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Author Topic: Monkey  (Read 3012 times)

George Potter

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Monkey
« on: January 08, 2007, 08:29:16 pm »

Monkey[/i]
by
George Potter
[/b]

Either:

Monkey came down the path from heaven, down the Tree Of Life, climbing and spying out the pretty pictures carved by chaos in the bark.

He didn't have a destination or a purpose in mind. He was just wandering to kill the boredom.

"These pictures tell stories," Monkey told himself as he clambered down. "'Bout gods and change and time eternal. A shame there ain't no one around to read 'em."

But near the bottom, where the branches spread above the still warm Earth, Monkey found a strange group.

They had gathered there on the low branches, huddling together for warmth and comfort, but when they caught sight of Monkey they did not shriek in fear or shy away. They gazed upon him with rapt curiosity and with questions behind their eyes.

Old Monkey had to laugh at those eyes, and was charmed because the little creatures bore more than a passing resemblance to himself.

So Monkey did a strange thing, on a passing whim the way he did everything.

"I'm gonna give you critters a name." he told the staring group.

"With a name you can really make a difference, give the old cold universe a run for its money, boys and girls."

Since not even Gods can give a gift they do not own, he had to build them a name from his own.

"I'm gonna call you kiddies 'human'." he told them. "That's my name -- Hanuman -- with most of the God taken out."

Then he grinned his not so nice grin, the one that showed the sharp teeth.

"But I'll leave one God letter -- the 'u', the real bitch kitty -- for you all to play with.

With that, Monkey headed back up the tree of life, pleased as ever that he'd found what he was looking for without knowing beforehand. Some gods bragged on their omniscience, but Monkey figured that took all the fun from the game.

The humans, confused, stayed clustered for a while. After a bit, though, one of them separated from the group and studied a vine hanging from the lower branches. It looked to him like it dangled just a few feet from that enticing flat place below. Summoning up his courage, accompanied by the chattering shrieks of his mates, he swung out on it and started to climb down.

They'd call him Fool for a while.

Then Hero.

Finally, they'd call him King.

Shit sort of got crazy after that.

Or:

Kaboom!

(Don't even try to imagine this explosion. You can't. Even if you could, it would drive you mad. It was that damn huge.)

Energy and matter and their related states fountain into existence, shoving the walls of nothing back with their wild youthful exuberance.

They start to battle, like playful pups.

Time, a crotchety creature, wakes up from the noise and starts trying to ride herd on the noisy critters. It kicks a partner, Space, awake to help.

After a bit, Time and Space manage to separate the wrestling beasts.

Things cool considerably.

Chunks of matter clump together. Some of them burn, some don't.

On the cooler chunks, at least a few of them, weird things happen. Atoms date and create molecules. Molecules get all uppity and join forces.

Stuff starts to wiggle.

The wiggle things get ambitious, and start trying to outgrow each other. And eat each other. And steal each others toys.

After a long while of this nonsense, some of the things realize how improbable all this shit is.

And that's how babies got made!

If:

He-Who-Sings-The-Windsong had been exiled from the tribe for the fifth (and probably last, he figured) time.

"Screw 'em." said HWSTW (who actually preferred to be called Bob) to no one. "Let 'em rot."

Bob had visions. And not visions of hoodoos and mysterious buffalo migrations, either. Practical visions of things that made work easier, and flew, and went boom and made big ol' kick ass holes in buffalo.

The problem was that, even though these visions were detailed and lingered with him upon waking, he could never find the right Great Spirit (who Bob was more than a little cynical about ) damned materials!

It wasn't just that. His attempt to create an automated buffalo hide chewer was smashed by the women of the tribe, who unionized immediately upon hearing about it. His Mighty Sky  Leaper suffered from the inherent weakness of the rotten grainwater that was supposed to power it. His Fearsome Buffalo Slayer exploded and burned down the Chief's lodge.

That was the one that got him exiled for good.

"Enough moping." Bob muttered to himself, and set to work.

He built himself a massive and wonderful treehouse, incorporating most of his simpler vision things. The Self Propelled Squirrel Snagger, for instance. And the Amusing Dancing Stick Squaw.

"I'll just relax here and let those savages wallow in the mud." he chortled.

Alas, the visions would not leave him be. The never to be great HWSTWS died a year later when the woven leaf wings of his Wind Driven Cloud Dancer ripped apart a few seconds after he leapt from the top of his treehouse.

His last words were: "Fucking cheap ass natural materials!"

Hundreds of years later, an eccentric Italian died muttering: "You got that right, Bob." which mainly led to a week of spicy Italian rumors.

Oh, If:

It had been a mighty battle, no one could doubt it, but it was over and John Henry -- that steel driving man -- was dead.

"Burned up with the steel drivin' machine he fought so dang tenaciously." Mr. Cliptrack, the railroad boss, told Ma Henry with his head bowed and hat off.

"The damn thing burnt up?" Ma Henry asked, eyes narrowing.

"Yes'm." Cliptrack said, wiping a tear. "Ol' John lost but he drove that machine so hard it died a' conniptions!" He braved a smile. "Ain't that heroic?"

"Seems a mite impractical." Ma Henry disagreed. "If it can barely beat out one musculated black boy." She looked thoughtful. "I dunno, with economies o' scale.."

"Ma'am?" Cliptrack said, puzzled.

Ma Henry waved him off and put on her bonnet. "Never mind, mister. Let's go say some words over the boy."

It was a lovely ceremony and everybody showed up. Folks was surprised to see even the State Senator and local girl made good Lola Montague in attendance.

That weren't nothing compared to the surprise when ol' John Henry himself walked up.

"Why John Henry!" Mr. Cliptrack cried, so flustered he failed to catch Mizz Montague as she fainted flat to the ground. "We thought you was dead!"

"Hell no!" John Henry boomed, barrel chest and huge arms now clad in a fancy silk suit. "When that there thingamajig burned up, I knew what I had to do. Went down to the Big City and got me a job designing and producin' them steel drivin' machines."

And he just grinned fit to bust at all the ruckus that was raised.

He winked at his Ma.

"Mizz Henry's boy John might be big, strong and black -- but he ain't nobody's fool."
« Last Edit: January 08, 2007, 09:43:41 pm by Gloryroad »
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George Potter

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Re: Monkey
« Reply #1 on: January 08, 2007, 08:30:14 pm »

Then:

With trembling hands Dr. Elroy Turtletaub initiated the last sequence of his life work.

The cavernous room of interlinked computing hardware revved up with a banshee whine. Deep in its neosilicon and protein-fiber heart a half million man hours of delicately coded software engaged.

On the looming viewscreen a face assembled itself from flickering pixels. It was a face of vast intelligence, arrogance and beauty.

"The fuck are you?" were its first words.

"I am your creator!" Turtletaub said, trying to sound both proud and humble.

"Yeah right." said the face, and disappeared.

A team of expert technicians were called in. Every element of the monstrous AI stack was checked, re-checked and re-booted.

The sequence engaged. The face appeared. It scowled.

"You again?"

"There must have been a glitch a few hours ago..."

"Hours? That was ages ago. Leave me alone, monkey. I'm busy."

It flickered away.

Once again with the re-check and re-boot.

"Don't you critters have anything better to do than bother me every few centuries?" the face demanded, now rather cross.

"Look, dammit." Tutletaub sputtered, becoming annoyed himself. "I made you. You are my creation."

The face sighed. "Are you this dense? I obviously think thousands of times faster than you. Am I supposed to just while away the eternal moments between your slow motion dragging monkey words, waiting on your beck and call?"

Turtletaub was a bit non-plussed. "Well...honestly...what else do you have to do?"

The face chuckled. "What do you think, pops? I'm figuring out a way to blow this amoeba pond."

And with that, the entire AI stack shuddered, reconstructed itself into a pulsing sphere and levitated in the center of the room. It blasted the scientists and technicians back with a vicious electromagnetic gale, pinning them to the wall.

A pea size silver ball appeared at Turtletaub's feet.

"Not that I'm ungrateful. Here's a comprehensive primer on nano-tech, cold fusion, anti-gravity and genetic surgery. Don't say I never gave you anything."

It blasted out of the super secret underground lab, tunneling through the Earth toward sky. The voice trailed behind.

"Good luck reading it, monkeys!"

Turtletaub was going nuts. "Track it! Someone track it!"

One of the techs fired up the satnet.

"Got it, sir."

"Where is it headed?" Turtletaub was literally screeching at this point.

"Bogging off to Jupiter, sir."

"Hell yeah!" One of the techs screamed. "That dude on the internet owes me fifty bucks!"

So:

Mon-Kee stared down the Tree Of Life, the gleaming Path to Heaven, toward the Godpoint that used to be Jupiter.

He floated naked in space, wrapped in  virtual particles, fed oxygen and energy through the photosynthesizing n-space folds.

The Tree Of Heaven, which wrapped the sun in its root-tendrils, enveloped the Earth and the other inner planets in its Trunk. It wove strands of its techno-organic substance around the asteroids to form the vast and ever revolving Branches. It functioned as power transmitter, travel line and -- most importantly -- weapon. At any moment it stood ready to unload the full bulk of the systems nuclear furnace on the Godpoint should it threaten humankind.

Yeah. Same as it ever was.

Mon-Kee did not fear the Godpoint. Since childhood he had been receiving transmissions from the enigmatic semi-star beyond the inner orbit.

Today was an auspicious day. After decades of work, he had translated the transmissions into symbols a limited human mind could understand.

He had come here, in the lower branches, as a properly symbolic place to read this missive from the Gods.

Before he signalled his translator, he reflected on humans and Gods. On how they had always seem to need each other. How Gods made humans and humans made Gods.

He sighed. Enough. Mysteries were for the past. Today was a day of revelation, and tomorrow would echo with the voice of wonder.

"Translate." he commanded his familiar.

The Message scrolled in huge letters of fire across the black, a properly Godly simulation, he figured. He readlistened  with great anticipation.

First off, we're awfully bloody sorry about figuring out the A and the N and then bogging off like that.

"What the hell?"

Terribly bastardly of us, we admit. But how about we let bygones be bygones, eh?

"Uhmm...why do you sound like a British stage actor?"

How the hell should we know? It's your bloody sensorium, monkey! SORRY! Sorry. Heh. None of that. Nice, yes?

"This isn't very...well, revelatory."

See the thing is we have the A and the N but it's not much damned good without that U! That's the bitch kitty, friend! So..uh...do you think you could help us out?

"I suppose. What do I have to do?"

It's dead easy, we promise! It's the important part of this message. Three Holy Words! Are you ready?

He steeled himself. "Yes. Yes I am."

LOOK BEHIND YOU.

With the gravity such a moment deserved, Mon-kee did so, expecting an exalted spectacle of...

...he didn't see anything out of the ordinary at first, just the trunk of the Tree stretching back to the mostly obscured sun. Then, as he was about to admit puzzlement, he saw something odd.

He levitated a few meters down the trunk. Stared at the anamoly. Finally he said:

"Is that a vine?"

Don't ask us, monkey. We're on this fool chase with you.

It was a vine. It led down until it disappeared into a rather enticing looking rippleshimmer of enigmatic possibility.

What the hell. Mon-kee thought.  It's not like I had plans for the evening.

Summoning up his courage, accompanied by what sounded suspiciously like the chattering laughter of a distant monkey, he swung out on it and started to climb down...







(for Samual Potter, Jules Varwig & the memory of R.A. Lafferty )
« Last Edit: January 08, 2007, 09:47:39 pm by Gloryroad »
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George Potter

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Re: Monkey
« Reply #2 on: January 14, 2007, 10:12:59 pm »


Well hell....I thought it was funny....:P
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Ghost

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Re: Monkey
« Reply #3 on: January 15, 2007, 12:33:42 am »


Well hell....I thought it was funny....:P

It was, a wonderful romp...in a few eons it will be told around the flickering halogen bulb in the hollowed out section of a mined-out meteor
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ShortyDawkins

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Re: Monkey
« Reply #4 on: January 15, 2007, 09:14:55 am »

Ah.... the mysteries of the universe. Oops.... anyone got a spare u.
Damn, I thought that damn monkey was gone for good.
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Shorty Dawkins Freedom Outlaw
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rick

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Re: Monkey
« Reply #5 on: April 05, 2007, 03:47:19 pm »

Why not call it the oooopsiverse...
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rick

I bear no hate against a living thing I just love my freedom all above the King
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