Saturday, July 16, 2011

Dear Valued Customer: Part Three

 Dear Professor Glindinberk,

This is another personal missive from Jeremiah Pendleton to you. I have authorized my men to deliver, free of delivery charges, the eight robotics kits and the accompanying steam engines, control boards, and other sundries that you have ordered despite your current state of being in the red, as it were, to our company. I have taken your last payment as a sign of good faith and therefore respond with our faith in you, the individual engineer. I have no doubt that your work will turn out to be fruitful to you and anything we can do to assist, and also assist you in settling accounds with us, is my and my company's pleasure.
I must ask that you please ensure your guard animals and human guards are aware of the delivery peoples' arrival as it was most difficult to get our delivery crews to return after being chased and fired at by “jackbooted goons in gasmasks”. I assure you that the employee responsible for this description was fired promptly for impuning the workforce of a valued customer.

Jeremiah Pendleton, Esq.

Friday, July 15, 2011

Dear Valued Customer: Part Two

Dear Professor Glindinberk,
          As the CEO of AS+S, I was made aware of the extraordinary nature of your first order with us and took it upon myself to tell you personally how much I appreciate your business and look forward to further work with you. This message should arrive to you a day or two before our deliverimen arrive with loaded lorries to deliver your spectacular order to your castle.

          May I take a moment to compliment the very obvious high aims of any man who inhabits a castle with a storied history like Castle Grunwald? I am astounded.

          As a sign of out appreciation I have waived your delivery costs and thus we only require the payment for the ten reflective mirriors, the sextant, the quarter mile of train track, the six giant sized Tesla Coil kits, and the assorted joints, bearings, and other construction equipment.

          You are already a star customer even now and I sincerely hope that when you accomplish whatever grand genius you are working on you will make certain to tell the world who assisted such a visionary.

          Jeremiah Pendleton, Esq.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Gift Post One: The Order of the Holy Mechanism

This one goes out to Jed, whose request for my 100th hit was "Medieval Cyberpunk"

          “Saint Augustine, Brother Marcel?” Jean's voice was soft and yet it still echoed in the bare tone hallways of the Monastery of St Illumine the Engineer. The sound bounced down the corridor, off angled stones and statues and carvings, all lovingly measured to give the most distance to even the softest word to the “Reference Desk” at the top of the stairs that lead directly to the Reference Niches. While he waited for his voice to carry and be returned, he spun the wheels next to him. “St”, “A”, “U”, “G” they read.

          “Oi, Brother. Anything relating to Just War.” In the background he could hear the voices of the knights, a pair of young knight errant wanting to ensure that their souls would be safe if they followed their desire for conquest. “Also, Saint Bernadine’s writings relating to the Templar if you please. They are donating quite a sum, we can go to the extra effort I thing.”

 Jean nodded as he pulled on the gloves, the chains and sticks that lead into the mechanism around him giving only faint resistance. As he pulled the helmet on he realized, as he did almost every time, that Marcel couldn't actually see his head.

           God above. Every time. “Of course, Brother. Please tell them to be patient, switching collections will take some time.” The metal helmet fit snugly over his head, the rubber rings tight to his eyes. Moving his foot out to kick the Enlightenment Pedal, he could feel the gears and pulleys and chains, a system beyond his comprehension, slide into place to grant him access to what he sought. Another would perhaps wonder what was going on, or would have curiosity as to how it all worked but Brother Jean was not a man to question like that. He took this as he did all acts of God, something to simply accept. His was not to understand the how of God's miracles, merely the why. St Illumine had been given the guidance for this from above, he had done God's will, and that was that. His was not to intemperate, merely to use to further His will.

          Light poured into the previously dark goggles and Jean blinked to clear the spots as the mirrors reflected the area around the Cherub to him. Tilting his head slowly down to see the metal framework of the Cherub's lower body, he did the standard checks. Moving his hands, his feet, the chains pulled and slid through unknowable distances in the edifice, and after a few seconds the hands and feet of the Cherub moved to match. A little slow, a Brother Engineer would need to look at that, but that was for another time. Looking around slowly to get his bearings, he quickly found his way, “walking” the Cherub like a great, far away puppet, a Punch and Judy doll writ large, through the sealed Libraries. This kept the knowledge in a central place, and allowed faster referencing, limiting the fingers touching the books.

          Finally coming to the row of codices that bore the words of St Augustine, Jean leaned forward in his chair, looking, looking.... there. The Cherub followed his reach and took the book in soft cloth-tipped fingers, placing it within the chest of itself. He always hated that, seeing the movements match his he somehow always expected to feel the book in his own heard, inside his chest. There was a hissing noise down the hall as the pressure system the Saint had long ago designed began its holy work, the capsule in the Cherub's chest hurtling through the tubes to end up, he knew, at the Reference desk. The muttered curses and amazed praises that reached his ears made him smile... let the Knights know of God's work and know that their bloody mindedness is nothing compared to Him. Disengaging the pedal, he spun the wheels again. Now for the rule of Saint Bernard.

Dear Valued Customer: Part One

What begins here is something I've wanted to write for some time. The idea has run around my brain for years but its finally, FINALLY seeing the light of day.  Given the nature of the story I'm going to post it, one letter at a time, once every day until its complete. I hope you guys enjoy this, its my way of entertaining while working on things to submit. Specifically one pulp lovecraftian horror story, and a horror sci-fi story that needs serious work.


Dear Valued Customer,
          Here at Altitude Science and Supply we strive to give only the best service and supplies to the small but growing engineering hobbyist community. As suppliers of hard to find parts and materials to such an enthusiastic niche market, we try to let every one of our new customers know just how much they mean to us. To that end, please find enclosed one AS&S catalog, as well as a soldering iron, screwdriver set, and goggles. We give these to all our new and already valued customers to show just how much we value and encourage further work and innovation by our legion of customers. We look forward to your business over the foreseeable future.

Altitude Science and Supply

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Apologies and a tiny touch of random fiction.

I owe people their requests as rewards for me hitting 200 views and I promise to get to them.  With Drs and school and Morrow Project its fallen behind.

Plus Dead Space. Lots and lots of Dead Space. Will be posting again soon.

They're here, behind the steel.  I hear them now, heard them from day one, heard them even on the trip up. Heard the skittering, the claws on metal, hissing voices speaking to each other and to me as if I could even understand, as if I wanted to.

I don't want to, didn't want to, now I do, and He's here now, It, He, She... don't know.

Yay for derivative crap! But its crap written, even if it was written at 1230 because I couldn't sleep. Its still something. So bite me.

EDIT: Rewriting this. I have a good start, a decent idea, but damn if this opening isn't a load of steaming crap.

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Tamar and Raamiel

A mage, arrogant punk archmage kid, and his familiar/girlfriend.


“Why was there a post-it note saying we're banned from Reggie's on my chest when I woke up?”

“Because we're banned from Reggies, love. Duh.”
“Me? Banned from somewhere? Lies. Give me the phone, I want to buy it and have them all like. Fired. Or killed. Or sold to African slavers.”
“Honey they don't do that anymore and you deserved it.”

“Filth and lies compounded. Defend you words, whore, and bring me juice. I have a hangover. And by juice, I mean whiskey and lots of it.”

“You went biblical with the bartender.”
“I fucked her? On the bar? Shit, not again.”

“No. My love, around two in the morning you were drunk. So drunk that when the bartender cut you off you leapt up on the bar, tossed your jacket into the crowd, and called the bartender a “Cum-swallowing, ribstealing whore of Babylon. You then declared if she did not serve you another Manhattan you would summon a plague of locusts down upon the bar and its denizens like 'The God of old'. Then you fell over and passed out.”

“Well? Did I?”

“No. But the drinks all turned to blood after you passed out.”

“Shit. I was drunk. Good night, then?”

“Good night, though I think... can we drink at a mage bar next time? They take you more seriously there.”

Twitter Delicious Facebook Digg Stumbleupon Favorites More