Friday Challenge Entry #4

For the Friday Challenge.

"The message"


To: CarlHansen@Neximrobotics.com

From: JMHall@WMA.org

Re: Latest dig. You have to see this!

Carl,

I'm sending this to you because you're the only man I'd trust not to immediately think that I'm crazy.

During a recent archeological dig in Mexico an extremely curious object was found. An object that had no earthly reason to be buried among the remnants of a 1918 campsite, purportedly one where Pancho Villa had stayed for an extended period.

I'm sending you copies of both the original documents, and photos, as well as the translated and digitally enhanced versions.

Sincerely,

James Mathieu Hall; Phd

Archeological Director, Westermann Museum Albuquerque, NM

ATTACHED DOCUMENT: DIGINFO.PDF

Carl opened the document and saw what appeared to be a diary entry. The handwriting was shaky and barely legible, so he scrolled down to the next page and saw a cleaned up and thankfully translated version of the same page.

Day 38: Experiment a complete failure. Minor cascade reactions in my central neural net have slowed my ability to move, and are impairing some motor functions. I've spent the better part of a month acclimating myself to this odd era, and the humans who've welcomed me into their society.

They have been most helpful in repairing most of the external damage to my outer housing. But any queries I have of replacement parts seem to be beyond them. When I asked repeatedly for an oscillating wave-form projector they looked at me strangely and walked away.

Carl laughed and thought about sending a reply to John, he'd nearly forgotten how wicked a sense of humor the man had. But something in the text he'd just read had caught his eye.

Oscilating wave-form projector.

The phrase was something well out of John's wheelhouse, and it'd be easy for him to look up the term on any online tech site, but for the fact the term hadn't even existed up until two days ago. Other than himself and a few technicians, Carl knew no one else even knew of its existence.

But then how did John manage to work it into this weird prank, he thought to himself as he scrolled down to the next page.

Day 51: Have met an odd human. He is under the impression I am not of this Earth, and despite my many protestations (in his native tongue) has managed to conscript me into his personal army.

I fear this may be the last entry in this journal, and have managed to find a hiding spot where it and the other material enclosed will remain undisturbed for well over a century. My hope is that this will be found before my creator performs his “grand experiment”, and I am somehow not flung back in time.

Carl wondered what the brief entry meant by “grand experiment, but decided to scroll to the last page in the PDF.

What he saw at first made no sense. A formation of several men dressed in clothes of Mexican peasants, but standing alongside of them, a robot.



A robot that seemed eerily familiar, he thought as he quickly moved to his drafting table and pulled up the schematics of prototype #318, his latest breakthrough.

As he stared, moving his eyes between the two images, a thought occurred to him. “Look for it”, knowing the entire time it'd be there.

Opening up a copy of the picture in the company's high-end image editor, Carl zoomed in on the odd photo, and hidden on the lower quadrant of the robot's head was exactly what he expected to see, something only he knew to look for.

Etched in micro-printing were the words “CarlHansen@Neximrobotics.com”

Friday Challenge Entry #3

For the Friday Challenge

"Che cosa ha accaduto questa estate" or "What occurred this summer"

Miss Truglio assigned us all a report due on our return to school, telling her and the rest of our class what we did over the summer break. At first I thought it was a silly and childish thing to have to do. And I already had mine almost done a few days after we left school, figuring that nothing of any importance would happen anyway. That was just a few weeks ago, just before it all started. Proving me wrong in the worst possible way.


The invaders came during the night, their terrifying ships floating silently above the city.

My parents and my brother Marco were as scared as I was, but they made the mistake of leaving the house to inspect the spectacle they thought must be a sign from God.

Something in the pit of my stomach told me otherwise, and I was about to warn my parents and the the others in our neighborhood who'd also gone out to see. But before I could, a brilliant flash of light and heat came from the nearest ship, and they were all gone in an instant.

All that was left smoke and a patch scorch marks upon the earth where they had stood.

What looked as harmless as a ray of sunlight poking through the clouds had taken my entire family, and almost everyone else I knew before I could even blink. The warning that I had meant to voice had been all but forgotten as I ran back to my bedroom, and gathered what I would need once I'd gone into hiding. A few days worth of clothes, the knife my father had given me last year, and a small map of the area that I been making to keep busy over the summer break.

Running to the kitchen I grabbed a few loaves of bread my mother had made for the next day, and some other things I knew would keep well on my journey. I had made the decision only seconds after watching what the invaders were capable of, I would need to run for help. No weapons we had in the village were capable of defending us from them, but I suspected that maybe nearby garrison of soldiers did.

As I watched the invader's ships float away towards the center of the village, I pulled my pack of supplies closer to me, fingering the handle of the knife, readying myself for a confrontation in case I ran into any of their ground forces.

A foolish gesture, I know, but at the time it was more for confidence than anything else. Once the ships were a fair enough distance away, I slipped out of my home and made my way toward the garrison and what I hoped would be my village's salvation.

Fearing being seen by the invaders I had decided against carrying anything to light my way, depending instead on the moonlight and the growing fires their weapons were starting. I had made it to the crest of the pathway the led away from our village when I got a glimpse of one of them.

Standing high above me on the ridge overlooking the village was an invader. He was no bigger than any of the men in the village, but something about him seemed much more threatening.

He wore strange clothes that covered him from head to toe, all in black, cinched with a belt around his waist, loaded down with what I assumed to be more weapons.

It wasn't until he turned around and I caught a glimpse of his face that I knew how terrifying and different the invaders really were.

His face was a smooth blank sheet of black with one small green eye centered in the middle of his face.

As I watched him observe what was going on back in the village, I waited for him to leave, hoping I'd be able to make a run for the soldiers. But as the moon slowly traced its way across the sky, marking the hours passing he stood stone still. Carefully moving as not to make any sound, I walked back the way I had came, praying that none of the invaders had followed my path out of the village.

Realizing going back home would be pointless, I spent the rest of the night creeping around the village, making my way to the only place I could think to hide, the school. By the time I got there it was nearing dawn.

Any other day and I'd have only been getting up just now to the smells of food being cooked by mother, listening to the sound of her yelling at Marco for running around her and generally being in the way.

Walking into my classroom, these thoughts racing through my head I finally broke down and started crying at what I'd lost, and the fact that I may never survive long enough for anyone to know what has happened here.

That's when I started writing this. So that if the invaders do find me and kill me too there will be a record of this, that all who died will not be forgotten.

Fulvio DeRentis, age 10 brother of Marco, son of Silvio and Josette DeRentis, of Pompeii

August 24, 79 In the Year of Our Lord Jesus Christ



It had taken even less time than the leaders had assumed to take over the small country, thought the invader as he stood over the spot where the small boy had been huddled asleep only moments earlier.

The scent of ozone and charred carbon hung in the air long after the body had been vaporized. He'd hated to to kill children, having two of his own, but the orders were clear, no survivors.

Looking down at the scrap of paper the boy had been writing on when he'd caught him unaware, the invader wondered what the indecipherable scribblings meant, if anything. He debated taking it along with him back to the command post, but thought better of it in the end. The cleaning today and tomorrow would take care of any evidence of their arrival.

He had to hand it to the leaders, disguising an invasion with a series of natural disasters was brilliant. Too bad the next one wasn't scheduled to occur for another 1804 years. He'd counted on bringing his family with him to settle on this planet. But took solace in the fact that they'd be well taken care of from the work he was doing.

As he pulled the night vision glasses, and the environmental hood off his face, revealing not the the face of an alien, but a human being, he wondered to himself what kind of name was Earth for such a beautifully unspoiled planet?

He knew the inhabitants hadn't done any better naming his home world after a god of war, but to name a planet after the ground underfoot was just lazy.

He'd spend the walk back to the command post coming up with much better suggestions, he thought to himself as he watched the scientists setting up the cleansing devices in the mountain above the silent and now nearly empty village.

Any stragglers he and the others manged to miss would be taken care of by that, he thought smiling as he went back to coming up with much better names for this new world.

Friday Challenge Entry #2

For the Friday Challenge

"The treatment”

Bruce, you need to read this idiotic proposal I got back from those two “writers” you had me submit spec scripts to. What did I ever do to you?

My notes are scattered throughout, and I will remember this next time you need someone to polish a short story or manage “The Friday Challenge”.


From: The offices of P. T. Haack & I. Rouen

To: Henry Vogel

Re: Southern Knights Script notes

Henry, P.T. here, we're so glad to be working with you on this exciting project. Ignacio and I just have a few small tweaks we'd like to make in regard to some of the characters, and the script you submitted.

I believe, and Ignacio agrees that with these insignificant changes we can all put out the best possible finished product.

Electrode - A scientist whose love of comics caused him to give himself super-powers. Can generate electricity—up to and including lightning bolts—and can fly.

We'd like to change the character of “Electrode” from a scientist who gains superpowers to an alien visitor who is born with his powers. More along the lines of Superman, but different enough to avoid possible litigation. Also we'd like to remove his love of comic books and replace it with something more culturally relevant like perhaps internet webisodes, we have an arrangement with FoxWarner Studios. And we'd really like to leverage that if possible.

As to casting of the character our short list includes Jason Statham, Shia Labeouf, and if you're amenable to changing the gender of the character, Megan Fox, or Charlize Theron.


Connie Ronnin. A former Olympic fencing silver-medalist. She can create a 'psychic sword' which can cause people struck by it to react as though it were a real sword, but leaves no lasting damage. Being a projection of psychic energy, her sword is not at all inhibited by armor.


For the character of Connie Ronnin, we see a skintight bodysuit and possible nude scenes, tastefully done of course. We feel the concept of a “psychic sword” is a little too highbrow.
Could we possibly change this to an actual sword, a family heirloom passed down thorough the generations along with the secret identity. Ignacio and I have tossed a few ideas around about that, feel free to go over the included sketches, and choose the one you'd feel appropriate.

(Note from Henry: The attached sketches are all bikini clad supermodel types, with large breasts, and vapid smiles. Dear lord what have I gotten myself into?)

Kristin Austin. A petite graduate of Clemson University who is strong enough to destroy a tank and tough enough to withstand at least .50 cal. machine gun rounds.

Kristin was somewhat of a conundrum with us, but after a few days of brainstorming we think we stumbled upon a perfect solution. Combine her character with the character of Connie Ronnin.

With that bit of creative writing we found the pool of available actresses to play the role much easier to fill. We'd like to invite you to come to the next casting call and give us your unbiased opinion on the subject.

(Note from Henry: No, just no. And don't tell my wife.)

Aramis Merrow. A young sorcerer from the 17th century who was placed in suspended animation by his parents when their coven was attacked by witch hunters. He was awakened by Kristin while she was exploring the new house the team had moved into. His magical powers allow him to do almost anything. Flying, scrying, summoning illusions, protecting himself and others with mystical shields, and firing bolts of magical energy. His major weakness is trying to adjust to modern-day life.

We've done some research and found what we think is a new take on this archetypical character. Young hot blonde woman, English accent, and we know this is old school, but all of her “abilities” will be done with practical effects. Just to give it all that hokey old-timey feel, that has been lost in this age of CGI.

Foremost among our concerns for this character was finding a believable young woman capable of playing someone with this much raw seething power.

We think you'll agree with our choice, Dakota Fanning. She's coming off of that remake of "Jaws", so we'd better strike while the iron is hot.

Dragon - Moranderin/Mark Dagon. The last of the dragons (or so he initially believes). After his mate and child were slain by men, he found that he could take on the form of a human male. After having his revenge on the slayers of his family he wandered the world for a thousand years until meeting up with the Knights. In dragon form he is immensely strong and tough, can fly and breath fire. In human form he is no tougher or stronger than a normal human.

Now we saved this until last for a reason, Ignacio and I have the most controversial changes in mind for this character, and we were hoping to wow you with our other improvements before getting to him.

Instead of a powerful dragon who can shape-shift into human form, we saw the one missing component in this series, humor. We planned almost from the day we received the wonderful script you sent us to find a way to work in a subtle bit of humor. And the character of “Dragon” seemed almost written just for that.

With a few modifications, obviously.

Now in our version of Southern Knights, “Dragon” will be a childlike being, an easy audience surrogate for the always popular 6-12 year old market.

Add in the fast food tie-ins and action figure possibilities and you'd have to be a fool to say no to our minor changes.

(Note from Henry: Jesus wept, I'd have to get a frontal lobotomy to work with you jackasses in the first place..)

Sincerely,

P.T. Haack and Ignacio Rouen


P.S.

Henry, the groundskeeper, who wears a high tech suit of armor? Yeah we had to cut him at the last minute. You understand, what with “Iron Man 4” coming out this summer. It's a logistical nightmare, and we'd hate to be accused of swiping a popular character from someone else.

(Note from Henry: What?!? You mean again right? I looked these two up on the WGA website, they have over 100 complaints against them. Seriously check it out for yourself.)