Thursday, 2 May 2024
Life, the universe, pies, hot-pink bunnies, world domination, and everything
A new story begins. Old stories continue from Muse Fanfiction, v. 2007.1.
Please note: these are not RRRs but solo projects which share the same thread. Start your own or just stop by and visit.
Date: September 28, 2007
Categories: Fiction, poetry, and fanfiction
First post? I need to update mine.
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For my own reference while writing.
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304. Prarilius Canix �|� September 27th, 2007 at 9:46 pm
A
Alice
Kiki
Beavo
B
purplefinch
Cinnamon Moon
C
TNO
Traggle
TMFA
Widdershins
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280. Traggle �|� September 26th, 2007 at 8:13 pm
Short, curly, dark brown hair, slightly oval shaped face, brown eyes, usually heavy eyeliner and mascara, usually wearing a skull necklace, Celtic knotwork rings, and a 80’s style digital watch, usually a black t-shirt and jeans, and skater shoes. Is that a good enough description for you?
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285. Kiki the Great �|� September 27th, 2007 at 4:01 pm
OMMG PC WHUT!
I sooooo wanna be in that. Can I be one of the assault ninjas who tries to find out what happened to Supah-Editah-Ladeh (a.k.a Romana)???? Pleez? And I would pick A.
I am about 4′ 6″, with short, chin-length red hair. I wear lavender glasses (plastic, not metal, no little pads on the bridge of the nose) and I’m always wearing some assortment of colorful bracelets.
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289. Alice �|� September 27th, 2007 at 6:05 pm
288- I described myself a while ago, but here it is in more detail.
I have brown hair with quite a bit of gold in it (not highlights), pretty long, generally parted on the side. Blue eyes, stud earrings. My costume varies continuously. And of course I always have a book with me, usually fantasy.
And because I am about to get carried away in a sea of titles, I will hastily hit submit.
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292. the man for aeiou �|� September 27th, 2007 at 6:18 pm
274- sure! c.
brown hair, brown eyes, tall.
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295. Beavo the Online Stalker �|� September 27th, 2007 at 7:27 pm
274-I’d go with C. It’s fine with me if you include me, infact, it would be awesome! You want a description? I didn’t see that post, but here goes:
About five two, ear lobe length mad scientist like auburn hair. Dark brown eyes. Very pale skin. About fifteen messages on each hand. Wearing black and green skateboarding shoes with untied laces, semi-baggy jeans that usually drag on the ground and the overly large pockets filled with objects such as homework and rubber bands and such, complete with a black belt and little gold (but really bronze) circles around it. Either a black T-Shirt (on eville feeling days) featuring some picture on it, or a brown and white striped Polo (on bored/tired/preppy feeling days). If it’s cold, wearing a black hoddie with some random logo (I still haven’t figured out what), and usually tends to have little white MP3 ear buds sticking out of ears and into pocket. I might be wearing one of those livestrong wristbands, but only when I’m tired. Pulls out wallet (light brown with a green eagle) often and looks though it for no reason.
Wow, I didn’t know I knew myself that much. I actually don’t wear skulls because my mom took all my Hot Topic clothes (burned them, I expect) and banned me from going in there EVER AGAIN. 
But I would if I could. So please include that.
275-Actually, yours was quite good. Maybe I’m just saying that because I’m in it, but still. It was good before I was there.
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299. oxlin widdershins �|� September 27th, 2007 at 8:16 pm
C brown hair, dark plastic glasses, usually dressed in corduroy skirts/pants and sweaters
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307. purplefinch �|� September 28th, 2007 at 5:47 am
I have dark blond hair (with two little frizzies on the side), with blue/grey eyes. I’m 5’5-ish, and a kind of quiet face (sigh), and some freckles. I would probably be wearing jeans, or a skirt, with some kind of shirt (So helpful, I know). Yeah… If you need any more character traits, just ask. Or you can make them up…
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311. oxlin widdershins �|� September 28th, 2007 at 5:12 pm
more description: greenish blue eyes is always carrying around a book to read and one to jot things down in. Likes to explore. Straight hair, short ish in length. Usually wearing a pair of boots that button up the side. Likes decorating things with buttons. Enjoys reading, writing and theatre.
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Alice walked purposefully out of the revolving glass door and into East Dearborn Street. It was one of the few actual roads left in Chicago, preserved for historical purposes. The site of the original Muse office.
And, therefore, the site of the new one.
Muse Incorporated had offices in Sydney, Brasilia and San Fransisco, but its home base was still where it had been for the past 29 years. At three thousand feet of concrete, steel and glass, it was the tallest building in the world.
Alice had dreamed of working for Muse when she was younger. It was second only to her wish to become an author. Both dreams had, eventually, come true.
“Be careful what you wish for,” she muttered, walking briskly down the sidewalk and to the subway entrance.
In an ambitious plan to check urban sprawl, a mayor of Chicago had removed most roads and opened developing space where they had been. This plan would not have been feasible before 2013, but since the invention of APTUs, or aerial personal transit units, and the improvement of public transportation, it had boomed.
Alice went down the steps to wait for her ride.
She didn’t have long to wait. With a hiss of brakes, the maglev train came to a halt in front of the platform. She paid the doorman two muses and stepped inside.
Alice selected a comfortable gel-padded seat near the door, opened her briefcase and took out her computer. It was barely the size of a baseball, but when she pressed the activation button, a holographic keyboard and desktop appeared.
Alice touched the Musesoft Word icon on the screen. A motion sensor on the computer detected where her finger had been placed and opened the correct program. Bringing up her latest manuscript, she began to write.
Absorbed in her half-completed novel, Alice only noticed the train stopping when a loud chime sounded in the car. Shutting off her computer, she put it back in the briefcase and stepped off the train.
Alice emerged from the subway on the edge of Muse Park. She liked this part of Chicago. It was an escape from the corporate rat race that she spent half of her day in. The Park’s wide, green stretches of grass and gnarled old trees helped her to relax. Not to mention the quaint, colorful little cafes that lined its circumference, Los Dos Iguanas in particular. She usually ate lunch there, and today was no exception.
Stepping under the sign depicting intertwined lizards, she took a seat at the counter and ordered a fruit salad and a sandwich. They were speedily delivered, and just as speedily set to. Work always gave her a good appetite.
She was halfway through the salad, her sandwich having long since been reduced to a couple of crumbs on the plate, when a loud laugh erupted from a nearby table. She turned around in curiosity, and nearly spewed partially chewed pineapple across the floor.
A red-haired young woman was talking energetically to the laugher, a man whose wild auburn hair and pale skin made him look like a mad scientist. “Now, I’m getting kind of freaked, so I take the pecan pie out of the shopping cart, put a scoop of walnut ice cream on top and WHAM! Nutter a la mode!”
Alice swallowed hastily and gasped in delight. “Kiki! Beavo!”
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Description:
Light brown, shoulder-length, straitish hair, blue/gray eyes. I’m 5’8 or 5’9 or so. I where glasses, and am frequently seen w/ a book. I’m pretty sure I have ADHD, too. Usually where jeans and black shirt. Usually have complicated design penned onto palm of left hand. Also hands are purple or sometimes blue due to circulation problem. Enjoys (among other things) music, drama, writing, reading, and computers. Skinny.
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That was perfect , just perfect, PC. I loved it. Please keep writing! It’s off to a great start. Your english teacher must obsess over you.
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5- How did you know?
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6-Because your english teacher is my mother my spy a contact.
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You know Mrs. S? Not surprised, she would make a good Muser.
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I wish we wrote in English . . . *wistful* Apparently Freshmen don’t need to write, because you can’t take Creative Writing until Sophomore year, I guess.
*pouts*
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If you don’t write in English, what the heck do you do?
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10- Read. Which is fine, I guess, but that means that I don’t get to write except in Freshman Trans, which hardly counts.
I have a faint hope that we’ll write more later in the year, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Maybe in Honors?
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The red-haired woman turned around. Her mouth dropped open. “What the… Alice?”
“Alice?” the man said quizzically. “As in MuseBlog Alice?”
“Duh. You are so slow sometimes, Beavo.”
“Well, Kiki the perfect, Alice is not exactly a unique moniker, is it?”
Kiki turned to face Alice. “My gosh, we have so much to catch up on! How’s your novel going?”
“Not bad. How’s yours?”
“Brilliantly. Fancy meeting you here!”
“Actually, I come here every day. The big surprise is me meeting you. Don’t you live down in San Francisco nowadays?”
Beavo cleared his throat. “Don’t mind me, ladies. Just sitting here being nonexistent.”
“Sorry, Beavo, but I haven’t seen Alice in ages,” Kiki said.
“Pardon me,” Alice interrupted, “but I’m dying to know something. How do you come to be here?”
“Just to get the inside story on how the Windy City is doing Muse-wise.” Kiki gave a disgusted snort. “It’s worse than I expected. Look at that!”
Alice looked out the window. A giant video billboard, supported by three hot air balloons, was slowly drifting past. Ads played across its surface, accompanied by a booming, amplified voice. “Hi, kids. I’m Kokopelli. You all know who I am, but you probably don’t know that I use Crest toothpaste. Keeps your teeth shiny and white!” Kokopelli grinned, showing a set of perfect teeth. Alice winced. “Gonick is turning over in his grave.”
Beavo agreed wholeheartedly. “I know he’s a fictional character, but-” He paused. “It’s like seeing a friend die.”
Kiki nodded. “Or worse. At least if the Muses had died, they’d have kept some self-respect. But ever since Romana Prokopiw disappeared and that upstart Ronald Tardiff took her place, they’ve been exploited mercilessly.”
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12- cool. I like the part with “Ads played across its surface, accompanied by a booming, amplified voice. “Hi, kids. I’m Kokopelli. You all know who I am, but you probably don’t know that I use Crest toothpaste. Keeps your teeth shiny and white!” Kokopelli grinned, showing a set of perfect teeth”
Does Kokopelli have teeth?
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13- Probably not.
12- Brilliant!
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13- He doesn’t. That’s why Alice winced.
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yes! I like the toothpaste part Keep writing; I’d like to see my future self! ^_^
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Description- I’m tallish, brown hair, green-brown eyes, paleish skin.
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17-I thought PC said no more main characters?
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18- She was already in.
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What’s this? Can i be in it? I’ll even make my own description thingy.
Raven black hair, straight and rippling like the breath of wind, ivory skin as if carved from marble, lips like a rosebud,and blue yes of the deepest pool,glistening in the afternoon sun.
Oh, if you don’t want me in that’s ok, but it seems like s s so much fun*sniffs*.
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20- Would you like to be in mine, Agrrrfishi?
I’m going to revive mine. I’m editing as we speak, and here’s the cast of characters.
Koko du Pelle
Jadestone
Prarilius Canix
The man for aeiou
Me
Since this is in January 2010, the ages are as follows:
Koko du Pelle-13
Jadestone-19
Prarilius Canix-15
The man for aeiou-14
Me-16
If Agrrfishi wants to be in it, she’d be 15, I think. Right?
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Oh wait, I forgot Beavo. Sorry! You’d be 15, right? 14? 16?
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this is such a good therd.
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Here’s my compiled FanFic, just to get things moving again.
~~~
The wind blew strong outside of the looming gray building, but it did not bother the small huddle of young people outside it. They had bigger things to worry about than a bit of wind. MuseBlog, their one connection to each other across countries and even seas, had suddenly and without warning been shut down. Through a good deal of frustration and considerable online stalking skills, they had managed to organize one more kokonvention. And here they were, Jadestone, Prarilius Canix, Koko du Pelle, and Alice. But where was everyone else?
Alice hunched her shoulders against the cold wind. “Jeez,” she muttered. “Whoever suggested we meet outside obviously lives in Australia.”
There was a murmur of agreement all around, and Koko du Pelle voiced the thing that all four were thinking:
“Where are they?”
“If they don’t come in the next fifteen minutes I’m going inside,” said Canix, checking his watch.
“Agreed,” Jadestone said.
For the eighth time. Alice pulled a list out of her pocket. “Where are TMFA and–”
“Never mind,” said Koko du Pelle hurriedly. “Let’s go in now, why don’t we? We can wait inside.”
“Just a little longer,” said Alice. “They said they would come here, so we ought to wait for them.”
“But I’m cold!”
“You can go in, then. I’m staying here.” Alice absentmindedly pushed the paper into the pocket of her coat.
Having accomplished his task, Koko du Pelle pulled his coat tighter and turned his back to the wind.
At that moment, a teenage boy fell unconscious out of a tree in a park halfway across town. A few minutes later, Jadestone, Canix, du Pelle, and Alice went inside.
~
The Man For Aeiou regained consciousness in a hospital bed. “The kokonvention,” he murmured. “They have to know. Tell them.” Then he slipped back into darkness.
“He’s babbling,” stated one of the nurses who stood by his bed.
“He’ll be better by tomorrow,” said the other nurse. “Just a bump on the head. He ought to know better than to climb trees after a freeze.”
“It was odd though. Do you know what a kokonvention is?”
“No idea.”
“Hmm. Well, never mind. Probably just a nonsense word.”
~
It wasn’t, though. It was of the utmost importance what TMFA had to say, and no one knew it.
Well, almost no one.
“Well,” said Alice, sitting down at the little cafe table, “this could be better. It’s hard to have a conference when you only have four people.”
Jadestone nodded. “No kidding.”
There was a pause.
“I’ve been thinking,” said Jadestone. “Since the blog shut down–why don’t we start a new one? It won’t be the same, but we could use the blog format, and–” She said no more.
“Yeah!” said du Pelle with more enthusiasm than anyone there. “I’ve always wanted to be a moderator!”
No one could admit that they hadn’t.
“It’s hard to see any of us moderating, though,” said Prarilius Canix. “It’s hard to see anyone but the GAPAs moderating.”
“But we could try!” Koko du Pelle urged.
~
The park was almost empty, but not quite. A lone figure stood on the grass. It was impossible to see the face under the bundle of scarves, but its arms and legs looked distinctly stick-like.
The figure gave a sharp whistle, and seven other figures, bundled to the point of waddling, stepped out from among the trees. A crow flapped lazily down to light on the shoulder of one of them. The first figure, which was wearing an orange plaid scarf, said, “Come. We must hunt them down.”
There was an especially cold blast of wind, the last of autumn’s dead leaves crumbled to dust, and the figures were gone.
~
“We have got to do something about this,” said Mimi. “They’re getting out of hand.”
“Who do they think they are?” asked Urania. “This is unacceptable! They’re wreaking havoc–and they look like us!”
Even Kokopelli was indignant, although for different reasons than the others. “I don’t believe it!” he said furiously. “I don’t believe they’re doing this without me!”
~
“I suppose–” Alice began, but before she could finish her sentence she spilled coffee onto her lap. “Oops.” She tried to mop it up with a napkin, to no avail. “Bother,” she said mildly, and stood up. “I’ll be right back. Don’t plan anything without me.” She picked up her handbag and walked off.
But she was destined never to clean out the coffee stain. it would remain engraved in the denim skirt for as long as the skirt itself lasted. As she approached the restroom, something large and heavy hit her in the head. She fell almost silently to the floor.
~
The other three MuseBloggers waited patiently, idly discussing the “old days,” but when Alice had been gone for nearly three hours, they began to suspect something was wrong.
“It doesn’t take all that long to get rid of a coffee stain,” said Jadestone.
“No,” agreed Canix.
“Something must have happened,” said Koko du Pelle.
“Like what? The hot-pink bunnies kidnapped her?” joked Jadestone.
“No . . . but someone might have kidnapped her.”
“Who would want to?” reasoned Canix. “This isn’t a fanfiction. It doesn’t make sense.”
“No . . . never mind.”
A pause.
“But something must have happened.”
The conversation turned once more to the many MuseBlog writing projects, and Alice vanished entirely from their minds.
Three Weeks Later
Jadestone opened her door and collected the mail. Mostly bills; a package containing the latest edition of the MuseBlog signature shirt, two months after she had ordered it; and a small yellow envelope with no return address. This intrigued her.
Absentmindedly leaving the rest of the mail on the table, she wandered into the living room and tore open the envelope.
It read:
We have a hostage.
Confused, Jadestone turned it over. There was nothing.
Well, almost nothing. Scrawled in an untidy hand and crossed out was the word:
Don't
“Weird,” said Jadestone. “I wonder who it was from.”
Then she tossed the package, unopened, into a drawer and closed it.
~
“It’s working,” said the figure seated at the desk. He was cloaked in a dark grey veil that obscured his features. “Soon they will have no memory of the days of the impostors.” He cackled evilly.
“What purpose will that serve?” asked another of the figures. “They won’t remember the impostors, but they certainly won’t remember us.”
“That is the beauty of this. When their memories are completely wiped, then they will be replaced with memories of us. It will drastically change their personalities, to be sure, but only for the better.”
“And what are we to do with the hostage?”
“The hostage. I shall deal with her later.”
The hostage shuddered. She could remember nothing of who she was or who her captors were, but she knew this much:
They were up to no good.
~
Both Prarilius Canix and Koko du Pelle had received messages like the one that Jadestone had found in the mail, but they had taken even less notice of them than Jadestone.
~
Beavo the Online Stalker woke on Monday morning with the feeling that something was missing. He just didn’t know what. He ate his breakfast without tasting it, and had taken third helpings before he realized that it was his least favorite dish. His mother, of course, was delighted, and Beavo left the house as fast as possible to avoid admitting that he actually hated it, which would lead to awkward questions. It was not until history class that he remembered, and was forced to stifle the urge to jump up screaming “EUREKA!” Instead, he scribbled one word on the back of his hand.
Muse
“The project has failed,” announced the black-clad figure. “There is rebellion in [wherever Beavo lives]. Keep an eye on the boy, and wipe his memory when necessary.”
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———-7 Years Pass———
Beavo looked dismally around his apartment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cleaned it, and it showed. The only tidy part of it was the telepost terminal, and that was only because he never got any t-mail. Boxes, both cardboard and plastic, sat among the heaps of experiments gone bad and jumbles of paper scrawled with various stories and letters. What had gone wrong?
“I hate this,” he muttered darkly.
“It needs to be done,” said the telepostman. He wasn’t bad for company, but sometimes it bothered Beavo that his only companion was hologramo-mechanico. He picked his way to the terminal and turned it off. Then he selected a cardboard box at random and began to sort the things inside.
An hour or two later, he was feeling a little better, and the room was looking considerably more tidy. The boxes were stacked against one wall, the paper was overflowing the garbage can, the window was wide open, and the experiments were tidied away in more boxes.
“Curse the population rise!” he said to the telepostman. “I need more room.”
“Quite,” said the TPM.
Beavo decided to sort one more box. It was full of photographs from his childhood. Himself as a baby, himself as a fourth-grader, all the things that grandparents and parents are supposed to have but always wind up in the house of the child.
Near the bottom of the box, Beavo found a small bundle of pictures tied together with a rubber band. His curiosity peaked, he pulled the rubber band off and discarded it on the floor, then flipped through the pictures. They appeared to be of a friend’s birthday party when Beavo was fourteen or fifteen. The usual kind, laughing teenagers, pictures of the cake, the presents, the games. But Beavo noticed on the back of his right hand a word in blue ink. It was Muse. It meant nothing.
He went over to the TPM and showed him the pictures. “This mean anything to you?” he asked.
The TPM peered. “It looks like a birthday party,” he said.
“Something like that,” sighed Beavo. “But it means something, I know it does. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Not the Muses surely, from the magazine? What were they called? Un-aria, Not… There were nine of them, I think.”
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13-No, Koko dosn’t have teeth, which makes it all the more ridiculous. As a ad, not part of the story, I mean.
20-Whoah, if you don’t get in PC’s fanfiction, you should definatly use that discription in english class.
21-2010? I’d be fifteen, I think. Yeah, fifteen.
24-Oh no! My memory! *rushes to open a MS word document* I must write my autobiography NOW!
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Sorry for the double post.
Alice, how did you know my unlucky number was seven? Something bad’s going to happen, I expect, now that I remember (kind of) Muse.
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27- You remember Muse as much as anyone remembers Muse. The actual Muses are forgotten, and their counterparts have replaced them. And yes, something bad will happen. I’m just not sure what yet.
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A list of the Muses and their counterparts:
Kokopelli = No-no-pelli
Urania = Un-aria
Pwt = Not
Bo = Ob
Chad = Bad
Aeiou = Uoiea
Crraw = Yawn
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Alice fell silent, reliving memories. The fiasco had started with the disappearance of Romana Prokopiw in 2012. Disgusted with the new Editor’s commercializing of Muse, Diana Lutz resigned with a sizable portion of the Muse staff. Panicking, Ronald Tardiff offered DL the rights to certain Muse trademarks. After a bitter legal battle, Diana Lutz kept the rights to Urania, hot pink bunnies and Muse Contests. She left and set up a new magazine, Urania, based in Geneva.
The MuseBloggers had been torn. Some had stayed with Muse, some with Urania, and some were utterly disgusted by the entire affair, including most of the GAPAs. When both Muse and Urania attempted to conquer the world at the same time, the neutral MBers carved out a stretch of territory for themselves that eventually comprised Iceland, the UK and Scandinavia. Urania ruled Europe, Africa and Asia, while Muse commanded the Americas and Australia.
“And here we are,” Alice muttered.
“I know,” Kiki said. “Mostly Harmless, Mostly Schmarmless. This is not what Muse is all about.”
“Speaking of which,” Beavo said curiously, “how’s your day job going?”
Alice sighed. “Not good. I’m just trying to keep my head down and do what I’m told until I get promoted into a position where I can make a difference.”
“Say,” Kiki inquired, “you think you could give us a tour?”
“Of where, and why?”
“The Muse office.”
“Yes. But you haven’t answered my second question yet.” A suspicious look entered Alice’s eyes. “You just want to get the inside scoop for that column you’re writing in the San Francisco Chronicle!”
Kiki grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. My pen name’s Ruby Jewell. So, can you set us up or what?”
Alice sighed in exasperation. “Oh, all right.”
They finished their respective lunches and went back to the subway station, chatting happily.
Once on board, Beavo listened to his musePod while Kiki and Alice continued working on their novels. The ride didn’t take long. Alice calculated that she had about a half hour left of lunch break- plenty of time to give her friends a tour.
Entering through the revolving glass door, Alice pointed out several points of interest in the lobby, such as the giant marble statues of the Muses and the reflecting pool. It was something of a bittersweet experience for them all, to see how much their favorite magazine had been twisted.
Kiki’s enthusiasm, however, could not be curbed for long. “Let’s go up to the observation deck on the top,” she said, dragging her companions to the elevator.
The elevator stopped only once, on the thirtieth floor. A group of editors walked in, among them none other than Ronald Tardiff. “That’s out of the question!” he was blustering. “We couldn’t aggravate Urania like that!”
“But it would give us a decisive advantage in the Cold War,” said one of his advisers. “You can’t ignore- ” She noticed the other people in the elevator, and stopped.
The editors rode up to the hundredth floor and got off. Alice was about to turn away and forget about the incident when Kiki slipped through the closing door.
Alice and Beavo reached out and grabbed the sleeves of her shirt. “What are you doing?” Beavo hissed.
“If we follow them, we might be able to get a clue as to what the next few issues are about!’ Kiki whispered excitedly.
“You don’t get it!” Alice exclaimed. “This is not just a nerdy magazine anymore, it’s the ruler of three continents! We could be intruding on government secrets… Wait!” Kiki slipped out of her grasp and rushed off.
Beavo said something that the GAPAs would have deemed zap-worthy and ran after her, Alice following cautiously.
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I’ve figured out a more specific plot. This is going to be epic.
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Would everybody in my fanfic tell me their present ages?
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32- Right now, I’m 15.
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21-oh! can I be in that one?
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21- Wow, I’m oooold…
I don’t think I was in this fan fic of PC’s. I think I was in the Omega(?) one but this’s a different one from the looks of it.
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35- Yes. I promise I’ll come back later and finish the Omega one. Particularly as I plan to have you and the GAPAs save the day in it.
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I’m 14, right now.
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I tried to tell you my age but right when I tried to my interenet died. I’m seventeen right now and my birthday’s April 30th.
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32-I’m twelve, but I’m turning thirteen in April.
PC, this is truly great writing! I’m serious. This is like, Ebeth’s NaNoWriMo quality. (And I really enjoyed reading that.) The part about the musePod? Love it. The only thing I would have changed is the statues of the muses. If I was writing it, I would have mentioned a little stone stump near the back, which was what was left of Urania’s statue. Just a suggestion.
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I am 14, and my birthday is August 21st.
34- Sure.
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39- I should have put more detail in, but they are the statues of the Muses after Urania was exiled. The new Muse of Business has replaced her.
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Alice and Beavo came to a halt at the end of the corridor. It branched out in two directions. They were baffled momentarily, but then Beavo caught sight of a flash of red hair going toward the right. He took off, dragging Alice behind him.
Kiki was concealed behind a potted plant, watching the Editors head into a conference room. The last one through the door tossed his keys, wallet and an e-file onto a side table carelessly.
Almost before the door swung shut, Kiki was at the table and had snatched up the file. She flipped it on, the sheet of electronic fibers crackling as it displayed the data. Eagerly, she looked down at the surface.
Then a cacophony of alarms, unbelievably loud, sounded from a hidden micro speaker in the corner. Panicking, Kiki dashed back the way she’d come, almost instinctively snatching up the keys and clutching the file tightly. Beavo and Alice were ahead of her, and all three had vanished into the connecting corridor by the time the editors burst out of their office.
“You- idiot- Kiki!” Alice puffed. She slammed into the elevator doors, frantically pushing the call button. Beavo impatiently pushed her out of the way and slid the slim form of his musePod into the gap between doors. He managed to pry them apart far enough to give his fingers purchase and shoved them abruptly back.
Then staggered back in astonishment as the express elevator whisked past, hurtling downwards. He leaped into the shaft, pulling Alice behind him. Kiki, making a choice between an apparent death drop and angry Muse editors, took the death drop.
Normally, a fall like that would have killed all three. However, the elevator had already begun to brake, which meant that it was going down just slightly slower than Kiki, Alice and Beavo. Thus, their landing on its roof was gentle, and by the time it stopped, they had only a few minor bruises. It came to a halt on the ground floor. Alice wasted no time in clambering up the cable and exiting through the elevator door on the second floor, again using Beavo’s musePod as a makeshift pry. Not a moment too soon: just as Kiki hauled herself through the door, the elevator whisked up again.
They believed that they were safe, at least temporarily, until Alice looked out the window and saw the police APTUs circling outside. Obviously, the e-file was more valuable than it appeared.
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41-Ah. Yes, I had quite forgotten.
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32- I am almost 13.
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A
Alice- 30
Kiki
Beavo- 28
B
purplefinch- 30
Cinnamon Moon-29
C
TNO
Traggle- 31
TMFA- 27
Widdershins- 33
I still need the current ages of Kiki and TNO.
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Mr.Canix- I think that all the GAPAS went with us to iceland, exept for pb&j, who went with unania.
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I know Robert would uphold Muserly ideals no matter what, i. e. go to Iceland, but I don’t know about any of the others. Besides, PB&J would probably stay in the UK, which is part of Iceland now.
Hmm. I found out TNO was born in 1993, which would make her 30 in 2023, but I still need Kiki’s age.
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(47) How could you doubt us?
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47- She’s turning twelve tomorrow, which would make her 28 in 2023.
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27-28.
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48- No! That’s not what I meant at all. I just thought some of you might want to stick with Muse and try and change it for the better, or go over to Urania. But I’ll put you all in Iceland. I have a plot idea for it anyway.
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I’m waiting until NaNoWriMo time to make my fanfiction.
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They ran as though a pack of genetically engineered killer tenrecs were after them, hurtling down the stairs, through the lobby, and out the side door into the APTU parking lot. About fifty of the saucer-shaped vehicles were docked there, resting on their rotating engines. A police APTU buzzed into view, sirens wailing, a speaker blaring. “Attention. Do not attempt escape or we will fire.” Alice panicked momentarily, then noticed the keys dangling from Kiki’s hand. She snatched them in a sudden burst of inspiration, then made a break for the CEO’s easily recognizable luxury APTU. Opening it, she leaped into the driver’s seat, impatiently motioning for Kiki and Beavo to follow her. Both did so, Beavo scrambling over the top and into the passenger seat, while Kiki took the single seat at the back. As the police swung around again, Alice revved the engines. The propellers spun, lifting the APTU off the ground. They steadily gained altitude as they flew away from the lot, weaving between video billboards with inches to spare. The bulkier and less maneuverable police vehicle wasn’t so lucky, pulverizing Kokopelli’s perfect smile in a burst of electric sparks as it hit the Crest advertisement head on.
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Killer tenrecs! I love it. And it seems quite fitting that the vehicle crashed into the smile.
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40-woohoo! should I write up a description?
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55- Yes.
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56-um, is it in the future? or just now? what year is it?
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Alice slammed back the throttle, and the CEO’s prized APTU shot out across the city’s skyline and vanished into the horizon above the spacious agricultural fields beyond.
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~~~
“No!” Widdershins yelled as her conker shattered and shrapnel ricocheted around the room. A cheer rose from the GAPAs, groans from the MuseBloggers. Paul Baker stepped across the arena to pick up his trophy, sweating after the grueling ten-minute bout.
Seated in the audience, TMFA grinned. “Wow,” he remarked to Traggle. “The Administrators have really outdone themselves this time.
The brown-haired woman nodded cheerfully. “No kidding,” she said. “This might be the best Kokonvention ever.”
“I disagree,” TMFA pointed out. “The best was probably July 2010.”
“This one has better attendance,” Traggle asserted, pointing out the audience of more than a hundred MuseBloggers, adult veterans and teenage newcomers alike.
“The attendance has nothing to do with it,” TMFA countered. “The ice cream alone gives Jul. ’10 the crown. And don’t forget the concert.”
“How could I forget the concert? I still haven’t cleaned the banana cream out of that watch!”
“I’m sure Gimanator and Agrrrfishi were very sorry afterward, but that isn’t the point. The point is that no Kokonvention could top Jul. ’10.” TMFA paused. “What’s on the schedule next?”
Traggle scanned down the itinerary. Tour of New Reykjavik, Pie-making, Conker Tournament…
Then she grinned. “Something that will utterly convince you that even July 2010 can’t match this one.”
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I just can’t belive how cool I am in all this fanfics!
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59-yay! I got mentioned without directly asking! woot!
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59- Sweet!!
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57- It’s in 2017.
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63-righto. I’m 23.
—————————-writing gimanator activate.————-
Gimanator is a sloppy, bearded college student. He is plenty smart enough to get around at his school, and pass his classes, but overall he is lazy, and his appearence reflects it. His shoelaces are usually in a non-untieable knot. Wearing a t-shirt, and jeans found lieing around in his appartment usually suffice for attire. At 23 years old, Gimanator feels self-sufficent and succesful at his current state. Gimanator has a basic training in fencing and martial arts due to his hobby classes. His shirt usually is covered in his cat’s hair from when she sleeps with him. His cat is named bianca and means very much to him.
——————————————-end—————-
is that good enough?
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64- It’s excellent, Gim. You sound positively sophomoric.
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65-I’d like to add a little bit more.
——————–
dirty blond hair
speaks french aussi(also)
christian(trys to act ethical)
brown eyes
definite sense of humor
—————————
there. that’s about all I wanted.
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Rebecca Lasley strode into the arena from her front-row seat. “Hi, everybody,” she said into the microphone, with a casual air that would never have suggested she was co-ruler of several fairly large islands and a rather enormous peninsula. “We’re all very glad to have you with us today. You’ve seen what we do and how we do it. Now, you’ll get to see it up close and personal. On that note, it is my pleasure to announce the GAPA-FOR-A-DAY CONTEST!!”
She handed the microphone to Robert Coontz, who graciously acknowledged the wild cheering before beginning to speak. “Thank you. To assume the exalted position of a Great And Powerful Administrator- how many of you haven’t dreamed about that?”
No hands were raised. Robert continued.
“Thought so. Well, it’s not just a matter of being handed a login code. You have to prove yourself before getting the reward. Rosanne, will you tell them the tasks we have come up with?”
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Rosanne took the mike. “First, you are required to make up a song about a well-known fantasy or science fiction book set to a popular show tune. The thirty-two most creative and/or funniest will be selected by us to determine the semifinalists. Next, you must write a short story on any topic. The other MBers will choose the sixteen best to select the finalists. These will compete in the finals: making up a poem in Middle English. Points will be given by us for correct grammar, humor and creativity. The eight highest-scoring will be supplied with laptop computers, Photoshop and Paint programs, and a bitmap image of a classic hot pink bunny.”
She smiled at the crowd. “I think you can guess what you’re supposed to do with those.”
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68- wow! if you ask me, youd win that hands down!
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A persistent yodel broke into Gimanator’s dreams, followed by the cacaphony of an orchestra of mixed inttruments which hadn’t practised and were all trying to play different tunes. Gimanator put his pillow over his head and shrieked into thew matress, “SHUT UP!” but of course there was no effect. Bianca dug her claws into his back.
As Gimanator pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, plucking a stray cat-hair from his collar, he reflected on hologramo-mechanoids. He had more reason than anyone else to be glad of the rise of this particular technology – after all, his dad had invented them, and if they hadn’t been quite so popular Gim might not have been able to attend such a good school – but sometimes he missed the days of snooze buttons.
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69- I tried to make them fit the personalities of all four GAPAs.
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70-oh woah. my dad’s a genius. I’m very proud to start off the story. That does sound a lot like me.
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70-oh woah. my dad’s a genius. I’m very proud to start off the story. That does sound a lot like me.
that’s so awesome. GAPA competition. cooleo. groovy. whatever you wanna say. Now to see who makes it…it’s like surviver. we all tune in each day to see who got eliminated.
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72- I’m afraid you didn’t start of the story. It’s been going on for ages and ages, but hasn’t got especially far.
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73- Actually, the competition will only be through the first challenge when the GAPAs receive three unexpected visitors* bearing a document that could drastically change the course of the Cold War.
*Vanilla ice cream to anyone who guesses the names of these visitors.
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74-*farting noise made with tongue* oh well…could you post the begining to now, so I can see what’s been happening?
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75-oh. by the way PC, if it’s 2020, and they have a competition, wouldn’t there be about one or two other GAPAs?
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75- Are they Kiki, Beavo, and me?
But if so, when will Purplefinch and Cinnamoon come in?
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77- No comment on grounds of probable spoilers.
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76- The story up to a certain point:
https://musefanpage.com/blog/?p=1039#comment-24
From that point:
———-7 Years Pass———
Beavo looked dismally around his apartment. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cleaned it, and it showed. The only tidy part of it was the telepost terminal, and that was only because he never got any t-mail. Boxes, both cardboard and plastic, sat among the heaps of experiments gone bad and jumbles of paper scrawled with various stories and letters. What had gone wrong?
“I hate this,” he muttered darkly.
“It needs to be done,” said the telepostman. He wasn’t bad for company, but sometimes it bothered Beavo that his only companion was hologramo-mechanico. He picked his way to the terminal and turned it off. Then he selected a cardboard box at random and began to sort the things inside.
An hour or two later, he was feeling a little better, and the room was looking considerably more tidy. The boxes were stacked against one wall, the paper was overflowing the garbage can, the window was wide open, and the experiments were tidied away in more boxes.
“Curse the population rise!” he said to the telepostman. “I need more room.”
“Quite,” said the TPM.
Beavo decided to sort one more box. It was full of photographs from his childhood. Himself as a baby, himself as a fourth-grader, all the things that grandparents and parents are supposed to have but always wind up in the house of the child.
Near the bottom of the box, Beavo found a small bundle of pictures tied together with a rubber band. His curiosity peaked, he pulled the rubber band off and discarded it on the floor, then flipped through the pictures. They appeared to be of a friend’s birthday party when Beavo was fourteen or fifteen. The usual kind, laughing teenagers, pictures of the cake, the presents, the games. But Beavo noticed on the back of his right hand a word in blue ink. It was Muse. It meant nothing.
He went over to the TPM and showed him the pictures. “This mean anything to you?” he asked.
The TPM peered. “It looks like a birthday party,” he said.
“Something like that,” sighed Beavo. “But it means something, I know it does. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Not the Muses surely, from the magazine? What were they called? Un-aria, Not… There were nine of them, I think.”
A persistent yodel broke into Gimanator’s dreams, followed by the cacaphony of an orchestra of mixed inttruments which hadn’t practised and were all trying to play different tunes. Gimanator put his pillow over his head and shrieked into thew matress, “SHUT UP!” but of course there was no effect. Bianca dug her claws into his back.
As Gimanator pulled on his jeans and t-shirt, plucking a stray cat-hair from his collar, he reflected on hologramo-mechanoids. He had more reason than anyone else to be glad of the rise of this particular technology – after all, his dad had invented them, and if they hadn’t been quite so popular Gim might not have been able to attend such a good school – but sometimes he missed the days of snooze buttons.
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79-ohhhh…
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78- They will come in later.
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Alice-that’s it? oh well. Oh, and, I’ve noticed a pattern in the past stoies, you know. We need to just follow one or two people in the begining and meet the other people, we can’t just garble it all together. The charactors won’t be more or less improtant, they’ll just come a little later, you know. Example:look at how the dreamland RRR started. I want to avoid that.
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83- That’s what I’m trying to do. You follow Alice, Kiki and Beavo for a little while, then I introduce TMFA, Traggle and Widdershins (and, a little later, TNO), and have them collide, then I introduce Purplefinch and Cinnamon Moon.
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84-that is good. I didn’t know if that was the begining of yours or not. apparently it is. good for you! I’m just warning alice.
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83- Yeah. I don’t actually care for my RRRs much. I know! Maybe I’ll abandon everything that was written on the previous thread and start over. I like what’s going on now better anyway.
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83- Yeah. I don’t actually care for my FanFictions much. I know! Maybe I’ll abandon everything that was written on the previous thread and start over. I like what’s going on now better anyway.
*I really didn’t mean RRRs. I just posted about RRRs on another thread.
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87-good. just make sure you don’t start out the same way.
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87-*groan* I swear, that won’t work. It never does. FINISH THEM or forever… have them not be finished… *akward*
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He fed Bianca, toasted half a bagel, and strolled out the door.
“Morning, Beavo,” he said cheerfully to the auburn-haired young man he passed in the hallway. Beavo looked distractedly at him.
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“Hi Gim,” he said finally, after Gimanator had been looking oddly at him for at least three minutes.
“What’s wrong?” asked Gimanator.
“Nothing,” replied Beavo. He went into his apartment and shut the door. Gim shrugged and stepped into the elevator.
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SO sorry i haven’t been writing fanfics, had a museblog ban for a while. new story update! (for original fanfic, click here)
Now, back to the other sixteen. They had all gotten out of the Chamber of Mazribul, but now there was a Balrog on their tail. Finally it reached them, but Gandalf stood between it and the others. “I am the servant of the secret fire,” he said. “You…shall not…PASS!” He struck his staff on the bridge, and the Balrog fell. Unfortunately, it was slippery (plus he had a Balrog whip around his ankle) and he only just was able to hang on. “Fly, you fools!” he cried, and was gone. “Okay!” said Feather, and flew out the door.
oohhhhh!
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*is just waiting*
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*ahem*
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Later!
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95-ok…I just wanna read them…they’re really good…
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But the thing is, I don’t know what’s going to happen next. i haven’t been thinking about it.
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97-I’m assuming I’ll question beavo some more, he’ll ask me about muse…follow other people or…remember some past plot, abou how the magazine was ended ten years ago or something, and we have to go fix it. just my ideas.
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98- I know…but how to do that…
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98-No kidding!
I guess we should remember what Muse is, but after you introduce another character. It dosn’t have to be a Muser/MBer, but that person can remind us of Muse. 
My NaNo is a Muse Fanfiction. I wrote (CHEATER you might yell, but I couldn’t help myself) some of it last night. Wanna read it? Anyone? *sobs*
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99-I’ll give you a boost.
———-
Gimanator stopped. “Beavo.” He heard no response, Beavo must not have heard him. Gimanator turned around. “Beavo.” He said more firmly. Beavo continued to walk as though he had not heard him at all. Gimanator strode quickly down after him. “Hey Beav.” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Beavo whirled around. “What, Gim?”
“You sure you’re all right? You look sick, man.”
Beavo was silent as he watch a cat hair fall from Gimanator’s shirt.
“Beav?”
“Hey, Gim, you remember how we got our nicknames?”
“Well, I’ve had mine for a while, I had it as an internet name-” he was cut off.
” It was from Museblog, the website from the magazine-Muse. Muse was bought yesterday be Smirks Inc. I just found out.”
——–
you might cut this. It’s your fanfiction. just to give you a boost back into it.
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100- I would like to read your NaNo, but that might encourage you to cheat further, so I won’t say that I do.
SHAME ON YOU!
Just kidding!
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101- That’s not the trouble. The trouble is that you already got into the elevator, and are currently on your way to school, while Beavo is inside his apartment.
Never mind. I’ll fix it.
~~
With one foot in the elevator, Gim stopped.
“Beavo?” he said. He turned and strode toward the door marked 12A. He lifted his hand and knocked loudly.
The door opened and his friend stood there, looking excited and slightly wild. Gimanator involuntarily took a step back.
“Oh, it’s you,” said Beavo, and began to shut the door. Gimanator stuck his foot in it.
“What do you want?” asked Beavo, opening the door fully again. Gim did not withdraw his foot.
“I don’t want anything, Beav. But what’s the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“That’s what you say, but something’s gotta be, otherwise you’d be in school. Where I should be right now.”
“All I’m missing is a lecture on social status. I’ll be fine. But you, I believe, are missing something slightly more important. Go.” He pushed his friend out into the hallway.
“Oh well,” said Gimanator, sounding hurt. “I tried.” He started back to the elevator.
“Gim?”
He turned around. “What?”
“Do you remember Muse?”
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Traggle turned to TMFA. “What do you think?” she asked. “Shall we try it?”
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102-I can’t write anymore because 1) I have writers block and 2) My consience would eat me alive.
WHUMP.
The Wall didn’t budge, but the pain in Joshua Stone’s foot increased considerably.
“I’m pretty sure kicking it won’t work,” said his companion, Lexi Fergasun. “I wouldn’t move either, I’d just kick back.”
“Shaddup.”
“Make me.”
There were a few more thumps, and Josh hopped around in a circle again, but this time clutching his good-until-a-second-ago leg.
“Well, okay,” he finally said, sitting down and massaging both feet. “We know that The Wall dosn’t move by asking politly, asking not-so-politly, bashing broomsticks, throwing boiling water, and kicking it. Or running at it,” he added. Lexi touched the bruise above her knee, the souvinere that she got for running into The Wall.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know, it’s horrid.
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105- It’s not horrid, it’s funny!
But you do need spellcheck. I won’t always do it for you. It’s politely, not politly, and souvenir, not not souvinere.
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103-oh yes. perfect. well, there you go.
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106-It hasn’t been spellchecked yet, because I just typed it up from the paper I wrote on. I’ll put in into Word later.
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Alice and Prarilius Canix, just to let you know, I’m copying and pasting your storys in Word and printing them. They’re such good betdtime stories 
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“Well?” Traggle asked. “You think we should enter?”
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Please, PC and Alice, keep writing! I check this thread every day, hoping to see more story!
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TMFA considered. “Why not?”
They made their way through the teeming throng of Musers to register, and then went back to their seats. Traggle bent her head over her work almost immediately. “Hmm… Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell… set to an English folk tune… or what about His Dark Materials?”
TMFA tapped his pen against the paper, still blank. He knew that a lot of people would be doing LOTR, so he didn’t want to seem unoriginal… What about Abarat? He hadn’t read that in a long while, though…
However, his song was not to be. The door of the arena flew open, and three vaguely familiar people trudged in.
~~~
“I’m not going to throw blame,” said Robert. “What’s done is done, and we may as well make the most of it. May I see that e-file?”
Kiki wordlessly handed it over.
Robert tapped the activation square in the corner and gasped in surprise. “It’s just a bunch of colored lines! Wait… I think I can discern one word… bold type, right in the middle. See it?”
The other Administrators peered over his shoulder to read the enigmatic polysyllable.
PHTHALOCYANINE
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Bwahahahaha! Evilleness is in the air.
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Gim frowned and his eyes became troubled. “Muse? What about it?”
“The kid’s magazine,” prompted Beavo. “There were nine Muses, remember?”
Gimanator’s face cleared. “Oh! You mean that Muse. I thought you meant…something different.” He did not stop to look at Beavo’s puzzled expression, but raced on. “Yes, I remember Muse. Didn’t it go out of business a few years ago?”
“2010.”
“Yeah. I think I stopped reading it a while before, though. I don’t remember being terribly broken up about it.”
“That’s the weird thing. I don’t think I cared. And I can’t find any of my back issues, either.”
“Funny.”
“But what were trhe names of the nine Muses? I keep thinking there was one called No-no-pelli, but that can’t be right…”
“It is. There was Ob, No-no-pelli, Not, Yawn, Un-aria and the rest, and they all had evil counterparts, like Kokopelli, Bo, and Pwt, but one for each Muse.”
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My last post vanished into thin air. Here’s what it said:
Gim frowned and his eyes became troubled. “Muse? What about it?”
“The kid’s magazine,” prompted Beavo. “There were nine Muses, remember?”
Gimanator’s face cleared. “Oh! You mean that Muse. I thought you meant…something different.” He did not stop to look at Beavo’s puzzled expression, but raced on. “Yes, I remember Muse. Didn’t it go out of business a few years ago?”
“2010.”
“Yeah. I think I stopped reading it a while before, though. I don’t remember being terribly broken up about it.”
“That’s the weird thing. I don’t think I cared. And I can’t find any of my back issues, either.”
“Funny.”
“But what were trhe names of the nine Muses? I keep thinking there was one called No-no-pelli, but that can’t be right…”
“It is. There was Ob, No-no-pelli, Not, Yawn, Un-aria and the rest, and they all had evil counterparts, like Kokopelli, Bo, and Pwt, but one for each Muse.”
And this one had better show up.
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It didn’t show up! GAH!
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Niether did that! Ulp! My email address is right…
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Alice, they’re showing up. All of them.
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Rebecca suddenly snatched the e-file. “I have a hunch.”
She walked over to the computer that sat quiescent on the dark wooden desk of the Administrators’ conference room. “Activate. User Lasley R.”
The computer hummed to life, projecting a holographic screen- but no keyboard. It seemed to be completely voice controlled.
“Photoshop won’t be good enough for this,” she muttered, then said out loud, “Activate Gauguin.”
A complex graphics program came up on the screen. Beavo peered at it curiously. “I’ve never seen that before,” he said.
“That’s no surprise,” the administrator replied, attaching the e-file’s interface to that of the computer. “I wrote it. Download item 3968.”
A picture of the e-file appeared on the screen.
“Filter. Color: Phthalocyanine blue.”
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(119) As it happens, Præriliu§ Cænix, phthalo blue was my first favorite paint when I was doing oils.
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112- I think that you should change a lot of people would be doing LOTR to a lot of people would be doing LOTR or HGTTG
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the plot thickens…I beleive enter next blogger…
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Rebecca gasped. There, on the screen, was a recognizable map of the North Atlantic. Prominent lines connected Iceland, Greenland, the British Isles, Scandinavia and Switzerland, all labeled in minute and completely incomprehensible script.
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funny. no alice fiction while I was gone. oh well.
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Wow, PC, that’s really good.
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124- Funny. I wonder why.
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126-oh. sorry. I just found out…*feels really bad*
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I know Alice can’t continue for a while, but PC still can! Keep it up guys!
Alice, you were doing so well! It’s horrible you can’t write for a while. No NNWM? *bursts out crying*
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Robert leaned over Rebecca’s shoulder. “Interesting. It seems to be a complex substitution cipher. Rosanne, what do you think?”
The other Administrator walked over and began to mutter about Gronsfeld ciphers, homophonic substitution and other incomprehensible terms. Rebecca got up and shrugged her shoulders resignedly. Paul Baker gestured to a comfortable chair beside him, inviting the bloggers to sit down. “They’ll be a while. Cup of tea?”
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129- Wow. Just a random thought that you might want to add into your story, but when I went to CTY this summer, I took a cryptology class.
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LoL, “cup of tea”.
Keep it up!
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***
Two hours later, Robert took off his glasses and moaned. “We go through every cipher known to man, finally get something that resembles English… and it’s gibberish?”
Paul peered over his shoulder. “That’s Chaucer.”
“What?”
“That’s Chaucer. Phrases from Troilus and Criseyde. Someone is using one of Chaucer’s works as a codebook.”
“So all we have to do is get the codebook, and we’ll know what it says!” Beavo exclaimed.
Rebecca slumped back in her chair. “Is this map worth it? We’re violating half the Bering Treaty just by looking at it.”
“This is not just the work of an eccentric guest editor with a bent for cartography and cryptology,” Robert replied. “Those are Muse military codes. You can draw your own conclusions, but mine are that if we don’t find out what this map is for, the Bering Treaty won’t just be violated, it will be torn into tiny little pieces and burnt.”
Rosanne rubbed her temples. “I don’t know. There’s something fishy about all this. If the map was that important, why would they have left it outside the conference room? And why was the encryption so perfectly fitted to our skills? It’s almost as if someone wanted us to find it.”
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Owt of thise blake wawes for to saylle,
O wynd, o wynd, the weder gynneth clere;
For in this see the boot hath swych travaylle,
Of my connyng, that unneth I it steere.
This see clepe I the tempestous matere
Of disespeir that Troilus was inne;
But now of hope the kalendes bygynne.
Ye knowe ek that in forme of speche is chaunge
Withinne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho
That hadden pris, now wonder nyce and straunge
Us thynketh hem, and yet thei spake hem so,
And spedde as wel in love as men now do;
Ek for to wynnen love in sondry ages,
In sondry londes, sondry ben usages.
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132-Bahahahaha! Sabatoge!
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133- Oops. Well, to be fair, I didn’t know how well you knew Chaucer.
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(135) Chaucer is ♥. Sorry, I seem to be in a silly mood today and couldn’t resist being a show off. As it happens, I wrote a paper on Troilus and Criseyde in grad school. And, coincidentally, one on Shakespeare’s play as well. So I was quite amused by your choice of literature.
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i hear chaucer 
yaaay! *applauds poem* i need to start a folder of MB chaucer poems…we should have another coy woodnesse thread
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(137) For the record, the above are two not-quite-consecutive stanzas from the introduction to Book II of T&C. (The poem continues through Book V.)
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Alice tuned out and sipped her tea. The warm chamomile did little to melt the coldly burning spike of anger inside her. She was probably the unofficial Public Enemy #1 in Muse. There was no way she’d ever be able to return to her quiet, cozy apartment in Chicago. She gained some comfort from the fact that her cats would be found and taken good care of. The animal shelter system was one of the few governmental divisions that hadn’t been completely messed up by Tardiff. Still, she hadn’t felt this lost since her house burned down almost twenty years ago. New Reykjavik was nice, and the Admins. were the best hosts one could ask for, but it just wasn’t like home.
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She forced herself to put it out of her mind. She had a duty as a Muser to find out exactly what this map meant.
Looking up, she saw that Robert was dialing a number into a videophone. He put the headphones and goggles on and began to speak.
“Hello?”
He paused, then said “I’d like to speak to Diana Lutz. Wait! Tell her it’s Coontz. Hello? Yes, I know you’re busy, this is important… Wait, let me send you the file…”
He turned to the computer. “Activate MuseMail. Compose Mail. To: dianal@urania.gov. Subject: None. Attach file. Item 3968. Send.”
He spoke into the mike again. “Did you get it?… What do you think?… Exactly. It worries me too… Hello? Hello? What do you mean, “send someone over?”… Hello?”
He deactivated the videophone. “She said she’d “send someone over.” I guess we’ll just have to wait until whoever it is comes.”
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Oh! Oh! Write more, write more! PC!
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141- I will, as soon as I figure out how exactly to do this next scene.
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142- I don’t want to rush you, but please! Please! Hurry! I can’t wait to read the next bit!
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143- I guess you must, since I’m planning to introduce YOU.
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AUGH! Keep writing PC! I’m dying here!
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144- Even better! KEEP WRITING! You wouldn’t believe how excited I am to read the next bit, whether it includes me or not! KEEP WRITING! Quick, before NaNo starts and you won’t have any time (probably)!
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Robert turned to the other Administrators. “Well, in light of recent events, we’ll postpone the rest of the Kokonvention till tomorrow. It’s pretty late.”
Alice wholeheartedly agreed. The flight across the Atlantic had taken several hours, and decoding the map had brought them solidly into the night.
“Dinner at He Sleep as a Marmot?” Rebecca said, referring to a popular inn and restaurant a few blocks away.
Beavo nodded. “And then bed,” he said, yawning. “Driving an APTU a couple thousand miles can be somewhat straining.”
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(147) Yay! Good to know He Sleep as a Marmot will still be in business. Best pie rum on the seven seas.
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148- Yup, you caught the Ships’ Logs reference. Makes sense, as you were the original ship’s cook on the good old Ferret. By the way, you’re welcome to come back any time your hectic real-world schedule allows, as long as you don’t mind collaborating with Kiwimuncher. We’re currently a thousand years in the future aboard the Zommer.
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(149) Kiwimuncher appears to be a great and imaginative cook. But if there are other openings, I might be tempted from my little island home….
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150- My current crew consists of Jadestone, Reiea (Alice), kiwimuncher, the man for aeiou, Fluffy, Eekeeknurknur, Deemo Elbunn, Ruffled Grouse and me. But I think there are plenty of openings, and we all miss you.
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PC! MORE STORY! PLEASE! I’M DIEING!
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152- Agreed, a thousand times over.
WRITE MORE. NOW!
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~~~
Alice awoke, unsure for a second where she was. Her alarm clock was playing the tune of “Let it Be,” with slightly altered lyrics. The bedspread was a violent shade of hot pink, and framed pictures of hot pink bunnies in various guises were tastefully placed all over the walls. An e-book reader was lying on the nightstand, currently set to Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell.
“Man, the GAPAs really know me,” she said upon viewing the last item, then got out of bed.
Once Alice had taken a brief but refreshing shower and gotten dressed, she exited the luxurious guest bedroom of the Administrators’ Building and stepped out into the quiet corridor. Beavo was shambling out of his room, his auburn hair even more explosive than usual. “Wha’ time is i’?” he inquired incoherently.
“Six-thirty,” Alice replied. “I set the clock a little later than usual. I figured I could afford to.”
“Later?!” Beavo’s eyes shot open, then dropped into their previous position. “Yo’r i’sane,” he mumbled.
“Get that hair under control,” Alice instructed him. “We meet with the GAPAs in half an hour, remember?”
She walked to the elevator and pressed the button for the second floor.
The elevator was prompt. The doors slid open in thirty seconds precisely, revealing the kitchen. It was empty- the GAPAs had either breakfasted early or weren’t up yet. Alice opened the freezer curiously. After shuffling through massive cartons of mint chocolate chip ice cream, she finally discovered a box of frozen waffles sandwiched in at the back.
Clutching the box, she made her way over to the autochef. She slipped four waffles into its receiving tray and began issuing commands. “Well done. Medium amount of Grade A maple syrup, dark amber.”
The machine whirred. “Initializing.”
The tray suddenly vanished into the autochef’s depths. Alice turned around to wait, and saw Beavo finally arriving from the elevator. “Oh. Good thing I gave the AC extra waffles. Is Kiki up yet?”
“Uh huh. She’s gone to meet the rest of the MBers who are coming to the conference.”
“Who’s coming, exactly? I don’t remember.”
“I’m not sure, but the GAPAs said all the most senior bloggers that could be contacted would be here.”
The autochef beeped, and four perfectly cooked waffles slid onto a plate, rich syrup spilling off them.
Beavo looked down in disgust. “Is this all?” He took two waffles off the plate, handed it to Alice, and put his own waffles back on the receiving tray. “Extra syrup.”
“Initializing.”
In a short amount of time, the waffles slid out, barely recognizable as solid objects beneath dark and limpid pools of sugary amber.
Beavo regarded them with satisfaction. “That’s better.”
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Is that good enough?
By the way, did anyone catch the subtle “Have a Pie” reference?
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We did.
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156- I see. Cool.
I’m a bit out of inspiration at the moment. I hope comment 154 is going to hold TNO and CMoO for a while.
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157- Unfortuately for you, no. Please, please, please, write more. I’m DYING here!
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158- I suppose I should take that as a compliment.
I shall write a very long segment tomorrow (hopefully), and that is ALL you will get until December.
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YAY! Except on the Dec. part.
On the other hand… You will post your NaNo, write?
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160- When I am done with it, I shall.
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As Beavo was mopping up the last drops of syrup with a shred of waffle, a Self-Motivated Audiovisual Telephone (Holographic) sped into the room along the thin metal track in the ceiling. It stopped in front of the counter and buzzed busily as its projector warmed up. “One way message to deliver,” it said. “From: GAPA Coontz, R. To: Occupants of Kitchen. Accept?”
“Yes,” Alice said.
A shimmering, three-dimensional picture of Robert appeared in front of them, cut off at the waist by the counter. “Change of plans,” he said. “Diana’s agents are going to be landing at the APTU pad up top. Come to the roof in fifteen minutes. Message ends.”
The projection cut out. “Response?” the SMATH asked curiously.
“Yes,” Alice replied.
“Standing by to record at the tone.”
“Begin.”
The SMATH beeped.
“We’ll be there as soon as we brush our teeth,” Alice said. “Message ends.”
The SMATH shut down and shot along its track, disappearing into the next room.
A few minutes later, Alice and Beavo emerged from the elevator box on top of the Administrators’ Building. There were five MBers already standing there, along with the GAPAs. One was Kiki. The others… Alice recognized a few. “TMFA, Widdershins… ” she muttered under her breath. “Who are those two?” she inquired of Beavo.
“Traggle and TNO, I think,” he mused. “What I’m wondering is, who are we meeting with?”
“Look!” Kiki shouted suddenly.
A large black dot appeared in the sky, rapidly coming closer.
It flew diagonally down and forward until it was directly above the Building. Then it dropped straight down, coming to a slow halt on the landing pad.
It was a large APTU, meant for two or three passengers. Completely black, it had no license plates or other identification except for a legend in flourescent green letters on the driver’s door.
C.U.B.E.
“Confidential Urania Bureau of Espionage,” Robert said, half annoyed, half in awe. “What is DL planning to do this time?”
The doors slid open, and two women exited the vehicle.
One was blond, with hair that was obviously intended to be neat but couldn’t quite manage it. The other had brown hair and hazel-green eyes. Both looked professional and efficient, dressed in dark suits with nametags. The first woman’s name was apparently Songbird- probably a codename, Alice thought. The other was Spice.
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And, since I’ve introduced all the main characters, that’s all until December. Toodle-oo!
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Tehehehe… I love it. You have the hair perfectly, too. (I’m assuming you’re talking about me as Songbird?)
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164- Yeah. And Spice is Cinnamoon.
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163- TTFN… You can’t forget this or I will reach through the net and strangle you.
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I’ll wait. If, however, I suddenly disapear from the blog, you’ll know why.
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166- Eek.
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154- You know me very well, Canix.
155- Yes! I did!
Once I get a computer I’ll work on mine.
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154-Whoah. Have you been talking to my mother or something?
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more…
Feather flew all the way over to Gondor(woah, he’s a fast flyer)and was mistaken by many to be the legendary Feeather. He tried to explain that his name was one e short of their bird, but they wouldn’t listen. Actually, he liked being treated like a king for some of the time, but he quickly missed his friends. He started to fly away, but the people suddenly saw and held him back.
oh, and could someone PLEASE give me their opinions on my LOTR/Muse fanfic? i would appreciate it very much.
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I’ll write when I’m not so sick of writing. Just letting you know I didn’t forget this.
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Alice-you have a computer, now, right? Write here! Write here!
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171- It’s got a lot of potential, but there are hundreds of things that you haven’t explored. Here are a few conversations that I think would give you a lot of insight:
Koko talks with Merry and Pippin (“A stolen firework? A bit of pipeweed? I can teach you some real tricks…. )
Chad talks with Gimli (“So, um, how do you forge mithril, exactly?)
Urania talks with Gandalf (“Elbereth? No, actually, the stars are gigantic nuclear…. Eh? Well, that’s how it is in my world… “)
Feather talks with Sam (“Oh! A garden back home! You know, I could help you out with that… “)
Pwt talks with Eowyn (“Man, you people have great horses… “)
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173- Uh, right. Okay. Later.
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humph…i like reading it…plus i lost track of pc’s, and im too lazy to catch up, much less capatalize my i’s…
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176- I lost track of mine. But I’ll write, if I can find where i left off…
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I have PC’s down in a MS Word document and I can read it at leisure.
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Far as I can tell, they were remembering the wrong Muses…Who was going to be in my story again? I want to switch over to someone else.
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179-I have yours too. Want me to post it?
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179- in the story, all I said was “tell them. the kokonvention.” or something simalir
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Ah weel. Back to writing.
——–
“Yeah,” said Beavo, but it’s weird you didn’t remember it either…a little fishy.”
“Quite so.”
“It’s all coming back now, though. Who else read it? I think I knew some people…”
“Yeah, some friends of yours, I think. You didn’t read it for the longest time. We were hard pressed to get you to subscribe…”
“WAIT a minute!” yelled Gim. Beavo flinched with the noise of the bellow.
“Whoa, what’s the matter?”
“Muse went out of business in 2010. But we met for the first time in 2012. And yet I distinctly remember knowing you before Muse went out of business.”
“Oh -”
Whatever was about to come out of Beavo’s mouth missed its chance, because suddenly everything went black for a good…long..time…
Da-da-DUM…
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181- Yeah. I had more planned for you, but it wasn’t turning out. I ended up dropping the entire beginning bit. But yes, you were in my story. Perhaps…
Got it. 
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For some reason, everything goes black for a long time a lot around here. *hides under bed*
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184- My apologies. You were too close to discovered everything.
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The blond woman stepped up to Robert. “You’d be the GAPA?”
“Er, yes, quite correct. Have we met?”
“Probably- I went to a few Kokonventions. Which Musers do you trust?”
Robert was obviously a bit unsettled by the woman’s blunt manner. “All the ones I know well are up here.”
“Good. We’ll need everyone we can get for the infiltration.”
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“Infiltration?” Robert sputtered. “Wait. If DL is trying to pull me into one of her crazy schemes without so much as a by-your-leave, you just tell her- ”
“Sorry,” Spice interrupted. “Everything’s been taken care of. The team is quite simple. Alice, Kiki and Beavo, because they know the territory; us, because we have experience; and anyone else you trust, as backup.”
“Backup? There’s risk involved?”
“Certainly,” Songbird confirmed. “We are, after all, trying to break into the headquarters of a corrupt government. Of course, hopefully, it won’t come to breaking and entering, but we of CUBE have no qualms about- ”
“Quiet!” Rosanne strode to Robert’s aid. “They’re adults, and it’s completely up to them whether they want to go on this crazy ‘mission’ of yours.”
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can some one post the LOTR thing with the “one ring to rule them all” in it here? I what to write:
LORD OF THE PIES!
a tale of muses, bloggers, GAPAs, HPB, Museica, and PIES!
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You mean the poem about the Ring?
Three Rings for Elven-kings under the sky,
Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,
One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne
In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.
One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them,
One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them,
In the Land of Mordor where the shadows lie.
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182-Ha! *laughs* that’s good. But, I have read muse, I read it a while ago.
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Continuing before Gim presses me. . .
——
The young man woke in a dark room. He groaned and rolled over, only to strike something soft and warm. He pulled back with a shudder, but it was too late. The thing had been disturbed. “Wha’ss gownon?” it asked.
“I beg your pardon?” said the young man.
“I said, what’s going on?” the thing articulated. It now sounded distinctly human.
“I haven’t the slightest idea.”
“Lovely. Who am I again?”
“I’m not sure. Come to that, I’m not sure who I am either.”
“Even better. Do we know each other?”
“I might be able to tell if I could see you, but I can’t. Since I don’t know myself at the moment, it would be fairly safe to say that no, I don’t know you.”
“Well, that’s nice. Splendid to meet you, by the way.”
“Likewise.”
They sat in dark silence for a while. Then–
“We must have amnesia.”
“Of course.”
“Amnesia gives one wonderful manners.”
“Indeed.”
The silence was longer this time.
“I wonder if we’ll ever be rescued.”
“I wonder if we need to be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is there a door?”
Further inspection revealed a doorknob about four inches above their heads, and a ceiling much to low to allow them to stand.
“It’s probably locked.”
“Have you tried it?”
He tried it.
It was locked.
“Maybe we do need to be rescued after all.”
“That’s what I thought.”
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TNO spoke up for the first time. “Well… we’re Musers, after all. Real Musers, not the ones from the corporation.” She laughed bitterly. “Funny, to think that Musery is being threatened by Muse itself. Anyhow… ” She took a deep breath. “I think I speak for most of the people here. We have a duty to find out about this.”
Robert turned and regarded her. Alice was thinking. Go back to the very place she’d just escaped? This was insane. But then again… TNO was right. They were Musers, after all.
“I agree.”
“So do I,” TMFA said, followed by a chorus of affirmations.
Spice smiled slowly. “All right.”
She pressed the Hotpinktooth cell-phone receiver in her ear. “Send the transport. We’re ready to go.”
A static-fuzzed reply crackled through the phone. Considering that it came from halfway around the world, the reception was very good. “Deploying Terpsichore.”
Spice turned off the phone. “Our ride will be here in two hours. In the meantime, who’s up for a game of Mostly Harmless Monopoly?”
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I am!
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191-oh. I see. Is that me?
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194- You and Beavo. I’m not sure who says what and I don’t think anyone will ever learn.
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193- I should design Mostly Harmless Monopoly sometime.
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EEE!!!
I love them both. Although you might want to think of another way to confuse someone, there seems to be a whole bunch of brain wipes in your MFF.
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197- That’s on purpose.
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here we go, with a new muse/museblog fanfic, LOTR and such. just the intro:
Three pies for GAPAish- kings under the sky,
Seven for the muse-lords in their halls of stone,
Nine for Mortal MBERs doomed to die,
One for the dark bunny on his hot pink throne
In the Land of museica where the hot pink lie.
One pie to rule them all, One pie to find them,
One pie to bring them all and in the pinkness bind them,
In the Land of Museica where the hot pink lie.
like it?
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note that that is a start…
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199- Lovely. Absolutely Lovely.
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201- thanks, but I need more like: “blah blah should be changed to blah blah.”
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202- Mmkay.
*reads again*
Three pies for GAPAish- kings under the sky,

Seven for the muse-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal MBERs doomed to die,

One for the dark bunny on his hot pink throne

In the Land of museica where the hot pink lie.

One pie to rule them all,
One pie to find them,

One pie to bring them all and in the pinkness bind them,

In the Land of Museica where the hot pink lie.
So . . . You asked for constructive criticism, be prepared for it.
Not that there’s anything really bad to say about it. But the first line could be aided by changing GAPA-ish kings to outright GAPA-kings (better flow), and the “where the hot pink lie” could be changed to something like “where the HPBs lie”. Or something.
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Four rings for GAPA kings, surely. And there are nine Muses.
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204-so it would be like, nine for immortal muses, trapped fore’r on paper? or something of the sort I assume.
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This reminds me of “The Dark is Rising” series. Very mythic!
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206-oh! I read those! good series…
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204- well, you gandlof. don’t complain.
let me rewrite, by alice’s suggestens:
Three pies for GAPA- kings under the sky,

Nine for the muse-lords in their halls of stone,

Seven for Mortal MBERs doomed to die,

One for the dark bunny on his hot pink throne

In the Land of museica where the hpbs lie.

One pie to rule them all,
One pie to find them,

One pie to bring them all and in the pinkness bind them,

In the Land of Museica where the hpbs lie.
anything else?
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does any one want me not to include them? (note the not)
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Do include me, please.
And may I be an Elf (Legolas or Elrond would pwn, but I’d settle for Glorfindel or Celeborn), as per Robert’s suggestion on the last thread?
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I DO want to be in it.
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By the way, PC, you asked why people associate elves with pointed ears. I don’t know, but there’s a hypothesis that other features we associate with elvishness may have been inspired by people with a genetic abnormality known as Williams Syndrome. Children with the Williams mutation have wide-eyed “elfin” faces and are extremely sociable and friendly, without a trace of shyness. They’re often mentally retarded, but they talk very well (and a lot) and love conversation and music. Apparently they have a much higher than average tendency to have perfect pitch. Some experts have suggested that the syndrome may be behind old stories of changelings, babies stolen from their cradles and replaced with young elves.
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212- That’s very interesting. Did you find it out with Wikipedia?
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No, my magazine, Science, published an article about it a while ago.
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214- Wow.
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huh. so what is elfiness is an elf face and not ears? so how did we associate it with ears?
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does any one what to do a RRR with the Lord Of the Pies? please?
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217- Sure!
So the Muses are the Black Ridersl? Muzegul?
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218- sure, what ever. who to be golum?
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219- Gollum? I’m not sure. Who here has been totally corrupted by pies?
And of course, the Fellowship will be Musebloggers, am I right? I’d like to be Praregolas Greenix.
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~~~
“Hah! I have a bunny on Kokopelli Street! You owe me two thousand dollars!”
Beavo groaned. “I’m bankrupt. You win.”
Alice didn’t get time to celebrate her victory, as a beeping noise came from the SMATH mounted on the wall. A full-size hologram of Spice crackled into life. “Terpsichore’s here. Let’s go.”
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220- Heh heh heh…
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Led by Rosanne, the assembled Musebloggers trooped out of the lushly furnished Game Room en masse and down a red-carpeted hall to a large steel door. Paul Baker entered a code into a keypad on the wall, and the door rolled back quietly, revealing a small, secluded harbor.
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The tranquil surface of the inlet was abruptly broken by a conning tower that exploded from its depths. A door opened in the side of the metal cylinder, and a masked, helmeted person stuck his- or her- unidentifiable head out. “Hurry up! Terpsichore leaves soon!”
He or she pressed a button on the side of his or her high-tech helmet. “Submarine Ortholinus boarding.”
The Musers filed in.
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TMFA stepped through the door and found himself on a narrow metal stairway. It was tight enough to be claustrophobic, but fortunately it widened out after three turns and ended in a small door.
The door was bare steel except for a gel pad in the center. Songbird pressed her palm into it. After a few encouraging beeps, it slid aside, revealing a room bigger and more splendid than anything TMFA had imagined in a submarine before.
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The carpet was luxurious and soft, patterned with stars and planets. Enormous, plush pink couches, with pillows in the shape of HPBs, were scattered about the room. The floor was flat, but the walls curved up into the ceiling, giving TMFA the distinct impression that he was inside half of a cylinder. A basket filled with back issues of Urania sat in the middle of the hall, and a refrigerator hummed quietly at the end. TMFA didn’t have to open it to know that it was probably stuffed with delicious food.
“Our guest suite,” Songbird said, “and our off-shift quarters. Bathroom’s down there, computers there, library there.” She pointed out three trapdoors in the floor. “We’re heading to Denmark. The Terpsichore will be waiting for us in Copenhagen, and will take us to Beijing. We’ll be briefing you there. Enjoy your stay.”
She and Spice left the room.
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209-I do want to be included, if possible.
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Let’s see. Urania was founded in 2013, and it’s 2023- so there have been almost 90 issues. So the basket could certainly be filled with back issues.
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228- I’m going to randomly write into your story.
TMFA sighed. he wished that the land were the MBs lived had a mag.
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I shall use that, because it is a good idea.
TMFA sighed. He wished Iceland had a magazine, but the GAPAs had never gotten around to it.
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229-Not alowed to do that, it says so on post 0.
In any case. I’m telling myself that I have to finish my NaNoWriMo before I can make a Muse Fanfiction. Although I might start taking descriptions and offers to be included pretty soon.
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I like myself very much in your fanfic, PC. Now… Keep writing.
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How does one say “Reach for the stars” in Latin?
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Eachray orfay ethay arstay inyay atinlay.
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Ealray atinlay, otnay igpay atinlay, oofusday. :razz:ay
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Ightray…an’tcay elphay youyay erethay. Orrysay.
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Onay oblempray.
Isthay isay unfay.
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Oohay, unfay indeeday, evenay oughthay Iay on’tday nowkay owhay otay aysay ethay ordsway ithway owelsvay atay ethay eginningbay. Elphay?
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Implysay adday anay “ay”ay otay ethay enday ofay ethay ordway ithway a-ay owelvay atay ethay eginningbay. Ikelay ouyay areay oingday ightray ownay.
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Ahay! Aciasgray. Iay asway oingday itay ightray enthay. Iay alwaysay antway otay ypetay anay “e”ay insteaday ofay anay “a”ay inay ethay enday itbay. Ewphay. Isthay isay ortasay ardhay.
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Ordway. Isthay isyay eirdway andyay angelyray addictingyay. Unfay andyay ointlesspay. Etslay avehay unfay ypingtay inyay igpay atinlay orfay ethey estray ofyay ethay ayday. KJay, Ililouspay Anixcay etterbay etgay ackbay otay ethay orystay oryay Imyay oinggay otay itebay imhay.
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Ikesyay.
MFA’sTay everieray asway TMFA’s reverie was interrupted by Widdershins speaking up. “I’m getting some lunch.” She crossed the extravagant carpet and pulled the fridge open, provoking a stampede of hungry MBers.
Several minutes later, TMFA sat back on the couch with a contented sigh. He then pulled up his feet smartly as a swarm of vacubots popped out of hidden slits in the wall, buzzing around the room and sucking up the various crumbs hidden in the rug.
Alice was the only one not present. Beavo inquired as to her whereabouts in the middle of a mouthful of dessert.
“I think she told me she went down to the library,” Widdershins mused.
In fact, Alice had just left the library and entered the computer room through a connecting door, clutching A Pillar of Darkness by Susanna Clarke. She stood in the dimly lit chamber, perusing the Mandelbrot screensavers that played silently across a dozen monitors.
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Whee, SC wrote another book! *happiness*
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243-You so need to continue yours or I’m gonna send my army of rabid face eating weasles across the net to tear your nose off.
No pressure.
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She glanced down at the floor and realized she was standing on a sheet of glass directly above a large plasma screen. Live images from satellites orbiting the globe were combined into a strikingly beautiful, constantly changing world map.
A yellow dot, tagged with the name Ortholinus, progressed slowly and steadily southeast through the Norwegian Sea. Trying to figure out where it was going, Alice bent down and caught sight of a red dot on the city of Copenhagen. It was labeled Terpsichore.
Alice got up and logged in to the Internet on the nearest computer. Without thinking, she typed in “musefanpage.com” and hit ENTER.
404 Not Found
With a sigh, Alice turned around and went back into the library.
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244- I like my nose! *types feverishly*
Actually, I can’t think right now because Opal’s watching “All Purpose Cultural Cat Girl Nuku Nuku” and it’s really distracting. She’ss stop in about half an hour.
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Excuse accepted [for now]. Anything with “Nuku Nuku” in the name must be distracting.
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247- Er . . . it’s over. New excuse.
I’m too excited about Christmas to think.
Okay, that one sucks. New excuse.
Can’t think of one. Maybe I ought to just write.
—————-
The Man For Aeiou strode down the hallway, fluorescent lights humming above his head. Doors slipped by on both sides of him, and behind them he could hear the clack and buzz of the machinery. He sighed as he remembered “Mostly Harmless”. How could that idealistic plan have transformed into something as wicked and black-hearted as this?
He reached the end of the hallway and stepped into an elevator, glad to escape the harsh white walls of the ground floor. The elevator was darker, paneled in actual wood.
He pressed a button labeled “B” and the elevator sank smoothly into the dungeons.
A minute later, he walked out into pitch blackness. With a mutter, he pulled out a flashlight and switched it on. The beam of light showed a hallway the twin of that above, but dingier and minus the light. There was no sound of machinery on this floor.
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He shone his flashlight on the doors as he walked, more from habit than necessity, because he knew exactly where to go. He stopped at the door numbered 42, reflecting on the sick humor of it all, and knocked. Silence as usual. But, unlike usual, he heard another noise, coming not from room number 42, but 43, across the hall.
TMFA crossed to it in three steps, and knocked, eager and scared. “Hello?” he asked, not too loudly for fear someone should hear. He wasn’t supposed to be here.
“Who’s that?” asked a voice, and it was echoed by another.
“Name’s –” TMFA began, but thought better of it. “Who are you?” he said instead.
“Gimanator,” said the first voice.
“Beavo,” said the second.
They sounded hopeful. Although it would seriously jeopardize his safety, he knew he had to rescue them. If you had done your rescuing a year ago, you might not be the only Muser left right now, his stupid conscience nagged him. But he couldn’t have rescued anyone a year ago. It was all too precarious. And anyway, it was better he just rescue these prisoners now, than regret whom he hadn’t rescued a year ago.
“Hello?” asked Gimanator from behind the door.
“Be quiet,” said TMFA. “I’m going to rescue you, but they can’t find out.”
“Who can’t find out?”
“Them. I can’t tell you. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try us,” urged Beavo, but TMFA shook his head and desperately searched his pockets for a lockpick.
There wasn’t one, of course. Typical. He groaned.
“What’s the matter?”
TMFA closed his eyes in exasperation. “Shut up, please,” he said. “I’m thinking.”
—
More later, when I think of how to get them out of this.
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Let’s see . . .
Gim and Beavo are clueless of everything Muse-related, and TMFA is the only Muser left (or so he thinks), having failed to rescue the other one a year ago (the other one, I suspect, is me. TMFA and I were partners in a conspiracy to overthrow the false Muses, but I was discovered put in the dungeons for something totally unrelated. TMFA couldn’t rescue me, and lord knows what happened to me). Now TMFA has found Beavo and Gim (where is Gim, by the way?), so this should be fun to write.
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After a moment of thought TMFA straightened up. “I don’t have a key,” he said, ” so I’m going to have leave now. I’ll be back tomorrow – sooner if at all possible. I have to get a lockpick.”
And then he was gone, and Gim and Beavo heard footsteps echoing in the hall. A sliver of light that had shone underneath the door disappeared.
“So we got rescued after all,” said Beavo. “I didn’t expect it so soon, but I’m not going to complain.”
“We haven’t been rescued yet,” warned Gim. “This fellow might not follow through. We don’t even know his name.”
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In 2017 (March, methinks)-
Koko du Pelle-20
Jadestone-25
Prarilius Canix-22
The Man For Aeiou-21
Gimanator-23
Beavo-21
Me-23
Huh. I forgot Canix was in this.
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Aw, I’m almost 22 in March of 2017. Me birthday’s in April, y’know.
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253- Fine. Maybe I’ll move it up to May.
Koko du Pelle-20
Jadestone-25
Prarilius Canix-23
The Man For Aeiou-21
Gimanator-23
Beavo-22
Me-23
There you go.
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why do I have be the hero? not that I’m upset.
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But hours later, there were hurried footsteps in the hall outside, and a beam of light shone under their door.
“Hello? Gimanator? Beavo?” It was their rescuer.
“Hello! Have you got a key?”
“No. A lockpick. But they serve the same purpose.” The lock rattled. The rescuer cursed softly. The lock rattled again, and this time the door opened.
Gimanator and Beavo flinched in the bright light, and stood up stiffly, still squinting.
TMFA saw two men of his own age, both slightly dusty and blinded by the light. He tilted it towards the floor so that their eyes could adjust.
“Hello,” said Gimanator. He had dirty blonde hair, and wore a t-shirt and jeans that were covered in cat hair. Beavo had wild auburn hair in rather desperate need of cutting and his clothes were black.
“Come on,” said TMFA. “We’ve got to go before they find out you’re gone.” And what will they think then? he asked himself. Will they remember that a Muser betrayed them before? He didn’t like to think about it. So he turned and walked quickly down the hallway instead. Gim and Beavo followed.
“Who’s they?” asked Beavo.
“The Muses,” TMFA said curtly.
Gim stopped. “The Muses…”
“Hurry up. We don’t have much time.”
Gim shrugged and started moving again.
“What’s your name, sir?”
“The Man For A – The Man For Uoiea,” he said. No one knew his real name anymore. He couldn’t hint that he remembered the original Muses, much less that he supported them. “You can call me TMFU,” he continued.
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I think it’s about time to switch to someone else.
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do you have a link? this sound like what I would say!
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by “link” i ment a way to see inside my head.
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258,259- Yup. How’d you know?
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That’s really good Alice, keep going! Well, I might actually be wearing dark jeans, not all black, but good enough. My mother stole most of my black pants. No, she stole all of them. *rants*
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The exited the dark corridor through a small door with a broken “exit” sign hanging above it. Gim and Beavo heaved sighs of relief at the sight of sunshine and the smell of fresh air. TMFA (or TMFU) shut off his flashlight. “Make a run for it,” he told the other two. “This area is fairly safe from them, but you’ve got to go quick or they’ll see you.” He darted a nervous glance at the high windows of the grey building behind them.
“Thanks for saving us, by the way,” said Beavo.
“Yes, thanks,” added Gim.
“You’re welcome. it’s the least I could do. Leave. Now!”
Gimanator nodded once. Together the two sprinted off.
The Man For Aeiou stepped back through the door.
At that moment a young man with blonde hair and grey eyes was walking briskly through the countryside of the direction of the Muses’ lair. He had been biding his time for the past seven years, surreptitiously doing research on Muse magazine and on his old companions, and he had finally discovered the location he was searching for. Unfortunately for him, his car had broken down several miles back and he had been forced to continue the journey on foot. His feet were beginning to hurt.
Rather reluctantly – he had hoped to reach his destination before noon, and that wasn’t going to happen – he stopped to rest.
He must have dozed off, because he woke when he heard soft voices and the cracking of twigs. Ever so slowly, he opened his eyes.
Two persons were attempting to slip by him, college-age men who both looked rather bedraggled and out of breath. Mud was splashed on the hems of their pants.
“HALT!” bellowed Prarilius Canix (this being the name of the walker).
The auburn-haired sneaker jumped about a foot into the air. The other looked no less surprised but slightly more composed.
“Who are you?” asked Canix.
“Er . . .”
Canix was very good at looking menacing. His eccentric tan greatcoat only aided this.
“Gimanator,” said the second sneaker (the one who didn’t jump). He extended his hand. “And you?”
“Prarilius Canix,” said Prarilius Canix. he took the hand and shook it.
“Nice to meet you,” said Gimanator.
“Sort of . . .” muttered his friend under his breath.
“What’s your name?” Canix asked.
“Er . . . Beavo.”
It hit Beavo at this moment that he remembered his name. He knew he hadn’t when he was in the cell at first. What else did he know? He fumbled through his mind, grasping at the slippery strings of memory. He was in college . . . his apartment was a mess . . . his friend was Gimanator . . . And then images of his younger days, but there were gaping holes in his memory. The morning before they were captured was nothing but static, like a broken TV.
“Gim!” he yelled, jumping to his feet. “What do you remember?”
Gim, deep in conversation with Prarilius Canix, looked startled. “What do you mean?”
“What do you remember? Of life?”
“Lots of things . . . almost everything . . .”
“When we were captured? Before we were captured?”
Gim frowned. “Nothing.”
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I know I really shouldn’t, but I’m gonna.
I’m gonna start a Muse Fanfiction.
Anyone who wants to be in it needs to give me a visual and personality description. Fanx!
Beginning paragraph:
Ten young adults crowded into a small deli in downtown Chicago and ordered ten cups of hot chocolate, one for each person. As soon as the middle aged waitress disappeared behind the counter to place their order, they began to babble excitedly among themselves.
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263- I’ll be in it. Description later, though you could probably sketch a fairly accurate picture from previous posts.
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264-Great! I know a tiny bit about your appearance, but not much.
This is a draft of the beginning. [Draft, do you hear me? DRAFT! It is not set in stone! I included these people for fillers, do you hear me? Fillers! I can delete you when I have more spots! So don’t get mad. Don’t get mad, do you hear me? NO ANGER.]
Ten young adults crowded into a small deli in downtown Chicago and ordered ten cups of hot chocolate, one for each person. As soon as the middle aged waitress disappeared behind the counter to place their order, they began to babble excitedly among themselves.
“Do you think he’s gonna go through with it?†asked a young, businesslike woman. She was the only person who was actually sitting at the group’s table; everyone else was standing, kneeling, or a mixture of both using their chairs as support.
“I don’t think so,†said a tallish man. “He wouldn’t. He couldn’t!â€
“Yeah, he would!†Another man, a bit more tanned than the others shook his long black hair indignantly. “He’d do anything to get control of Muse.â€
“That’s what you think,†interjected the shortest of the bunch, a woman who might have been called “Goth†if she hadn’t been in her late twenties.
“That’s what I know,†retorted the long haired man.
“Will you guys quit acting like kids for a second and pay attention to what’s actually happening here? Whether Darxxor and his gang are gonna go through with this plan or not doesn’t matter, we still have to stop him. If he doesn’t try to take over Muse this time, he’ll concoct some other whacky operation and try again.†The woman speaking stood to face her companions.
“Who do you think you are, my mom?â€
“Oxlin is right. We need to focus on him, not his bizarre plans.â€
“Who do you think you are, Beev? Einstein?†Two fingers protruding from the sleeve blacker than it’s owner’s hand pointed toward the man who had just spoke and made a circle in the general direction of his forehead.
“Very funny, FS.†Beavo reached up and smoothed down the explosion of keratin he called hair.
“It’s Frigid Symphony.â€
A woman laughed and leaned over the table to grasp Frigid Symphony’s hand. Her wavy brown hair cascaded over his arm.
“I don’t care who you are, you’ll always be my Frigedy,†she simpered. A hint of sarcasm broke through her adoring facial expression.
“Frigedy†caught it and shook her hand away. “I am not Frigedy!â€
“Are.â€
“Aren’t.â€
“Are.â€
“Aren’t!â€
“You’re acting like kids again!†warned Oxlin.
“Shut up Widdershins.â€
“Make me.â€
Across from Oxlin Widdershins a redhead rolled her eyes as she jangled twelve brightly colored wristbands. “Why don’t we leave those four to their bickering and actually do something productive. Personally, I think we should catch up on information we’ve gathered these past twelve years.â€
Taking the woman’s advice and ignoring the bickering four, the six left of the group huddled together on their side of the table.
“So, as I understand it, we’ve all been living in different parts of the world, correct?†started the redhead.
“Yuh huh,†agreed a two while the three nodded.
“Right on, Kiki!†said the last.
“Let’s hear a list of places,†she continued.
“Ontario.â€
“New Delhi.â€
“Wow!â€
“Yeah.â€
“Keep going!†instructed Kiki.
“Kansas.â€
“Wyoming.â€
“Washington.â€
“Am NOT!†yelled Symphony.
“Shh!†cautioned a passing waitress, on her way to serve a disappointed couple who no doubt were expecting a romantic evening and ended up in a tiny deli with a whole bunch of seemingly weird people who all had strange names.
“Right here in Chicago,†Kiki finished. “New Delhi, eh?†She indicated the short woman. “Interesting location, Ebeth. What brought you there?â€
“I was bored.â€
“Ah. True Muser, eh?â€
There was an awkward silence (from that side of the table, anyway) where the six were thinking how classic it was of a Muser to move to somewhere in India because he or she was bored.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
[Draft, do you hear me? DRAFT!!!]
Like it? [SLOPPY COPY! DRAFT! NOT FINISHED! GAWD!]
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FS is going to demolish you if he ever finds this, Beevs.
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I’d be happy to be in this one–I love fanfics!
Visual: (I’m assuming that this takes place a few years from now) A tall woman with short red-blonde hair, green eyes, an upturned nose and a wide and sometimes evil grin. She wears stuff that’s vaguely reminiscent of either the 1960’s or hobbits.
Personality: She’s pretty smart when she remembers to be–which is about half the time. She free associates sometimes but at other times she has a one-track mind. She is usually friendly and tries to help others, but it doesn’t always work because sometimes what she tries to say comes out entirely wrong. If someone or something gets her really upset, there’s a very large chance that something will get broken, by accident or on purpose. (i.e. she’ll throw something across the room) This connects to the fact that if there is something wrong, it is almost impossible for her to stop fighting to fix it, even if it would be smarter to retreat for a while. She is a diehard fan–any fandom she gets into, she’s in it to stay. She also can’t stand inaccuracy, so she has a somewhat annoying habit of muttering corrections when someone says something wrong. She (like all true Musers) has a store of ramdom information in her head, although it’s probably bigger than most other people’s. She uses this information to theorize about almost anything in a conversation.
Hope this is OK.
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266-Bring it! *whips out magic wand*
267-Thank you! *googles description* Ha! Found your house! And your social security number! *stalkerre beamme of doomme*
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Okay, this version is slightly altered in the beginning and added on to. Still a draft.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ten young adults crowded into a small deli in downtown Chicago and ordered nine cups of hot chocolate and a Sprite. As soon as the middle aged waitress disappeared behind the counter to place their order, they began to babble excitedly among themselves.
“Do you think he’s gonna go through with it?†asked a young, businesslike woman. She was the only person who was actually sitting at the group’s table; everyone else was standing, kneeling, or a mixture of both using their chairs as support.
“I don’t think so,†said a tallish man. “He wouldn’t. He couldn’t!â€
“Yeah, he would!†Another man, a bit more tanned than the others shook his long black hair indignantly. “He’d do anything to get control of Muse.â€
“That’s what you think,†interjected the shortest of the bunch, a woman who might have been called “Goth†if she hadn’t been in her late twenties.
“That’s what I know,†retorted the long haired man.
“Will you guys quit acting like kids for a second and pay attention to what’s actually happening here? Whether Darxxor and his gang are gonna go through with this plan or not doesn’t matter, we still have to stop him. If he doesn’t try to take over Muse this time, he’ll concoct some other whacky operation and try again.†The woman speaking stood to face her companions.
“Who do you think you are, my mom?â€
“Oxlin is right. We need to focus on Darxxor himself, not his bizarre plans.â€
“Who do you think you are, Beev? Einstein?†Two fingers protruding from the sleeve blacker than it’s owner’s hair pointed toward the man who had just spoke and made a circle in the general direction of his forehead.
“Very funny, FS.†Beavo reached up and smoothed down the explosion of keratin he called hair.
“It’s Frigid Symphony, Kat.â€
A woman laughed and leaned over the table to grasp Frigid Symphony’s hand. Her wavy brown hair cascaded over his arm.
“I don’t care who you are, you’ll always be my Frigedy,†she simpered. A hint of sarcasm broke through her adoring facial expression.
Frigid Symphony caught the hint and shook her hand away. “I am not Frigedy!â€
“Are.â€
“Aren’t.â€
“Are.â€
“Aren’t!â€
“You’re acting like kids again!†warned Oxlin.
“Shut up, Widdershins.â€
“Make me.â€
Across from Oxlin Widdershins a redhead rolled her eyes as she jangled twelve brightly colored wristbands. “Why don’t we leave those four to their bickering and actually do something productive. Personally, I think we should catch up on information we’ve gathered these past twelve years.â€
Taking the woman’s advice and ignoring the bickering four, the six left of the group huddled together on their side of the table.
“So, as I understand it, we’ve all been living in different parts of the world, correct?†started the redhead.
“Yuh huh,†agreed a two while the three nodded.
“Right on, Kiki!†said the last.
“Let’s hear a list of places,†she continued.
“Ontario.â€
“New Delhi.â€
“Wow!â€
“Yeah.â€
“Keep going!†instructed Kiki.
“Kansas.â€
“Wyoming.â€
“Washington.â€
“Am NOT!†yelled Symphony, ducking the small vase aimed toward his head. Water and flowers streamed over him, barely missing the doorway. The whole package crash landed on a tiny table near the door, upending a ‘Lazy Susan’ condiment stand.
“Shh!†cautioned a passing waiter, on her way to serve a disappointed couple who no doubt were expecting a romantic evening and ended up in a tiny deli with a whole bunch of seemingly weird people who all had strange names.
“Right here in Chicago,†Kiki finished. “New Delhi, eh?†She indicated the short woman. “Interesting location, Ebeth. What brought you there?â€
“I was bored.â€
“Ah. True Muser, eh?â€
There was an awkward silence (from that side of the table, anyway) where the six were thinking how classic it was of a Muser to move to somewhere in India because he or she was bored.
Breaking the pensive pause, their waitress returned, stepping over shards of glass and a smear of catsup on the carpet. She unloaded the nine mugs of hot chocolate and the Sprite. This silenced the previously squabbling side of the group’s table as eight picked up their cups in unison and proceeded to drain them of their liquid. The ninth raised his plastic bottle.
The tenth, the woman at the end of the table, reached up and twiddled with her medium brown hair. “It’s always to hot. I’m gonna wait first. Beavo!†She opened her eyes wide at what she could see of the auburn haired man – that is, his hair.
“Not these they ain’t.†Sporting a hot chocolate moustache, a face emerged under the crazy hair. The man clunked his mug down on the table. “They were just right.†He proceeded to tip his chair backwards at a dangerous angle and rested his knees right below his empty mug.
“Are you guys done arguing? Because we’ve been reviewing.†The tallest woman flashed her green eyes.
“Reviewing what?†inquired the woman with wavy brown hair.
“Locations, Shadowkat,†answered the woman.
Frigid Symphony snorted. “The only location a groundhog like you would be underground,†he muttered.
“I heard that. And it’s not funny. Just because I chose the name Groundhog…â€
A tall blond man stood, joining Oxlin, Frigid Symphony, Kiki, and Shadowkat. “And where were you guys?â€
Kiki suppressed a smirk –“Grow much, Canix?†and sat down.
Oxlin was the first to speak. “I live in Amarillo, but I was on, eh, a business trip in, eh, Mexico when I was called here.â€
Beavo spoke next. “New York, New York. Best place in the world.â€
“I beg to differ!†Kiki stood back up.
“Other than Chicago, of course.â€
She sat down again.
“I was hanging around in Jamaica until this meeting was called here, and I was having a good time too,†griped Shadowkat.
“Ooh, Jamaica.â€
Frigid Symphony sneered. “Jamaica? I never really left Sweden and there were so many places I lived that I can’t name them all. A calculator couldn’t name them all.â€
Kiki took charge again. “Okay, great. Now that we’re all settled, I have another question.â€
“So do I!†Alice piped up.
“Me too.â€
“Me three!â€
“Okay!†Kiki grabbed a bottle from the man she had called “Canix.†“We’re gonna use Prarilius’s bottle here. If you have the bottle, you can speak.â€
Instantly, there was a lunge for the bottle, and Kiki pulled it out of reach.
“Me first. Okay, my question is who called this meeting?†She looked to her right to Prarilius Canix, Canix looked to Alice, Alice looked to Ebeth, Ebeth looked to Groundhog, Groundhog looked to Oxlin Widdershins, Widdershins looked to Frigid Symphony, Symphony looked to Shadowkat, Kat looked to Beavo, and Beev looked back to Kiki.
“Nobody?â€
They all shook their heads.
“Let’s get out of here. We could be being watched. If nobody here called this meeting, somebody else did, and I don’t know their intentions. Why don’t we all scooch over to my place.†Kiki stood for the third time and reached in a bright yellow leather purse. “I’m assuming that we all took the bus or a cab?â€
They all nodded.
“Okay, we can take a bus again.â€
Her hand emerged with what looked like a twenty dollar bill. Except for a few small alterations.
First of all, the woman in the picture was easily distinguishable from Andrew Jackson. Second, the small letters under her face confirmed that she was not Andrew Jackson, but Urania. Third, the words “The United States of America†were replaced by “The American Region of Museâ€. And the last of the variations were the two signatures and small type near the bottom. These were not the signatures of a Treasurer of the United States or a Secretary of the Treasurer.
But no occupant of the small deli seemed to notice these differences, and the bill was left under a cocoa mug as the ten bundled up with various scarves against Chicago’s famous wind.
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Oh, yeah, one other thing–I’m Jewish and therefore keep kosher. That’s not a problem now because everyone’s going over to Kiki’s, and if I recall correctly she’s Jewish as well, so no problems, but that might come up later.
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Ooo- Beavo, can I be in yours? Asuming this takes place in the future:
Description- Tall, slim. Dark brown hair, about waist length, either hanging loose or braided loosely. Wears one braclet, normally quite loose, a watch, and a simple necklace. Clothes – Too-large T-shirt and jeans, with a scarf as a belt. Trainers or boots.
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The sub continued its steady progress through the Norwegian Sea for about an hour. Beavo was the first to notice a slight change in its course at the end of that time.
He was staring out the porthole, watching the jagged seabed rocks slowly slip by, when the sub began moving upward dramatically.
The Musers sitting on the couches were lucky- they didn’t suffer anything worse than a mild squishing, padded by the sofa cushions. The few people standing around lost their balance and were pressed to the floor by the sudden acceleration. Beavo clung the metallic rim of the porthole to keep from falling over.
The sub rocketed out of the water, the view in the porthole vanishing into white foam and spray. Trickles of sea-water poured down the reinforced plexiglas, obscuring the events taking place outside. Strange clanks and crunches echoed through the room.
When the last of the water drained away, Beavo saw to his astonishment that they were in the cargo hold of some enormous vehicle.
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Physical description: Small in stature, brown hair of no inconsiderable length, blue eyes, turned-up nose. Spends a good deal of time coordinating her outfits, and is usually wearing an interesting pair of kneesocks.
Personality: Cheerful and sarcastic, she speaks in a lingo all her own, a mixture of Elizabethan, Spanish, or anything else that catcheth her ear. she tends to dismiss anything having to do with emotions, but she’s nonetheless compassionate if she cares about the person.
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271- Oh, yeah, I forgot.
Personality- Can get moody and angry quickly, but always tries to put things right afterwards. Can’t bear doing anything mean and just leaving it, and always apologises, even if it’s only for something that doesn’t matter to anyone else. Has a tendency to dominate disscussions. Being sarcastic is one of her few pleasures.
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Cinnamoon sighed, and kicked the wall.
“Ow, ow, ow!” She hopped around, clutching her good-until-a-second-ago foot. “Stubbed my toe, stubbed my toe!”
She collapsed into an overstuffed, scarlet armchair. Massaging her big toe, she went over the facts in her head.
1) Somebody had broken into her house while she was asleep.
2) They had left her wallet containing fifty dollars, box of jewelry containing priceless items that she never wore, and her silk kimono alone, although all were in plain sight.
3) She had been awoken when the theif tipped over a family photo hidden in a closet, which had smashed.
4) The closet the theif had attempted to break into contained her complete collection of Muse.
5) She had chased the theif, and he (or she, for all she knew) had dissapeared seemingly into the east wall of her kitchen.
6) She, or any other object she had tried, could not dissapear through the wall as the theif had done.
With these facts, she considered how far she had gotten.
Which, of course was nowhere. In desperation, she had kicked the wall, only to displace her APC, or all purpose cleaner. She considered her luck that it wasn’t broken, it had cost her a pretty penny.
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Mzzzg. Wzzzg. Brain hertz. Eye hertz. ssf gannconn’t riaatwrite know. Waniat toa rawiewriat. uujiio;;u;o;mjji;;;;;;iiij;j;oijij;ji
Sorry. I will make an effort to control myself.
I’m uninspired at the moment, sadly, but I’ll probably write tomorrow.
My plan is that the Terpsichore (an enormous space plane) will take them to the city of Beijing, where DL will brief them on their mission. This is obviously going to be retrieving the key to the code in which the mysterious map is annotated, but I haven’t figured out the specifics. How can two trained special agents, three people familiar with the area, and four people who are just tagging along for backup infiltrate the most secure building in the Western Hemisphere? I’m thinking of sending in Alice first, because she works there and has the key- but she’ll have to be disguised, as Ronald Tardiff recognized her when she was fleeing with Kiki and Beavo. He won’t want the person who stole his campaign plan anywhere near the Muse office. Maybe I’ll disguise her as a new janitor.
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PC, you wanna be in my story? *needs you real bad*
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227777– Wwhhyy nnoott??
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“Would you like me to fix…your keyboard?”~Chad
Great. Thank you! You’re a main character.
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Dang. My computer’s being funny, so I lost a post. I’ll rewrite it later.
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Ooh, Beav, may I join?
Name: Answers to some variation of “Penty.”
Location: Chicago or possibly Toronto. You choose. If Chicago, probably has been meeting Kiki for coffee or pastry.
Physical Appearance: Short and slim, though perhaps not as ridiculously small as she was in her formative years. Long dark brown hair, with a bit of a wave if she hasn’t straightened it recently. Perhaps not as long as it was during her formative years either; those formative years were some pretty crazy things thur. Pale skin, with a hint of freckle to her cheeks. Vaguely Asian facial structure, with hazel eyes. She dresses first for comfort and second for fashion; to meet the Musers in a Chicago winter she’d probably be wearing jeans, boots, some sort of peacoat, and a red scarf. Obviously a shirt too. Unless you want her topless or something. Really, I’m quite accommodating about the whole thing.
Personality: Penty is probably XNXP, but usually comes out INFP. She’s fairly flexible, not in the sense that she can touch her toes (though she can) but rather she’s willing to listen to other people. However, she has a lot of contempt for people she considers stupid or controlling. She doesn’t like being ordered around, but will bottle up her resentment and make jibes. Her sense of humor is rather odd and quite sarcastic, and it’s often hard for other people to tell when she’s joking. Though she’s generally friendly, she intimidates some people and has very few close friends; she has trouble opening up to people. Cynical and snarky but very compassionate. She’s not particularly brave, but makes an attempt to be fair and truly wants to help people. She hates work.
What she’s been doing for the last ten years or so: Writing, mostly, though she has not yet become successful. For her day job, she waitresses at a local pancake house and writes when she has time. She still plays music and fence, as well as studying languages for fun.
Um, anything else?
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“What the hey… ” Beavo murmured, awed.
“What you’re looking at is the interior of Terpsichore,” Spice said, making him jump. He hadn’t even noticed her entering the room. “Pride of the Uranian space-plane fleet.”
“But that’s impossible!” Widdershins gasped. “To fit the submarine inside it, the plane would have to be… ”
“Colossal.” Songbird nodded. “We’re years ahead of Muse in almost all areas of technology- but what they lack in advancement, they make up for in sheer firepower, which is why the Cold War exists at all. We’re lifting off. I suggest you sit down and brace for the acceleration.”
“But what’s the point of using this gigantic, superfast thing to take us to Geneva? It’s like driving a Formula 1 to the grocery store,” Kiki piped up. “We are going to Geneva, aren’t we? I mean, that’s the capital of Urania… ”
Traggle looked at her strangely. “You’re a bit behind on world affairs… ”
Alice looked up from her 800-page book. “All we’ve heard about Urania for the past five years is Tardiff’s propaganda. Enlighten us, please.”
“When the Cold War began,” Songbird explained, “DL realized that Geneva was too close to Muse for comfort. So we moved the capital to Beijing. We’re separated from Muse on one side by two continents, and on the other by the Pacific Ocean.”
“But Australia’s a Muse territory, and that’s about as close to Beijing as Muse was to Geneva in the first place,” Beavo said, puzzled.
Spice smiled. “Good thinking, but Australia doesn’t have any military force to speak of. It’s the Americas that we’re worried about. They’re the center of Muse’s power. Beijing is safest. And that’s where we’re heading now.”
The C.U.B.E agents sat down on the couches without further ado, and Beavo hurriedly followed suit.
~
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question for POSOC: is iceland still called iceland? or is it called something else?
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281-Sure. *stalker beam*
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cinnamoon suddenly jumped out of the blue armchair. She hadn’t really looked around the place where the theif dissapeared, maybe he left something behind.
She raced to the kitchen. Immidiatly, she slipped on a copper pot and went sliding into the new APC.
“Foohey.”
But as she picked herself off of the shiny black cube, a glint caught her eye.
“What’s this?”
She slid her fingers under the APC’s stand, and moved them around a bit.
“Aha!” She exclamed, closed her fingers, and withdrew them.
A shiny silver keychain with a small pie on the end was clasped in her fingers. And she had definatly never bought this. It must have been from the theif. Wrapping it in her scarf, she pranced out of the kitchen and up the padded stairs to investigate the small object.
*****
Plink!
“Damn.”
Pentitonik reached into her glass of water and pulled out a shiny, silver keychain with a pie at the end. “I’m always dropping this,” she explained to the hooded man sitting in front of her. “Shall we resume the game?”
“Naw, I think I’ve had enough,” he said and stood up. “See you.”
“Bye!” Penty waved at the stranger she had just played a wonderful game of Mostly Harmless with. He dropped his half-dollar size copper Pie into a slot near the door of Dunkin’ Donuts, grabbed the newly materialized Personal Ground Transportation Scooter (more commenly known as PGTS), and speeded away.
She cleared off the board and dumped the contents into the cardboard box it had come in. She then placed her keychain ring with the pie chain in her purse. And following the same routine as her shady game companion, she scootered to her apartment.
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283- It’s still called Iceland, although it has now expanded over Scandinavia and the British Isles.
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After five minutes with an imprecise online English-Latin dictionary protracted research, I have discovered that the Uranian motto (reach for the stars) is “pervenio tenus astrum.” That is probably quite grammatically incorrect. Could any of the GAPAs help me out?
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284- Are you spelling thief “theif” on purpose?
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beevs, do you still need characters?…. this is the thread to go to right… *looks around uncertainly*…. you can use me if ya want.
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Beijing, Urania is the most flamablamapwnsome city I’ve ever come up with in a Muse fanfic.
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284 (Beavo)- Pentatonikk. Don’t worry, half the time I don’t even know how to spell it.
I’m thinking of starting an alternate universe Muse fanfic. Takers?
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290- Me!
Appearance: Blond hair, bluish-grey eyes, fair skin. Cracks knuckles a lot. Often wears jeans, tennis shoes, short-sleeved T-shirt with an unbuttoned plaid flannel shirt over it.
Personality: Compassionate and tries to be helpful, but can be extremely scathing and sarcastic if one gets on nerves. Very intelligent and a bit vain. Cautious and paranoid.
Important facts: Allergy to all dairy products (cheese, milk, chocolate.)
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Just found this thread. Most entertaining
290- Me if you want, I suppose.
Appearance: Medium Brown hair with red undertones reeaches the middle of my back. Army green eyes. Wears jeans. Always jeans. Men’s work boots and an over sized flannel shirt. About 5″2′
Personality- Quiet unless in control of a group. Then…uh… forceful. Extremely cynical. Likes to laugh.
I am considering starting one…
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290- me! look around for data.
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291-3- Most excellent. You shall appear soonish.
Chapter One: In Which the Writers Take a New Member
Through the small ventilation slit in the roof, the young woman could see that the moon was a few days away from being full. Still, it was enough light for her to be able to see what lay below her: an endless wooden stairway. Pulling the woolen hat farther down over her distinctive red hair, she glanced one last time at the sky, searching for the sign that she was to begin her mission. But while she could see the moon and even a couple of stars, there was no sign of the aeronaut that had, presumably, dropped her here. She would have to do this one alone.
Pushing her bracelets up her thin arms so they wouldn’t jingle and give her away, she carefully hopped over the rotting first step and set off on her way down. There was a railing, but she didn’t use it. As she descended it grew darker, until she could barely see the step in front of her. She had no idea how long she had been on the stairs or how much longer she had left, and only a vague knowledge of what awaited her after she reached the bottom.
The silence was oppressive. She wasn’t sure she could have talked, even if she’d wanted to—which she usually did. The tower stair was too claustrophobic, though; it felt as though there was barely enough air in here for her to breathe, and certainly not enough to speak with. Besides, she had this nagging sensation that she was supposed to be stealthy, though she wasn’t exactly sure why. It wasn’t as though she was supposed to be infiltrating a secret meeting (although that would make for an excellent start to a story) or anything else that required a degree of secrecy—not as far as she could remember, anyway.
Come to think of it, what exactly was she doing here? The near-complete uncertainty was an odd sensation for her. She could remember an aeronaut, or at least she thought she could, and the order to be silent. But who had piloted the aeronaut, and who had given her the order?
As it turned out, she promptly forgot both questions, and would not get a chance to ask either for some time, since the board under her left foot chose that moment to give out. She grabbed the railing to prevent her whole leg from going through, wincing both at the pain and the loud clatter her shoe made hitting the steps below. “Ow,†she hissed, gritting her teeth. Gingerly, she eased herself into a sitting position on the last safe step, then turned to extracting her leg with a minimum of splinters.
“Stupid, stupid…whoever these people are—they ought to check their stupid staircase once in a while to make sure nobody dies on this thing—ow, that hurts.†As she rambled on, her heartbeat began to return to its normal rate and the hundreds of throbbing splinters to hurt less. She would have liked the time to pull out some of the larger splinters, but something told her that she had to press on. So she stood up, still clutching the railing, and stretched her good leg down over the treacherous step. She tested the wood with her foot before putting her weight on it, then brought her other leg down. Ouch. This staircase had better end soon; she wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take.
Then, to top it all off, she heard voices. Getting louder. Coming up the stairs. In other words, towards her. She pressed herself in the wall, cursing the decision not to bring her chameleon projector along. It wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny, but it was better than just standing still and hoping not to be seen. Despite her predicament, she couldn’t help but lean over to catch the conversation going on below.
“…think they’re spying on us?†The voice was a woman’s, low and faintly nasal. It sounded familiar, but she wasn’t sure where she’d heard it before.
“I don’t think so. ‘Tis unlikely, at least, since we’ve been so careful.†This voice was also female, but she didn’t recognize it at all.
“I guess. I don’t see how they could get someone in through the tower anyway.â€
“Not without a terrific racket, anyway. We’d have heard something.â€
“It’s probably just the Chairman trying to make a dramatic entrance—What’s that?â€
The voices were coming from right below her, and she guessed that they had found her shoe. She lay flat against the wall again; they were close enough to hear without sticking her neck out. Breathing as quietly as she could, she listened for the voices again.
“…a shoe,†the second voice was saying.
“Yes, I can see that it’s a shoe,†said the first. “What I want to know is—â€
“—what it’s doing in our tower,†the second finished. “Yes, obviously you’d be wondering that.â€
Then the beam of a fulguric torch flooded through the hole in the step. The woman covered her eyes so it wouldn’t blind her.
“That could be fresh. And the Chairman wouldn’t do something so foolish as walk on a rotten step,†said the second voice.
“Here, I think we’ve got her. Gimme the torch.†There was the sound, very close, of the torch changing hands, and then a hot beam of fulguric light washed over her body. She opened her eyes, only to find the blurry sight of…nothing. Her eyes weren’t much good without her oculi, but she could distinguish between a human form and a wall. And there were most certainly no human forms here.
“Is anyone there?†she said cautiously, hunting in her pocket for her lavender polymer oculi. There was no reply. “Are you…â€
She didn’t finish her sentence, because she had to resist the urge to slap her forehead. Of course they were using a chameleon projector to hide themselves. She would have done the same, if she’d had a projector to use.
“Oh, this one’s bright,†said the first voice. The woman found her oculi and settled them over her eyes, but only a second before a pie smashed into her face.
***
Great literature it ain’t, but at least it’s fun. Can you identify the bloggers that have appeared so far for a reward of chocolate?
Also, a dictionary of terms that are different in this universe and their equivalents in ours. Most of them should be fairly easy to figure out.
aeronaut: some sort of aircraft
chameleon projector: a device that conceals the user by projecting what’s behind them in front of them, sort of like the invisibility cloak featured in Muse that one time
fulguric: electric (from Latin fulgur, lightning)
fulguric torch/torch: flashlight (this one should be obvious to Brits)
oculi: glasses
polymer: plastic
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290-Ooh! Pick me! My description’s at the top of the page but I’ll repost it… with a few corrections…
Visual: About five two, ear lobe length mad scientist like dark auburn hair. Dark brown eyes. Very pale skin. About fifteen written messages on each hand. Wearing black and green skateboarding shoes with untied laces, semi-baggy jeans that usually drag on the ground and the overly large pockets filled with objects such as rubber bands and paper clips, complete with a black belt and little gold (but really bronze) circles around it. Either a black T-Shirt (on eville feeling days) featuring some picture on it, or a black and grey long sleeve with a row of black guitars. If it’s cold, wearing a black hoddie with some random logo (I still haven’t figured out what), and usually tends to have little black MP3 ear buds sticking out of ears and into pocket. Pulls out wallet (light brown with a green eagle) often and looks though it for no reason. Tendancy to crack one knuckle at a time.
Personality: Wacky and humerous when in public and/or around friends, but more serious when alone and/or with best friend. ALWAYS cynical of everything, ALWAYS sarcastic. Compassionite when I want to be. Un-permeable when I don’t. Mega, mega, hugely paranoid that somebody’s always watching. Either has no care or feels strongly for something, almost never in between.
Mastery of: Blackmail, “I wouldn’t care if the world suddenly blew up” faces, The Emo Voice, and debating.
Wannabe Mastery of: Straight hair, straight hair, not looking like Jimmy Neutron getting out of bed, and straight hair. And a muscle or two would be nice as well.
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290- Oooo! Pick me! *Waves hand around in air* Description in 271, and 274.
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Is it too late for me?
I have dark blond hair (with two little frizzies on the side), with blue/grey eyes. I’m 5’5-ish, and a kind of quiet face (sigh), and some freckles. I would probably be wearing jeans, or a skirt, with some kind of shirt (So helpful, I know). Yeah… If you need any more character traits, just ask. Or you can make them up…
re-posts
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I’m going to start one. Any takers?
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Kiki the Great has appeared in Penty’s fanfic so far. I haven’t been able to identify either of the others.
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((Beavo- I hope you don’t mind that I make you violently space-sick. Someone has to be- I chose you at random.))
The weight they had felt under the acceleration of the Ortholinus was as nothing to this. Beavo was driven back into the couch, lungs starving for air. Alice couldn’t move a finger without becoming exhausted, and her book was an impossibly heavy weight on her lap. Ominous creaks and groans came from the metallic structure around them, as well as from the mouths of other MBers.
After an eternity of five minutes, the weight suddenly lessened, and for the first time in his life, Beavo entered zero gravity.
It was not an enlightening experience at first. He flailed around in midair like a crippled fish, going in every direction but the one he wanted to. The rest of the guests were no better off. TMFA gazed enviously at Spice and Songbird, who had immediately pushed off the floor upon escape from the Earth’s pull. They were now gracefully gliding through the welter of confused Musers, making minor course adjustments pushing off the occasional bulkhead or drifting HPB pillow.
“We apologize for the lack of artificial gravity,” Songbird said, “but we haven’t been able to invent it yet.”
Oh, very witty, Beavo thought bitterly as he collided with the wall for the fifth time.
~
Thanks to the infinite adaptability of the human race (as well as a quick lesson from Spice), the company soon adjusted. Widdershins and Alice became particularly expert; they were soon floating upside down, discussing A Pillar of Darkness animatedly as the book in question drifted in front of them.
To Beavo, the sensation of weightlessness was still extremely odd. He felt as though he had a bad cold in the head- Songbird had assured him that it was due to the blood rushing upward more forcefully than usual, as the heart was used to compensating for the constant downward pull of gravity. He also was beginning to feel a bit nauseous.
This feeling steadily increased to a point where it could no longer be borne. Beavo wrenched open one of the trapdoors and propelled himself awkwardly down the hall below, heading in the general direction of the men’s washroom.
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300-I don’t mind, although it would un-charictaristic of me. I don’t have a weak stomach. I only throw up when I’m actually really really sick.
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301- Well, weightlessness affects everyone differently. Who knows. I certainly didn’t- chose you completely at random.
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I recently had an idea, as follows:
In a totalitarian, F451-like future world, the last Muser alive steals a time machine and flees to the 18th century, bringing her prized collection of banned Carus Publishing magazines with her. But she is mortally wounded during her escape, and with her dying breath collapses on the doorstep of a certain Philadelphia printer with a predilection for electrical experiments, clutching an armful of back issues of Muse.
The printer sees the dates on the magazines, the strange clothes his deceased visitor is wearing, and (considerably later) discovers the wrecked machine, far beyond any technology in the world at the time, hidden nearby. The clincher is finding an article about himself, and one of his experiments- carried out successfully- that as far as he knows is still in the planning stages. Being a bright sort of chap, he puts two and two together and arrives at the incredible conclusion. In disbelief, he begins to examine the publications.
They are printed in a curiously corrupt form of English, and some of the things they refer to are beyond understanding, but many of the articles are both comprehensible and fascinating. Perusing the vast collection, he gains an understanding of the universe that would astonish any other man of his era.
The printer is, as has been said, no fool, and has heard the rumors spreading like wildfire through backstreets and boarding-houses, as well as the definite confirmations coming from far more reliable sources A revolution is coming, and he considers it his duty to aid his fellow countryman in whatever capacity he can, be it physical- or intellectual…
I leave the rest to your fertile imaginations.
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303- Heeheehee Veeeeeeeeeeery entertaining.
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ooh. hehe. yeah…just caught up on Alice’s…well. I’m back…*has nothing to say**feels awkward*whay no, um mister popopo, this post had a very hehee uhh big purpose, I…noooo! not my choklit…aaaaaaaah!
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304- You guessed who the printer was, right?
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306- is it Ben Franklin?
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307- Correct.
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Uh, duh! *headdesk*
That’s an interesting idea, POSOC. We could all write an alternate ending, and post them, we would get a whole bunch of different stuff.
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306- Of course. Not only do I share his birthday, but I was also born in the city he designed.
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290- Is it too late to be in it? I want to be, if it’s not. My description’s in 273.
Penty- Kiki and Grant O. are both in your fanfic so far.
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POSOC, is there any particular reason why I’ve been almost non-existent in your fanfic since Mid-October? I hope I don’t sound mean, but I am wondering…..
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New thread time?
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About right, maybe. Although I need more people in mine. Takers?
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312- You’ve changed your name a lot. Who do I refer to you as, again? Are you Traggle? If that’s the case, don’t worry- you’ve got a big scene coming up.
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Yeah, I am/was Traggle.
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ATTENTION PLEASE.
THE TEASER IN POST 303 IS NOW OPEN TO CONTINUATION.
THIS IS NOT AN RRR.
PER BEAVO’S SUGGESTION, EACH PERSON WHO WISHES TO MAY WRITE AN ALTERNATE ENDING BUILT OFF OF THE TEASER.
THE ONLY REASON I AM NOT CLAIMING COPYRIGHT IS BECAUSE I ALREADY HAVE ONE MUSE FANFICTION GOING, AND I WANT TO FINISH IT BEFORE STARTING ANOTHER.
I AM WILLING TO PAY WHATEVER FINE THE POPOPO CHARGES FOR THIS CAPS-LOCK POST.
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317-Well, I wouldn’t normally charge you, but if you’re offering, if you wish I would happily take 5 pieces of chocolate
Red-tailed HAWK
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Continuing my original story.
~~
Beavo emerged a few minutes later, slightly pale but not in bad shape, to see Traggle drifting in the passage outside. She smiled slightly. “You too, huh?”
Beavo laughed nervously, his normally messy hair now looking as though someone had plugged it into a high-voltage socket. “Yeah. Probably just nerves- I don’t usually get seasick.”
“No wonder. You realize what we’re getting ourselves into?”
“Well, let’s see. We’re about to infiltrate the third most secure building on the planet- which is owned by a megalomaniac, by the way- find a top-secret codebook, also in possession of said megalomaniac… ”
“And get out with both the book and our lives,” Traggle completed. “Assuming it’s even a book. It could be a computer program whose source code is stored away in a databank half a mile below the Chicago Deep Subway.” She sighed. “This is crazy. To be frank, I’m scared.”
“All of us are. Well, except Spice and Songbird, maybe.”
“Of course. They’re experienced C.U.B.E. agents, whereas we’re just typical MBers. Why on earth are they taking us all? Wouldn’t they be harder to detect if it was just both of them, instead of a huge crowd?”
Beavo shrugged. “Who are they, anyway? One of them looked vaguely familiar. Songbird. Where have I seen her before?”
“She said she’d been to a Kokonvention,” Traggle mused, pinwheeling slowly in midair. “She must be an MBer. Most of the higher-ups in C.U.B.E. are ex-Kokommandos- oh, drat it…”
Her necklace had fallen off and was languidly slithering towards the far wall. She pushed off the floor and snatched it up mid-flight. “We really should have thought before we did this. Who knows whether we’ll all come out alive?”
Beavo shuddered. “Well, we all can depend on each other. Musers stick together. We ought to hope for the best…”
“And prepare for the worst.” Traggle ricocheted off the ceiling and floated gracefully through the trapdoor.
~~
“Come on! You can’t pretend you haven’t always wanted to know what happened afterward!” Alice exclaimed.
“That’s the point!” Widdershins shot back, gesticulating wildly. “It completely ruins the mystery! She shouldn’t have done a sequel!”
“Still, you have to admit that the scene in Pity-Me where Norrell loses his temper- and his wig- is pretty funny. And the one where Stephen Black goes before the Raven King…”
“I’m not saying it didn’t have its good points- in fact, the plot and the writing were excellent. It’s just that the whole premise ruins it.”
“Keep it down!” Kiki snarled. “Some of us are trying to read!”
Widdershins performed a 180 degree spin in order to read the title of Kiki’s book. “Another one? Don’t tell me he’s still writing those pieces of- ”
“NO!” TMFA launched himself between the two women. “You are not having this argument in here! I’m still paying off the damage bill from He Sleep As a Marmot! Do you know that the manager sent me an itemized list of everything that got sm- hang on, gravity’s coming back… ”
In fact, it was a very gentle downward pull at first. Most of the hovering Musers slowly sank to the floor. Which was a good thing, as it turned out, because the attraction quickly reached normal Earth levels.
“Terpsichore’s beginning to glide,” Spice reported, sticking her head through the door. “You’d best follow me.”
Still shaky from their sojourn in microgravity, the rest of the group staggered toward the door.
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Nieuw thread?
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Aye.
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