Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)DarkenedKnight
Star
- Joined
- May 23, 2010
(Note for readers: Robert looks like Edward Norton.)
"Doesn't it strike you as strange? That our founder should suddenly disappear and leave this board without leadership. Especially since he claimed an attack of conscience. He knew better than I ever could that God has absolved us of all sin." A vaguely southern, definitely male voice spoke through the horn of what looked like an antiquated rotary phone.
The man attached to the handset was a tall, aryan specimen with a strongly aristocratic air about him.
"We all get old and senile you know, Father Reginald." A note of irritation was clear in the blond man's voice.
"Speak for yourself, boy. I am blessed by the cloth." The man replied amusedly.
"But you are no leader. I am."
There was a short pause, light breathing could be heard across the line.
"Let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late." It was clear that Reginald was catching the drift of the conversation.
"You want my blessing to take his place. Since I am your only true competition on the board." The flat tone in the man's voice brought a predatory menace to the warm southern twang that colored it.
The younger man smiled as he thought of his pitch.
"Yes. I only ask as a courtesy, since I know that you enjoy the 'perks' of your position far too much to take up greater responsibility."
The roll of the priests eyes was practically audible.
"My choir needs me, you are quite right. You have my blessing."
+++
Amidst the Utopia that man had finally managed to forge lay small pockets of the old world. Deep inside the vast desert created by war, the ruins of humanity stood tall.
Cities dotted the dunes, hidden from progress and enlightenment, the inhabitants happy to dwell in the muck of the past. Of course, those people didn't know what they were doing, they thought that they were the last surviving humans in the seemingly infinite wasteland.
+++
Deep beneath one such city, a single man trawled the complex tunnels and corridors that supported life as he knew it.The job was far from glamorous, as most important jobs are, but it was how he continued to eat.
The small earwhig attached to his lobe chirpped sadly, indicating that someone in administration wanted to talk to him.
"Hello, admin." He said casually as he trudged through the filtration complex.
"Robert...there appears to be some kind of problem with filtration node four, it's nor returning any biomass. Go assess the damage and the repair cost, if any."
Robert gave a short sigh and headed toward the sector four airlock.
"On it boss."
The beleaguered looking worker tapped in his security code on the airlock pad and watched the thick steel door groan open to reveal a cluttered looking room, full of pipes, filtration canisters, pumps and reclamation chambers. All were silent, not a good sign.
Every so often some conspiracy nut would get the idea that there was a world left outside the city walls and try to escape via the reclamation/disposal system. It was always so much fun to pick little unidentified chunks of body out of the pumps for weeks after they failed.
After an exhausting four hour long inspection of every inlet, outlet, storage tank, and pump, Robert found no sign of human remains or mechanical failure.
"Odd...musta been a tripped breaker." He grumbled as he opened a line back to central.
"Hey. I did a full diagnostic...looks like a software error or breaker fault. Either way, I'm gonna reboot this thing and call it a night. Out."
With a tired groan the public worker ran through the startup sequence and watched the control panel for a while, waiting for something to happen.
When nothing happened for half an hour, Robert decided to call it a night and collect his over time.
"Doesn't it strike you as strange? That our founder should suddenly disappear and leave this board without leadership. Especially since he claimed an attack of conscience. He knew better than I ever could that God has absolved us of all sin." A vaguely southern, definitely male voice spoke through the horn of what looked like an antiquated rotary phone.
The man attached to the handset was a tall, aryan specimen with a strongly aristocratic air about him.
"We all get old and senile you know, Father Reginald." A note of irritation was clear in the blond man's voice.
"Speak for yourself, boy. I am blessed by the cloth." The man replied amusedly.
"But you are no leader. I am."
There was a short pause, light breathing could be heard across the line.
"Let us not talk falsely now, the hour is getting late." It was clear that Reginald was catching the drift of the conversation.
"You want my blessing to take his place. Since I am your only true competition on the board." The flat tone in the man's voice brought a predatory menace to the warm southern twang that colored it.
The younger man smiled as he thought of his pitch.
"Yes. I only ask as a courtesy, since I know that you enjoy the 'perks' of your position far too much to take up greater responsibility."
The roll of the priests eyes was practically audible.
"My choir needs me, you are quite right. You have my blessing."
+++
Amidst the Utopia that man had finally managed to forge lay small pockets of the old world. Deep inside the vast desert created by war, the ruins of humanity stood tall.
Cities dotted the dunes, hidden from progress and enlightenment, the inhabitants happy to dwell in the muck of the past. Of course, those people didn't know what they were doing, they thought that they were the last surviving humans in the seemingly infinite wasteland.
+++
Deep beneath one such city, a single man trawled the complex tunnels and corridors that supported life as he knew it.The job was far from glamorous, as most important jobs are, but it was how he continued to eat.
The small earwhig attached to his lobe chirpped sadly, indicating that someone in administration wanted to talk to him.
"Hello, admin." He said casually as he trudged through the filtration complex.
"Robert...there appears to be some kind of problem with filtration node four, it's nor returning any biomass. Go assess the damage and the repair cost, if any."
Robert gave a short sigh and headed toward the sector four airlock.
"On it boss."
The beleaguered looking worker tapped in his security code on the airlock pad and watched the thick steel door groan open to reveal a cluttered looking room, full of pipes, filtration canisters, pumps and reclamation chambers. All were silent, not a good sign.
Every so often some conspiracy nut would get the idea that there was a world left outside the city walls and try to escape via the reclamation/disposal system. It was always so much fun to pick little unidentified chunks of body out of the pumps for weeks after they failed.
After an exhausting four hour long inspection of every inlet, outlet, storage tank, and pump, Robert found no sign of human remains or mechanical failure.
"Odd...musta been a tripped breaker." He grumbled as he opened a line back to central.
"Hey. I did a full diagnostic...looks like a software error or breaker fault. Either way, I'm gonna reboot this thing and call it a night. Out."
With a tired groan the public worker ran through the startup sequence and watched the control panel for a while, waiting for something to happen.
When nothing happened for half an hour, Robert decided to call it a night and collect his over time.