watch himself. There were changes he felt within himself that would not go unnoticed.

“ Did you get one at all? “, he asked, his arm making long strokes at the cleaner brush that was blocking their path. He noticed her flinch at the question, she didn’t even notice it, he would have bet. People could be so unaware of the things their bodies did without them. He knew people did things subconsciously, but he just couldn’t understand not knowing that you did it.

“ Only a few minutes here and there. As far out as I went there was still too much interference from the city. “ She looked worried as she spoke.

“ Sounds disappointing, why so much work? “

“ We’ve been out so long, I wanted to know if anyone one else was in the area, I wanted news, mostly about Bobby. “ That flinch made its way across her face again. Faster this time, maybe she heard something bad about Bobby.

“ Any luck? “

“ Just enough to find out about Wicker party. Most of it was full of white noise from the city, but they had that info ready. Too ready, considering that I never got a clear enough signal to them to ask about that myself, scratch? “ With that, her expressions became absolutely clear.

“ Scratch, “ he spat. He understood perfectly now. John let his eyes harden. There was a very good chance that something was wrong with the Wicker party. The red flashes went away as he realized what was so tense, he had already known. William was leading the Wicker tent group. John couldn’t remember who was with Will, but all the same, no one was expendable, especially not to John, not today. Not after yesterday. After a second of thinking he slashed his hand out to the side and left the mark of remembrance deeply carved into the bark of a nearby tree. He hoped passionately that there was nothing wrong with Wicker. He could do the harsh work required to survive in the world. But he didn’t have to like it.

Added the ability to comment, if anyone manages to stumble on this story from lord knows where, it would be nice to hear their thoughts. Also, I'm really behind, I didn't hardly write anything at all yesterday, so I need to start pumping out the text. Now for the conclusion of chapter 2:

John saw the shirt lying on the ground, Gabby hadn’t noticed it or thought it odd at all, just as John had let it slip his mind just now. He guessed the shirt had come undone in the night and for the first time all morning me moved fast and quietly after his companion popped her head inside of the second tent and had the shirt in his hand with the drive inside it. A moment later he was in his own tent, safely packing the drive away, with the same shirt as a protective padding inside his own pack, which he slung over his shoulder before backing out of the tent. He wasn’t one to brag about his adventures, he would tell her about it in his own time. She was so impulsive; she’d want to get someplace where they could look at it before it was time to leave. He wondered if she knew that he kept things from her on their expeditions. His ponderings were put to rest after his tent was quickly folded, rolled, tucked away, and hidden behind him slung beneath his pack. It was really a moot point whether she knew or not.

“ I didn’t see you last night “, he said.

“ I was around “, she shot back as she slung the third tent at her side.

“ Where are we headed? “

Gabby stood up straight and scanned the horizon. She was almost certain someone was headed to where they were. She decided quickly, “ South by southwest. I want to cut past the city on the western side; if we head that way we have a good chance of running into Wicker’s tracks. Let’s stay in the woods, I want to stay as hidden as possible. Try not to leave too many tracks. “

“ What makes you think we’ll run into Wicker’s tracks? “

“ Call it woman’s intuition. “

“ That where you were last night? “

Let him guess, she thought as she threw a wink in his direction. It wasn’t where she had been last night, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt to make him think some. She finished the last of her bar, popping the last meat-like bit between her lips. It took her a minute before it occurred to her that he wasn’t asking anymore. She looked at him and wondered, that sort of answer had never satisfied him before.

John’s face was an unreadable slab. If she had offended him, he certainly wasn’t letting on. He looked different today. His expedition yesterday had certainly taken it’s toll on him, it had taken her a while but she eventually noticed the reddening bandages on both feet and the effort he was going through not to limp. She was only barely able to notice the latter. She wondered where his shoes were, and considered asking before she thought the better of it; he would tell her if he thought it was important. After a bit more cross debate with herself, she finally decided on a subtle enough way to bring it up after they had been hiking through the woods for maybe an hour or two. It was hard to tell exactly, it wasn’t the gray of dawn anymore, but it wasn’t full noon yet either.

“ Don’t you think maybe you should be wearing shoes, or are you just showing off? Cause if you are, then I wont be the one to spoil your parade “, she said.

“ I lost them “, he replied without even looking back at her.

“ Want to talk about it? “

“ Not really. “

“ Come on, Johnny boy, we’ve got an awfully long walk and I can’t think of a better way to spend it than hearing. “

“ Well, I would, but we have an awfully long walk, and the more we talk the longer it will take to get where we’re going.”

“ Haven’t you ever heard of morale? That logic only works in the short term. “

John kept up his steady pace without replying to that one. He was hopping logs and covering as much ground as he could. In his bare feet she was having trouble keeping up with him. He had never shown this kind of forward determination before, during their expeditions. He didn’t even look to be breaking a sweat at the extra effort he was exerting. She realized, as she got closer again that it was just her imagination, his skin was getting a hard gloss for the day over the filthy bronze that covered him in the morning. The dustier parts of his skin were actually muddy from the sweat. Before it completely slipped her mind he answered, “ I have heard of morale. Trust me. Talking about it won’t do anything good for my morale. “

“ Fair enough. “ She wasn’t about to push the issue. On the other hand, she really did want to talk about something and if he wasn’t going to make it easy, she might as well take it on herself to do the sharing.

“ I was trying to get a signal “, she told him.

“ What? “

“ For the repeater, I was trying to get a signal, so that I could maybe have a few words from Gabe if I could get his attention. “

“ When was this? “

“ Last night. That’s where I was all night. I didn’t finish trying till well after four in the morning. “

John’s right hand flashed as they came to some thick underbrush and in a blur a small but sharp and well-balanced blade appeared in his hands from a hidden sheath on the belt in his pants. His hands cut through the vines and thorns almost surgically; he’d clearly been practicing lately. She guessed one reason he might not want to talk about the city yesterday. He may have had to kill someone. In all the years she’d known him, he had never warmed to the need for brutality. Most like him died quickly, too quickly. What made him different is his distaste for it didn’t stop him from doing it. It haunted him, and left a look in his eyes that had made finding a partner nearly impossible. If he had been forced to kill yesterday, it would explain too much to brush aside the possibility.

“ Did you get one at all? “, he asked.

“ Only a few minutes here and there. As far out as I went there was still too much interference from the city. “

“ Sounds disappointing, why so much work? “

“ We’ve been out so long, I wanted to know if anyone one else was in the area, I wanted news, mostly about Bobby. “

“ Any luck? “

“ Just enough to find out about Wicker party. Most of it was full of white noise from the city, but they had that info ready. Too ready, considering that I never got a clear enough signal to them to ask about that myself, scratch? “

“ Scratch, “ he spat. John got a hard look in his eye. She hoped she was wrong, but if she wasn’t, this was not going to be the best day of John’s life. He gripped his knife harder and left a mark on a nearby tree as he continued walking, faster than before, even. As she approached, she recognized it, and said the passing prayer. There was no longer doubt in her mind that he had killed. And like her, he highly suspected that the need would come about again soon. Far too soon that he would have to bloody his hands with another’s blood.

After they were clear of the underbrush his hand flashed again, and as quickly as it had appeared, the blade in his hand vanished into its secret little sheath. He hadn’t even been showing off. He was certainly better than her, but it was impossible to tell how much better. She guessed that the speed he had been using it with just now wasn’t as fast as he was capable of, even if it was the fastest she’d ever seen him do.

Gabby sighed inwardly. She was softening up as the morning went on and acceptance sank in about what she knew they had to do. It helped that she had gotten the main reason for their camp change out. He hadn’t taken it well, John didn’t let on about how bad things were; but when things were good, you could always tell how good they were. It was always when you couldn’t see anything at all in his eyes that you knew something wasn’t right. She’d learned a lot about him, and it was this absence that let him see how badly things affected those around them. With no judging how important something was, everyone filtered the problem with his or her own values. He didn’t consciously decide to do it; it was just something that he did.

That let part of her mind rest; it was the bit of familiarity in the ocean of oddities of the morning that let her go on and just ignore everything else while they went on. The chitchat died down pretty much instantly. If he had been in the mood to talk with her, he would have found her in a better mood, but he clearly wasn’t. John was too busy thinking about the Wicker. It let her go on for another two or three hours before the pace got to her. Being in the practice of leading, she let him get too far ahead before she realized that she was going to need a break. After a few moments of catching her breath, she knew it was time to swallow her pride and call after him to slow down and wait for her. But when she looked up, he was out of sight. She felt a little panicked and she opened up her mouth to yell for him to come back but only a single unintelligible syllable escaped before a hand clamped over her mouth from behind. Whatever her mouth had been about to say, her mind let out a burst of profanity at herself. She knew exactly what was happening. And it scared her shitless, because it was too late for her to do a damn thing about it.

In a black of the darkest pitch there was a sharp thud with resounding resonations that were almost sickening. With nothing piercing the emptiness, the dark was endless in its expanse, stretching as far as the imagination could see. But the mind within it was not fooled; it knew there were boundaries. It could emphatically sense them in every fiber of itself. A second thud reverberated through the dark, deliberate and harder, the thuds began repeating themselves rhythmically in the chamber. Like a slow steady heart beat the thuds pounded, one after another, each before the remnants of the last had dyed off as it echoed through the tiny hollow within the structure.

The seemingly final strike was followed instantly by the sound of strike a wall with a space behind it. The word freedom echoed in the trapped mind. The thuds began again, louder this time, the feeling of heavier weight behind them, faster, pounding with determination. The sound of flesh striking cement, packing itself against the wall, repeated itself again and again, as the mind began to feel adrenaline coursing through its body. It echoed the word inside itself again, freedom. The rapid pounding began to be joined by other sounds as the whole blackness seemed filled and alive, dust crashing down from the ceiling, and after an untold amount of time, the sounds of cracking. It’s possible this continued for an hour or more, time doesn’t move in the dark. It breaks minds; they lose patience, when there is no time, that’s when it feels more important than anything else in the world. Light began to stream in a bit at a time. The mind that had begun to grow inside of the dark womb of a room became stronger. The pounding strength in its legs kicked again and again, pain streaking through them as they began to strike edges and crumbles.

Like a holy vision a crack began to spread and grow longer and wider. The light from outside so bright that nothing was distinguishable beyond the brilliant yellowish glow of the crack that seemed to be the only thing in the world. And the kicking didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down. No rest for the weary. Chunks crumbled away, the sounds overloading the senses in combination with the light. The kicking stopped long enough to reposition itself to kick harder.

Another hour and the hard layer of cement was broken through, the dry wall on the other side offered no resistance to the determined bloody feet as they went through it into the area beyond. The man crept to the edge, scooting along the floor without even looking at the now dimly lit room from which he was emerging as he crawled into the light. Dark is infinite and yet more confining that the smallest prison cell, light shows you all your restrictions, all your boundaries, but stepping out of a large dark chamber into a small well lit room is like breaking free from a prison and landing on a beach. The room had no ceiling. To say that isn’t totally accurate. The room did in fact have a ceiling, but it doesn’t really count as it was crumbled and scattered over most of the debris-cluttered floor. He stood up and felt the strong breeze blow over his tanned skin; his matted filthy hair struggled in influence of the weather.

“ Freedom, “ the creed that drove him voiced itself as he started to look down after his eyes had adjusted to the light and saw his own bloody footprints on the floor. He started brushing the muddy cement crumbles and dirt off of his chest and blue jeans. It wasn’t the dirt that bothered him; it was the dirt from the cell from which he’d just broken free of that he wanted off. When he was sufficiently clean of the ashy dust he began to look around. The sky was beginning to turn pink and fiery orange. The room he was in was smallish, but two of its walls were crumbled, which had perhaps led to the collapsed ceiling, or been, in part, caused by it. He worked his way over the rubble and walked to the edge of the room, toward the worse of the two walls and looked over the edge of the floor down the five-story drop to the ground below. It wasn’t going to be easy getting back down.

He walked back to the hole he had made in the wall and reached only his left arm in as he pressed his face flat against the remaining dry wall and felt along the floor inside until his fingers touched the edge of what he had left inside. He pulled the hard-drive out of the dark and then he stood up and examined the other solid wall that led presumably to another part of the building, maybe one with a way out. He was in luck, as this room had a door, even though it was locked, it was made out of wood that was wearing down with age and only took a single strong brutal strike from his shoulder to rip the obstacle out of the frame that held it in place falling right after and landing on top of the ripped wood himself, barely managing not to drop the drive that he clutched in his right hand. A cluster of pigeons were disturbed by the violent act and fluttered with great haste in a brilliant white flurry out of the few windows and holes in the ceiling before his head lifted off of the door.

The next door was unlocked and led into a dank and humid hallway. He had to prop the exit open with cement rocks to keep it from shutting and cutting off most of the light in the room. Every few feet there was another door and a tiny muddy window letting in a hint of light, giving him all he needed to navigate by and avoid the worst of the objects on the floor with his feet. Walking from window to window he searched till he found what he was looking for, a locker room. The door was unlocked and there were some rotten smelling clothes laying about. He grabbed a suitably strong looking shirt that had not suffered from too much decay and wrapped his prize up in it and tied it around his waist. There was no knowing if he might need both hands free later and none of his pockets were free to carry it. He tried to pull open the other lockers, but the ones that were not locked were already empty except for junk. Curses slipped under his breath, he should have come here more prepared, prepared to break out of things and into other things. A simple crow bar would have meant that his feet would be healed and all of these lockers would be open for his taking. There wasn’t enough time to stress, he had to hurry, and when he had come from the exposed rooms the sun had already been starting to sink. A stairwell had to be nearby and needed to be found. Both feet hurt like hell, but it would not slow him down.

Sure enough the stairwell was in a little offshoot of the main corridor and was well lit because it was mostly open to the outdoors. Sunset was in full bloom and he ran down the stairs as cautiously as he could without wasting a single moment. He allowed himself only to flinch as tiny pebbles dug their way into his bleeding souls whenever he failed to see them before landing his feet on them. At the bottom of the stairwell there was no need to explore any more of the building as the wall had crumbled enough to get through. He gripped the aging bricks with held his weight firmly and hoisted himself up pulling out and falling onto the ground on the other side, twisting in the air to land on his hip into some overly tall grass, a nasty bruise would be there the next day; but his prize was safe from the impact and that was all that mattered. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if he had known that the toy wrapped up in his makeshift fanny sack could easily have survived his weight land. The old things hardly ever lived up to what they were supposed to have been able to do anymore and this was the sort of important claim that was not worth leaving to that chance.

He stood up, his head beginning to feel light, he had not had anything to eat all day and his blood was starting to feel thin as his vision spaced, before his heart could catch up and keep the flow of oxygen to his head. His senses returned and his bearings settled. He knew where he was, he hadn’t actually been right here, but he knew which side of the building he was on. He looked back behind him at the hole in the wall, before turning and running on the soothing grass, as brittle and thin as it was it was, it was clean and devoid of pebbles that were not easily avoided and he made it around the building and into the streets beyond, small broken buildings on either side of any street. He went to the building right across the street and picked up the things he’d left behind. Before throwing on his backpack he pulled out a couple of rags and his canteen and washed the wounds on his feet and wrapped the cloth rags around them protectively. If he didn’t get some disinfectant within the next few hours his feet would be very uncomfortable for a few days. It wouldn’t kill him; but the man definitely had a preference.

Night was falling all too quickly and if he didn’t hurry he would be forced to sleep in the city. He ran to his bicycle, kicking off skillfully and pedaling away down the street navigating between buildings and over abandoned boards. A few of them looked to be as if they might have had remnants living in them. It was still theoretically possible to get off-world, the technology certainly existed; however, in reality, no one who was earthbound would ever be able to earn what they needed to leave. On top of that, you had to want to leave, even if you had the money to do it. He brushed a strand of oily hair from his face. That thought always comforted him, and made him feel less alone. There were always others, here and there. For some of them, it was as much choice as providence. It was home to all of mankind. It was a shame to think, that now, most of mankind has never even seen this place.

He pedaled quickly as the night sky took over for the day and just as he rode past the last two or three houses on the edge of the city the last tinge of dark crimson was all that was left in the sky. After about another three minutes he realized that the darkness would actually help him now as he kept his eyes open for the campfire he knew would be in a nearby field. He pedaled straight, the road still visible in the purplish evening, with the last of the warm colors gone from the world. It was another ten minutes before he saw it off in the distance and he made straight for it, putting his whole back into the effort.

It was only a short while before he could see the tents around the fire, three domed tents glistening with the firelight dancing on their dusty exteriors. Anyone at the fire must be on the far side, or he would have seen their silhouette. If they stayed there he would be blinded from the area beyond the fire ring by the light until long after he was visible to them. The empty field was all unwelcoming earth and clay and sand and would host no living thing, which kept the ride from being too difficult, but there was no path and things were faster with him walking the bike beside him more often than not.

He was able to feel the warmth of the fire before he was able to see for certain that no one was nearby outside of the tents. Gabrielle must have wandered off, because she would never have gone to sleep with the fire still going. He checked the embers by poking them with a sturdy still living stick; and hoping that perhaps prepared food might be cooking in them.

No such luck, he thought as he looked up from the fire, disappointed. It wouldn’t kill him to fix some food for himself, after he bandaged his feet properly and disinfected while he waited. The darkness had finally completed itself as he finally sat and began readying his food.

Chapter 2

No one has ever found it pleasant to be woken up by a swift kick to the kidneys, and the man was no exception. When a woman, similar in appearance and height, her hair black and matted her eyes a dull gray, her clothes consisted of a pair of grimy loose fitting blue jeans and a mud browned sports bra, connected her heel with the side of his body, vulnerable and exposed in his sleep, he woke up with a hard yell.

“ Hey, John. Sleep well? “ She glared down at him while he rolled over without groaning. John rolled over and was up in a flash before she could go on. “ Must have been tired last night, you didn’t sleep in a tent and you let the fire go out on its own. Getting a death wish in your old age? “

“ Good morning Gabby, missed you last night. Had been expecting you to be here when I got back, “ he spoke almost but not quite hastily and in concise spurts as he walked around the campfire avoiding her. His eyes flitted around at the ground, clearly avoiding eye contact as he distanced himself from her.

“ Well for someone who missed me, you’re not acting very glad to see me, “ she spat as she got on her knees and opened up her tent and ducked inside.

“ Not that. Rough night. Rough morning. Enough cuts and bruises to keep me happy for a day or two. And, well, you know me, I’m just mister excitement, “ he said while she was rooting around the things in her tent. Before she came out, his eyes found the city on the horizon and lifted up off the ground almost lifting his chin up as he traced with his eyes, as his last sentence came out in an almost normal even tone.

“ Suck it up, John. There’s no excuse to leave the fire going, anyone could have seen it burning from at least a mile away, worse, from the city. Probably plenty of people did see it. Maybe we’re lucky and no one who cares saw it, “ without even pausing as she spoke a foil wrapped bar flew out of her tent and struck John in the back of his head and tumbled down to the ground over his dust covered back while she continued, “ or maybe we’re just lucky enough that no one who cares saw it and felt like doing anything about it last night and is on their way right now. Eat fast because we’re moving camp. “ When a full second passed, as John just turned and looked at the ration bar on the ground, she spoke sharply, “ Now! “

John moved quicker, but not quickly as he rotated on his heels and kneeled down to pick up the bar, he peeled the foil off of it and took a healthy bite from the end. Gabby emerged from her tent with her pack slung on her back and the tent collapsed behind her. In less than 5 minutes, and still before John had finished his ration bar, which he seemed to be eating at a deliberately slow pace, although with John you could never be tell if he was being slow, or thinking deep, her tent was wrapped up and packed in a sling that fit comfortably beneath the pack already on her back as she fitted it there.

John saw the shirt laying on the ground, Gabby hadn’t noticed it or thought it odd at all, just as John had let it slip his mind just now. He guessed the shirt had come undone in the night and for the first time all morning me moved fast and quietly after his companion popped her head inside of the second tent and had the shirt in his hand with the drive inside it. A moment later he was in his own tent, safely packing the drive away, with the same shirt as a protective padding inside his own pack, which he slung over his shoulder before backing out of the tent. He wasn’t one to brag about his adventures, he would tell her about it in his own time. She was so impulsive; she’d want to get someplace where they could look at it before it was time to leave. He wondered if she knew that he kept things from her on their expeditions. His ponderings were put to rest after his tent was quickly folded, rolled, tucked away, and hidden behind him slung beneath his pack. It was really a moot point whether she knew or not.

Only got two pages done today, so far. That's not enough if I want to reach the 55,000 page deadline. I'm going to work at home tonight and post another 3-4 if I can, and work harder on it tomorrow. I'll post what I have now, though, for the sake of progress. I am going to update this every workday and every weekend that I don't keep up with my goals every day of the week. at the very least I have to get 2 more pages done even if I do 4 pages every day on the weekend. I'm looking to overshoot 55,000. Anyway, here's the beginning of chapter 1.

A History Lost in a World Forgotten

Chapter 1: Expedition's End

In a black of the darkest pitch there was a sharp thud with resounding resonations that were almost sickening. With nothing piercing the emptiness, the dark was endless in its expanse, stretching as far as the imagination could see. But the mind within it was not fooled; it knew there were boundaries. It could emphatically sense them in every fiber of itself. A second thud reverberated through the dark, deliberate and harder, the thuds began repeating themselves rhythmically in the chamber. Like a slow steady heart beat the thuds pounded, one after another, each before the remnants of the last had dyed off as it echoed through the tiny hollow within the structure.

The seemingly final strike was followed instantly by the sound of strike a wall with a space behind it. The word freedom echoed in the trapped mind. The thuds began again, louder this time, the feeling of heavier weight behind them, faster, pounding with determination. The sound of flesh striking cement, packing itself against the wall, repeated itself again and again, as the mind began to feel adrenaline coursing through its body. It echoed the word inside itself again, freedom. The rapid pounding began to be joined by other sounds as the whole blackness seemed filled and alive, dust crashing down from the ceiling, and after an untold amount of time, the sounds of cracking. It’s possible this continued for an hour or more, time doesn’t move in the dark. It breaks minds; they lose patience, when there is no time, that’s when it feels more important than anything else in the world. Light began to stream in a bit at a time. The mind that had begun to grow inside of the dark womb of a room became stronger. The pounding strength in its legs kicked again and again, pain streaking through them as they began to strike edges and crumbles.

Like a holy vision a crack began to spread and grow longer and wider. The light from outside so bright that nothing was distinguishable beyond the brilliant yellowish glow of the crack that seemed to be the only thing in the world. And the kicking didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down. No rest for the weary. Chunks crumbled away, the sounds overloading the senses in combination with the light. The kicking stopped long enough to reposition itself to kick harder.

Another hour and the hard layer of cement was broken through, the dry wall on the other side offered no resistance to the determined bloody feet as they went through it into the area beyond. The man crept to the edge, scooting along the floor without even looking at the now dimly lit room from which he was emerging as he crawled into the light. Dark is infinite and yet more confining that the smallest prison cell, light shows you all your restrictions, all your boundaries, but stepping out of a large dark chamber into a small well lit room is like breaking free from a prison and landing on a beach. The room had no ceiling. To say that isn’t totally accurate. The room did in fact have a ceiling, but it doesn’t really count as it was crumbled and scattered over most of the debris-cluttered floor. He stood up and felt the strong breeze blow over his tanned skin; his matted filthy hair struggled in influence of the weather.

“ Freedom, “ the creed that drove him voiced itself as he started to look down after his eyes had adjusted to the light and saw his own bloody footprints on the floor. He started brushing the muddy cement crumbles and dirt off of his chest and blue jeans. It wasn’t the dirt that bothered him; it was the dirt from the cell from which he’d just broken free of that he wanted off. When he was sufficiently clean of the ashy dust he began to look around. The sky was beginning to turn pink and fiery orange. The room he was in was smallish, but two of its walls were crumbled, which had perhaps led to the collapsed ceiling, or been, in part, caused by it. He worked his way over the rubble and walked to the edge of the room, toward the worse of the two walls and looked over the edge of the floor down the five-story drop to the ground below. It wasn’t going to be easy getting back down.

He walked back to the hole he had made in the wall and reached only his left arm in as he pressed his face flat against the remaining dry wall and felt along the floor inside until his fingers touched the edge of what he had left inside. He pulled the hard-drive out of the dark and then he stood up and examined the other solid wall that led presumably to another part of the building, maybe one with a way out. He was in luck, as this room had a door, even though it was locked, it was made out of wood that was wearing down with age and only took a single strong brutal strike from his shoulder to rip the obstacle out of the frame that held it in place falling right after and landing on top of the ripped wood himself, barely managing not to drop the drive that he clutched in his right hand. A cluster of pigeons were disturbed by the violent act and fluttered with great haste in a brilliant white flurry out of the few windows and holes in the ceiling before his head lifted off of the door.

The next door was unlocked and led into a dank and humid hallway. He had to prop the exit open with cement rocks to keep it from shutting and cutting off most of the light in the room. Every few feet there was another door and a tiny muddy window letting in a hint of light, giving him all he needed to navigate by and avoid the worst of the objects on the floor with his feet. Walking from window to window he searched till he found what he was looking for, a locker room. The door was unlocked and there were some rotten smelling clothes laying about. He grabbed a suitably strong looking shirt that had not suffered from too much decay and wrapped his prize up in it and tied it around his waist. There was no knowing if he might need both hands free later and none of his pockets were free to carry it. He tried to pull open the other lockers, but the ones that were not locked were already empty except for junk. Curses slipped under his breath, he should have come here more prepared, prepared to break out of things and into other things. A simple crow bar would have meant that his feet would be healed and all of these lockers would be open for his taking. There wasn’t enough time to stress, he had to hurry, and when he had come from the exposed rooms the sun had already been starting to sink. A stairwell had to be nearby and needed to be found. Both feet hurt like hell, but it would not slow him down.

Sure enough the stairwell was in a little offshoot of the main corridor and was well lit because it was mostly open to the outdoors. Sunset was in full bloom and he ran down the stairs as cautiously as he could without wasting a single moment. He allowed himself only to flinch as tiny pebbles dug their way into his bleeding souls whenever he failed to see them before landing his feet on them. At the bottom of the stairwell there was no need to explore any more of the building as the wall had crumbled enough to get through. He gripped the aging bricks with held his weight firmly and hoisted himself up pulling out and falling onto the ground on the other side, twisting in the air to land on his hip into some overly tall grass, a nasty bruise would be there the next day; but his prize was safe from the impact and that was all that mattered. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if he had known that the toy wrapped up in his makeshift fanny sack could easily have survived his weight land. The old things hardly ever lived up to what they were supposed to have been able to do anymore and this was the sort of important claim that was not worth leaving to that chance.

In a black of the darkest pitch there was a sharp thud with resounding resonations that were almost sickening. With nothing piercing the emptiness, the dark was endless in its expanse, stretching as far as the imagination could see. But the mind within it was not fooled; it knew there were boundaries. It could emphatically sense them in every fiber of itself. A second thud reverberated through the dark, deliberate and harder, the thuds began repeating themselves rhythmically in the chamber. Like a slow steady heart beat the thuds pounded, one after another, each before the remnants of the last had dyed off as it echoed through the tiny hollow within the structure.

The seemingly final strike was followed instantly by the sound of strike a wall with a space behind it. The word freedom echoed in the trapped mind. The thuds began again, louder this time, the feeling of heavier weight behind them, faster, pounding with determination. The sound of flesh striking cement, packing itself against the wall, repeated itself again and again, as the mind began to feel adrenaline coursing through its body. It echoed the word inside itself again, freedom. The rapid pounding began to be joined by other sounds as the whole blackness seemed filled and alive, dust crashing down from the ceiling, and after an untold amount of time, the sounds of cracking. It’s possible this continued for an hour or more, time doesn’t move in the dark. It breaks minds; they lose patience, when there is no time, that’s when it feels more important than anything else in the world. Light began to stream in a bit at a time. The mind that had begun to grow inside of the dark womb of a room became stronger. The pounding strength in its legs kicked again and again, pain streaking through them as they began to strike edges and crumbles.

Like a holy vision a crack began to spread and grow longer and wider. The light from outside so bright that nothing was distinguishable beyond the brilliant yellowish glow of the crack that seemed to be the only thing in the world. And the kicking didn’t stop. It didn’t even slow down. No rest for the weary. Chunks crumbled away, the sounds overloading the senses in combination with the light. The kicking stopped long enough to reposition itself to kick harder.

Another hour and the hard layer of cement was broken through, the dry wall on the other side offered no resistance to the determined bloody feet as they went through it into the area beyond. The man crept to the edge, scooting along the floor without even looking at the now dimly lit room from which he was emerging as he crawled into the light. Dark is infinite and yet more confining that the smallest prison cell, light shows you all your restrictions, all your boundaries, but stepping out of a large dark chamber into a small well lit room is like breaking free from a prison and landing on a beach. The room had no ceiling. To say that isn’t totally accurate. The room did in fact have a ceiling, but it doesn’t really count as it was crumbled and scattered over most of the debris-cluttered floor. He stood up and felt the strong breeze blow over his tanned skin; his matted filthy hair struggled in influence of the weather.

“ Freedom, “ the creed that drove him voiced itself as he started to look down after his eyes had adjusted to the light and saw his own bloody footprints on the floor. He started brushing the muddy cement crumbles and dirt off of his chest and blue jeans. It wasn’t the dirt that bothered him; it was the dirt from the cell from which he’d just broken free of that he wanted off. When he was sufficiently clean of the ashy dust he began to look around. The sky was beginning to turn pink and fiery orange. The room he was in was smallish, but two of its walls were crumbled, which had perhaps led to the collapsed ceiling, or been, in part, caused by it. He worked his way over the rubble and walked to the edge of the room, toward the worse of the two walls and looked over the edge of the floor down the five-story drop to the ground below. It wasn’t going to be easy getting back down.

He walked back to the hole he had made in the wall and reached only his left arm in as he pressed his face flat against the remaining dry wall and felt along the floor inside until his fingers touched the edge of what he had left inside. He pulled the hard-drive out of the dark and then he stood up and examined the other solid wall that led presumably to another part of the building, maybe one with a way out. He was in luck, as this room had a door, even though it was locked, it was made out of wood that was wearing down with age and only took a single strong brutal strike from his shoulder to rip the obstacle out of the frame that held it in place falling right after and landing on top of the ripped wood himself, barely managing not to drop the drive that he clutched in his right hand. A cluster of pigeons were disturbed by the violent act and fluttered with great haste in a brilliant white flurry out of the few windows and holes in the ceiling before his head lifted off of the door.

The next door was unlocked and led into a dank and humid hallway. He had to prop the exit open with cement rocks to keep it from shutting and cutting off most of the light in the room. Every few feet there was another door and a tiny muddy window letting in a hint of light, giving him all he needed to navigate by and avoid the worst of the objects on the floor with his feet. Walking from window to window he searched till he found what he was looking for, a locker room. The door was unlocked and there were some rotten smelling clothes laying about. He grabbed a suitably strong looking shirt that had not suffered from too much decay and wrapped his prize up in it and tied it around his waist. There was no knowing if he might need both hands free later and none of his pockets were free to carry it. He tried to pull open the other lockers, but the ones that were not locked were already empty except for junk. Curses slipped under his breath, he should have come here more prepared, prepared to break out of things and into other things. A simple crow bar would have meant that his feet would be healed and all of these lockers would be open for his taking. There wasn’t enough time to stress, he had to hurry, and when he had come from the exposed rooms the sun had already been starting to sink. A stairwell had to be nearby and needed to be found. Both feet hurt like hell, but it would not slow him down.

Sure enough the stairwell was in a little offshoot of the main corridor and was well lit because it was mostly open to the outdoors. Sunset was in full bloom and he ran down the stairs as cautiously as he could without wasting a single moment. He allowed himself only to flinch as tiny pebbles dug their way into his bleeding souls whenever he failed to see them before landing his feet on them. At the bottom of the stairwell there was no need to explore any more of the building as the wall had crumbled enough to get through. He gripped the aging bricks with held his weight firmly and hoisted himself up pulling out and falling onto the ground on the other side, twisting in the air to land on his hip into some overly tall grass, a nasty bruise would be there the next day; but his prize was safe from the impact and that was all that mattered. It probably wouldn’t have mattered if he had known that the toy wrapped up in his makeshift fanny sack could easily have survived his weight land. The old things hardly ever lived up to what they were supposed to have been able to do anymore and this was the sort of important claim that was not worth leaving to that chance.

Well, I'm sure you'll all notice the google text ad less than an inch above this very post(if you're reading this when it's still the most recent post.). Maybe some people will see something interesting in the advertisements and click on them. That would be fascinating and I might even make a little bit of spending money off of it if enough people do over time. All the more reason for me to keep this updated and to talk about things people can buy. Perhaps this will be incentive to restart my comic strip.

However, for today, I will begin a story which I will tell in order instead of random fragments. Today, the prologue will only have themeatic connections to the overall story, which I have just named, A History Lost in a World Forgotten, while registering this. In a world that isn't so much post appocolyptic as it is a place that has simply moved on, many of the remnants are looking for a history for themselves, but more importantly a future as the evidence they find begins to sugguest that, without a change, they will begin to dwindle and fade away in the world their short term ancestors stayed behind in. I really just decided what themes to write about on the spur of the moment when I wrote teh prologue. I decided to register this as a NaNoBlogMo site and they sugguested posting a short description and a title, so now I have both of those, post prologue. So for the next month, you're not getting anything but story. I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Now after the heavy editing and the addition of almost the entire previous paragraph, let's get this show on the road:


Prologue: How the Bee Got Her Sting

In the time of the gods, the queen of all queen bees lived, and commanded all her people. They were a vast people, who were hardworking and who daily produced the precious honey that all men and beasts loved to snack on. Often, their hard work would go in vein as the men, the cleverest of all their enemies, were so successful at stealing her people's honey. Their hives would be left in ruins and often many of people mortaly injured. As time went on, it became clear to the Queen Bee that her people would eventually begin to dwindle as man grew in strength and number and hunger for the product of her people's nobel work.

After much thought and great deliberation, the Queen Bee told her queens to gather for her a crop of their finest honey. The honey that was gathered by the generals of the Queen's royal court was of such splendor that no crop of honey has ever again been seen or tasted. It was, and is, without equal, for the bees of old were masters of the craft and even today, despite the dilligence of the bees throughout all of history, secrets have been forgotten and while they do their best, this grand nectar can only be imagined.

When hew orders had been carried out, she had her royal courts generals carry the honey behind her as she set out, warning that she might not return, but that her journey was, she felt, the only hope of her people. She told no one of her destination, but the loyal generals followed her without question, because she was a wise and generous leader and none ever needed to question her actions. They traveled behind her for many days, and without food or hive to care for them, they began to grow week. They traveled to the base of mount Olympus and began to travel up it. It was hard going and their quest was longer than they had even traveled. And despite their trust, the generals questioned whether they would have the strength to return home. But they continued on, in service of their people.

At the end of their travels the Queen Bee led them to the very peak of mount Olympus, and the great pantheon, the home of Zeus and all his kind. She led them all the way to the feet of the great Zeus, who was sleeping ever so soundly. She kneeled down before him and her generals followed her lead, unable even to remain standing had they not wished to. Before he woke, they had died of exhaustion, leaving the Queen Bee alone at his feet. He very nearly stepped on her when he stirred from his rest and as soon as he noticed her he kindly asked her of the business for which she had come and how he could help her, overly kind even for the small tinge of guilt he felt for having almost squashed a mortal being, as he had a great love of all mortals and their doings.

" Great and merciful Zeus, king of the gods and friend to all beasts and men(the race of men were the pride of Zeus and were by far his favorite of all mortals), I come before you humbly at the end of a great journey and at the expense, you see, of my greatest and strongest generals, the only ones great enough to make such a journy, and I greet you and kneel before you. I also bring you a simple gift, a mere token of my people's love for you, " she spoke with a silver tongue, the likes of which has never again been heard from a bee. Even if it were, such long winded offerings have not landed on kind ears for over a century and only apeal to those of terribly unreasonable egos. The gods, of course, did have terribly unreasonably sized egos, and such flattery never tired them.

The Queen Bee then gestured to the honey behind her between the guards who had sacrificed themselves to bring the offering such a great distance. It's golden texture captured the light of the sun that was now setting bringing tints of purple and orange into the sky behind her as she lay kneeled before the feet of the king of the gods. Even to Zeus, the offering appeared beyond compare and he leaned forward to dip his finger into it and pull from it a slight sample, it was as smooth as cream and he brought it to his lips. The taste was beyond that of even the food of Olympus, and it filled him with pleasure. So pleased was he that he impulsively decided to grant the Queen Bee a gift in return.

" Most loyal and obedient of beasts and Queen of all Queen Bees, your offering pleases me, what would you have of me in return? I will grant a single wish of yours with pleasure, " his voice boomed and the Queen Bee trembled, for she knew that Zeus would be displeased with her request. I had to be done, too much had been sacrificed to return empty handed. Her greatest fear, was that he would not grant her wish.

" Oh, lord Zeus, who is even more kind and generous than I could have imagined, I have such a simple request, and yet it is of great importance to all of my people. As time goes on and we strive to make our precious honey, my people are being destroyed so that our labors might be stolen by man and beast. As the strength and numbers of men grows, so does their hunger for our honey. My request is ever so small, I wish for a poisoned stinger for all my people, that we might defend ourselves from the greedy hands of the cleverest and hungriest of all mortals, man. "

While the Queen Bee spoke her peace, Zeus' vision grew red with rage. As has been said, man was his favorite of all mortal things, and he took careful interests in their affairs, and here a beast and seeming enemy of man had requested from him, their greatest benefactor, a weapon to use against the race of men. He would not go back on his word, he had made an offer, and nothing was going to give him pause to even consider losing face and going back on his word. Only when he thought of a suitable solution, long after the Queen Bee finished speaking, after she had layed before him, trembling with fear that he would deny her request, did he speak to her. And he did so with the utmost respect.

" Noble and loyal Queen, I will grant your request, you, and all your people, shall have your stings. However, they will not come without great cost to you. All your lives will be bound to your stingers and when you bury them in the flesh of man to drive him away, you will do so at the expense of your life, " he spoke evenly as the bitterness sunk into her at the condition of his favor, after all that her request had already cost her.

With the last of her failing strength she flew to him and stung his toe.

Well, just when I thought there were no more REALLY interesting movies coming along for the year, I mean, aside from the comedies that look funny but not truly intruiging despite their obvious quality, I am totally surprised while browsing the movies that are already out. Will wonders never cease?

The weekend quickly approches. There are many plans, I have homework on friday, class and army recruiter to talk to on saturday morning and a lan party that evening, and a bbq to attend on sunday.

The desert wind blew and bits of sand danced and ricochetted off of the hood that protected the traveler's eyes. The sand of the dunes curled between the dried toes as the cloaked figure stepped carefully and deliberately deeper and deeper into the desert in the dark. It was many days still before those sandaled feet, dry and cracked from the heat and sand and harsh sun would carry the figure across the heart of the land and begin the trek to the land on the far side of the fiery ocean of sand. It was a journey made many times, and the hardships were not unexpected, but they were hardships none the less.

What little light the traveler had was from the rising sun, within the hour it would be over the horizon. Soon it would be time to burrow into the sand and sleep till the following evening in the uncomfortable sweaty filthy heat beneath the sand. Sand is mystical in its nature to get everywhere, no matter how secure the location.

Wolves of the Calla is grabbing my interest, but taking its time doing so. Half Life 2 is Gold and should be out on the 16 of next month. I'm hungry. Played more heroscape against joe last night. Kicked his ass twice. Had tons of fun. Going to play a different game tonight, hopefully system shock 2 with george. Dawn of War is finally here. Should be a ton of fun. I'll see you all when the games give me back sometime next year.

On a whim I decided today that I understood that all things were true. Even false things. You get around with playing with the idea of this in your head while you're eating hot dog buns on a friday just to keep from conforming and you start to feel special. Like Dustin Hoffman special as the Rainman. But you don't really care. Eating hot dog buns on friday helps you not care about that sort of thing.

Either way, it's happiness. I think.

I only just this minute finished reading the daVinci Code. It should be known, before I disclose my thoughts, that I am a voice of the secrets of the illuminati. I am, in fact, illuminati. Maybe that means something to you, maybe it doesn't. If you don't know how it works, I really can't tell you. I mean, I can tell you that absolutely everything is true. But you really wouldn't believe me, and maybe you won't even know the proper response. I'm not much of one for secrets and so this is the only secret I've ever kept. It helps that the nature of it is that the very best way to hide it is to tell everyone you can. It helps if you understand the nature of truth. I could ramble for an hour about it and you may get it and you may not get any more than what I've given you in this first paragraph. Largely immaterial, either way. And more over it isn't the focus of this post, just interesting side note. How often do the ultimate secrets of history and truth find themselves as interesting side notes you might ask? More often than you would ever believe if you don't understand.

Anyway, I liked most of the book. There were two points in it where I felt the author was just being cheap, and in so doing, narrowed some things that really should have been wider. In my version of the story, the identity of the teacher is someone else and the... well, I can't actually spoil what happens, so, suffice it to say, I have a better version in my head. I read the story and now it is mine to do with as I please in the realm of my mind. I very much like Dan Brown's alternate history of the world. It certainly fits. But always take note, history is but a poem agreed upon. And even then it skips bits. There are alternate alternate histories. If you find one you like, don't stop looking for others.

What I mean to say, is the book is good, and it gives a taste of something to people that they may never get to taste again, despite it being within their power to do so. Anyone who liked this book, and has the tolerance to stand much more daunting texts should also read Focault's Pendulum.

I have used special clandestine tools to create my great anti-hero, Le Canadienne. Behold his mighty arms and the dark Squirrel that rests ominously on his shoulder. Quiver at the knowledge that he is friends with the satanic clan, rodentia.

I bought Dawn of War last night, and Gauntlet: Dark Legacy today. They are both in the mail to me ready to be played by all my friends upon their arival..

I also finally sent thank you emails to both my grandparents and my aunt for the birthday presents they sent me. I love all my family and I feel so bad for waiting so long.

Well, that's about all I have to say today. I've actually been filling up my time rather well today and so I'm getting ready to go and I still have much reading to do.

Last night Joe and George were over, and we ACTUALLY beat Final Fantasy: Crystal Chronicles. God, that game has been laying around for so long, we haven't been able to finish it because we needed 2 players. Anyway, the end wasn't worth it, but, it was REALLY good to finally beat the game and get it done. Only took 1 and a half hours.

w00t... I get paid today. That's always nice. I think I'll be spending a chunk of it on dawn of war with George and Joe splitting it with me, 10 bucks a piece.

Anyway, I'm gone, peace out.

Reading more of the DaVinci Code. Excellent book, moves very fast. Almost halfway through it. Christopher Reeve, greatest superman ever, is dead. Being lorded by John Kerry as a personal friend and used as an example of why Bush is wrong for his policies on stem cell research. Disgusting really.

Other than that, not much is happening. Marcia's mother is in the E.R. so I won't be hanging out with her tonight, didn't get to hang out with George last night cause it was too late, Chris.. is always playing everquest.

Back to the book.

Adieu.

Wow, this is the first weekend in a very long time that I didn't do anything with anyone. I got my homework done at 2:30 on friday night, went to school saturday morning, came home and went right to sleep, slept till six, got up and went to diner, came right back home and played games till I went to sleep at 2 am. It was a good day. Then on sunday, I did do something. Went to go visit my mom, it was her birthday on friday. I love her very much and I worry about her a lot cause she doesn't seem to understand some things and now she's married to a guy who I don't think is right for her. But she's put herself someplace where there's nothing I can do to help her. Oh well. That's life I guess.

I came home, Mike had talked about going to book stores, but that fell through, so I just played games and then crashed at my usual 2 am.

Very peacefull weekend. I still haven't opened up tribes. Tempted to take it back and buy it another time. Maybe I'll do that tonight. It's fifty bucks that I could use for something else. Oh well. Getting further in Leisure Suit Larry. It is by far one of the most horrid games ever, but it is extremely amusing. I'm glad I didn't buy it on a console, it's not worth fifty. But it is passably amusing for 30 dollars. I'm going to get back to reading the daVinci Code now... pretty good book. I'll keep you informed.

Alison moaned loudly as she squeezed her eyes shut, intensely aware of the feeling throughout her entire body as she moved back and forth on top of the man she had between her spread thighs. A large bead of sweat trickled down her spine and more watered down her forehead and cheeks and down her neck and over her breast as she heaved great gasping breathes. The man had her left breast in his strong right hand and he was squeezing, and pulling sharply on her erect nipple.

Last night I went to go see Shaun of the Dead with George, Joe, Kayla and Marcia. I found it to be a VERY enjoyable movie. Using both cheesy situations and jokes as well as having no fear to actually have interesting characters die. Some real emotion was in the story here or there and some decent zombie thrills mixed in with the jokes about the genre as a whole.

After that I played a great deal of Leisure Suit Larry, and Crystal Chronicles with Joe. Joe and I got farther than we have EVER gotten before in CC, and it was a ton of fun. But we ultimately lost after putting in 2 and a half hours of work with lots of very time consuming progress and ultimately never reaching a single save point. This is the most disgusting thing that a game has ever done. There should NEVER be a segment so long as even an hour where you cannot save. 30 minutes is too long. 10 minutes is arguably too long, but exceptions can be made for a very select few games. 2 hours is WAY more than 10 minutes. It really pissed me off. But Leisure Suit Larry was amusing. The entire game is centered around mini games though, and not particularly good ones. So you ultimately get left with the feel that the only redeeming value of the whole thing is the humor which is pretty good. I wish they'd made an adventure game though. I would trade one tiny inventory puzzle, etc, for 10 of those stupid mini games. And let me tell you... they have the mini games to spare. Some of the Dance Dance Revolution style puzzles require you to move WAY too fast though, and it gets infuriating.

Cest' la vie.

Tonight, I'll play more of the game.

Hikarunix was a total failure last night. It really sucks, so many hours and I never got it to work in my computer. I don't have an extra nec card for it, and... eh, forget it.

Today I feel filled with sadness and boredom. There is nothing for me to do. I would like very much to sleep.

I bought Leisure Suit Larry.

Woohoo! I got my wonderful Hikarunix distro of knoppix linux live! It came yesterday along with a 64mb thumb drive. I am so very happy, I finally have a thumb drive which now affords me file storage and transfer options that I've never had before. Trouble is that Knoppix(and by extention, Hikarunix) doesnt support nforce2 boards ethernet or sound drivers. They exist for linux users, but because of the small size of Hikarunix, there is no Kernell source files on the distro. So... the lack of a binary for it is a nice little roadblock, as the files to compile what I can get aren't there. I'll get it working eventually, probably tonight in fact, Scott has been helping me and has offered to compile for me and send to me. I have already been enjoying some of the Go tools and I really can't wait to get everything up and running. Oh well, all the more fun to play with it all night again tonight. Looks like another 5 am bedtime for me.

I guess this isn't news to anyone, but Mt St. Helen's has gone off again. No where near as impressive as the last time. Of course, last time it went off was one of the all time larger singular events in the history of the world. It literally did what all the nukes in the world might not have done. It blew the top off a mountain.

In other news the X-Prize has finally been won. I was voting for John Carmack, but, since he was too busy with Doom 3, the prize goes to SpaceshipOne. SpaceshipOne made the flight today with a second pilot as opposed to the one who has been flying her. This is the second flight within the qualifying time to achieve space carrying the equivalent weight of 3 human beings. Lord only knows what they packed in there with the pilot that was the weight of 3 human beings, possibly 400 or 450 lbs of skittles. Congradulations to them, and their two pilots who are the first civilians in space.

We grilled this weekend and we had a lan party and watched movies and went to the laugh stop and had a grand old time. Kicked George's pretty little ass at Lords of the Realm III. That's all I have to say about that.

Well, just so you all know, I really do like Star Wars: Galaxies. I'll probably never play it again, but I like it. I don't know why I like it; by all means, there are certainly many reasons why I shouldn't, but I do. Making an MMORPG is a thankless job, and I think too many people find it easier to say something is shit than to say something more acurate, like, "I Don't like it."

Presidential debates went on last night. Kerry managed to hold a few possitions the entirety of the debate even though he supported them with lies and even though they were possitions as flimsy as, " I believe that there is a right way and a wrong way, and I believe the president's way is the wrong way!" Never mind that he doesn't explain why it's wrong or even to bother to explain what the right way would be. Details details. Future presidents don't need to be bothered with details.

Bush on the other hand looked like he didn't want to be there, he clearly was made speachless by the absurdity of many of Kerry's statements. I think that Bush clearly could have put a stronger foot in and made a stronger showing of the errors that Kerry made, he definitely made a showing at being the better man in the debate, which showed in the shift in opinion polls post debate, but he left enough of the outright lies, falacies and challenges Kerry made unanswered that it can't be said that he won the debate, even if he made it absolutely clear that he was the better man for president by letting Kerry's own vices stand for themselves. I think Bush could have changed some minds last night. He did change a few. But he could have changed more. I think he'll win anyway, and I hope he does. I hope he makes a stronger show in the next few debates, but he doesn't need to.