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2020.09.24 11:18 7secretcrows Live voyeur video

I deleted my post asking if Eugenia's mom was her birth mom, because WHOA, was that taken so far from what I was thinking when I posed the question! First, I'll say that I had not seen the entire "Draw My Life" video (only clips from links in this sub), and as such, I absolutely wasn't accusing her of lying about her birth. I genuinely wondered, based on my own personal observations, if Debra was her birth mother, because I didn't know. I doubt I'm the only person who is interested in Eugenia, but also hasn't watched every single minute of every single one of her videos.
Second, I neither stated nor implied that being (THEORETICALLY) adopted was the cause of her illness, as at least one person implied. I agree that trying to say her disorder was caused by adoption is dumb, to put words in their mouth. I was looking for something that might, instead, explain her mother's behavior. It confuses me how the majority of people blame her mother for a lot, if not all, of her problems, but also got really upset that I asked a question in an attempt to understand HER MOTHER'S motivations. WHY would she ignore Eugenia's dangerous state of being? (Eugenia said, I think in Kati's video, that her mom had cried when they talked about her needing help, prior to the 5150, and taken at face value, that was striking, to me.) It would be horrible if we're all vilifying a woman who feels helpless to save her child, who may not have the capacity to fix, from inside the dynamic, what appears obvious on the outside. There's a ton of case studies and literature that discuss why anorexics don't eat, and the main reason is always to gain a sense of control. However, it's harder to find research about the mentality of parents who have children with eating disorders. On top of Eugenia's ED, we see a mother who APPEARS to both enable her daughter's behavior, and to prevent her from getting help, or maturing and living as an independent adult. What might drive someone like that? Having beat the "evil, controlling parent" scenario to death, what else could it be? Possibly having a child she desperately wanted, maybe thought she'd never have, and then not being able to deal with said child not needing her anymore? Not having the emotional tools to confront a child who is a danger to herself? Maybe a fear of driving her child further away by pushing too hard? Popular opinion seems to dictate that we all agree that her mother is toxic, controlling, and an all around bad person. Reality is usually more nuanced. Perhaps she's just a desperate, loving, and dangerously misguided or ignorant mother, however motherhood came to her. Again, I was speculating, theorizing, trying to consider different angles, because people's behavior can be bizarre, fascinating, and unpredictable, especially when it doesn't fit the norm.
Additionally, I'm mortified that anyone thought I was implying that being adopted was somehow a traumatic or negative situation. As with literally everything in life, a few cases work out terribly, but by and large, anyone who recognizes an inability to give a child the life and care needed, and places that child with someone who is better able to provide, has done something respectable, and given a tremendous gift to another family. I would never bash adoption on principle. Again, my speculation was about Eugenia's mother, not Eugenia. I do, however, based on evidence we've seen in videos, question whether Eugenia's mother has attachment issues, and what might have caused them. That includes consideration of how she became a parent.
There were also comments vaguely condemning any speculative talk, and explicitly proclaiming how they only want her to get better. Look, if you're interested in eating disorders from a psychological standpoint, this is an autobiography of the sufferer in real time, and an opportunity to possibly better understand. If you're disturbed by watching someone starve herself to death in front of anyone willing to type her name into YouTube, it's still too compelling to just look away, and to some extent, you care. Every single one of us in this sub, willing to admit it or not, is guilty of voyeurism, and Eugenia goes out of her way to enable us. The one redeeming value might be that we can use what we see and discuss to help someone else, or help ourselves.
For the record, I hope that Eugenia has a moment of clarity, and turns it around to help herself. I genuinely want her to live a happy, healthy, long life. Eugenia, specifically, because she is in full view, but also everyone quietly suffering eating disorders in anonymity, unknown and out of the public spectacle of social media. Not one single person deserves to have their own mind turn against their body in such a counter-instinctual way. Not one person deserves for food to be their enemy. Eugenia doesn't have a monopoly on disorders or compassion, she just has visibility. It doesn't make anyone else less than, or mean we don't care about their struggles. Each one of them matters, and if nothing else, I hope Eugenia's case helps other people be seen.
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2020.09.10 22:06 aj_remington Video live voyeur

I've been thinking about this over the past couple of days and you may find it lines up with some of your experience (or not).
When you think about "sex" at its fundamental core, what is it? Sex is an act by which two individuals of a species attempt to generate another one of that species. Sex is a generative act by default. And because sex is such a generative act, we've assigned this status to it. As the sacred cow of existence.
However, humans being what they are and who they are, have taken this notion of sex and created a whole structure of thought surrounding it. This stretches back thousands of years to traditions like tantra in its luxuriating in the notion of sex or the Abrahamic religions inherent restrictions on sex within certain confines. So anything relating to sex must be inherently bad or good, according to who you talk to and what background they are from. As civilization evolved, "sex" became "sexuality", or the psychological discussion of sex.
However, in the past 60-70 years, advancements in contraceptive technology have allowed sex to be divorced from its ability to create more humans into something that is solely done for pleasure. This is an entirely new creation in human history because now, we use sex as a metric for how much we enjoy life. And don't take my word for it. If I Google "how to have more sex", I come up with 3.9 billion searches and if I Google "how to have control over sex" I come up with 2.8 billion. So obviously, our culture prioritizes pleasure over control. There is Cosmo magazine with "5 ways to make him treat you as a goddess in bed" or "7 ways how to make him crazy for you". Then there is pickup/game material on the men's side. Focusing on sleeping with more women, getting hotties into bed, etc. All of this bottomless, voracious appetite for more. Then you look at the concept of pornography. All of porn is warped sexuality. First of all, you are looking at other people having sex (voyeurism) and you are looking at it through a lens. All the genres of pornography are perverted variations on sex and sexuality. It is sexuality through a massively distorted human ego.
As retainers, as men on a semen retention journey, it is ever apparent to us that sexual discipline is important to live a flourishing life. In fact, lack of control in this area is responsible for a large portion of human misery. However, because we live in a society where sexual control is marginalized or even laughed at, it makes it much more difficult to not allow "sexuality" to overtake the mind. Instead of using sexual discipline as a foundation to achieve more grand things in life, we focus on the lures of pleasure because we have been socialized to do so. Think about it. When was the last time that anyone told you that sex is primarily for having children? For some of us - never.
Everywhere you turn, you see sexualized media, things that speak to the psychological nature of sex. It promises you fun, it promises you enjoyment, it promises you relief from being a human. But when you dig into these promises, when you ask "what is sex doing for me", you'll see that sexual pleasure is nothing but a mirage in the desert. People using sex to feel better about themselves, to feel good, to fix issues, but psychological perversion does not fix issues. It exacerbates them. You shouldn't be upset because you can't bust a nut. You shouldn't feel so affected when a girl doesn't want to have sex with you. You shouldn't fixate on twerking videos and porn. You only do this because you create sexuality within your mind.
So think about that guys. I'm not saying to never seek sexual enjoyment, however, it should be low on the laundry list of priorities and a byproduct of living a productive life.
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2020.08.26 22:23 RTKGuy Live voyeur video

Riding in the Oasis reminded me of a time back in my childhood when my older brother owned a van and I would ride in the very back of it, parked on a cushioned bench seat without the slightest safety feature available. Sure, it was fun to be so free and wild until you realized you’d be sailing through the car at sixty miles per hour if there was ever a serious accident. At least Lazlo’s desk chair was bolted down and had a seat belt; it was better than nothing, but not by much.
Right out the gate, Lazlo nearly got us hung up on a fallen tree just turning us around, and I clenched my teeth every time she got close to the edge of the road, a steep slope awaiting a careless misjudgment. To ease my mind, I got familiar with the surveillance system. Lazlo had password-protected anything I wasn’t supposed to tamper with, but that left me plenty of archived footage to look through. I found the video footage timestamped to the arrival of our new predator. Lazlo had predicted that the video would be scrambled or too static-filled to be useful. She called it, all right. She believed the beast had to be putting out some kind of radiation in an electromagnetic spectrum, interfering with radio signals and video equipment. The last clear image captured was Lazlo outside Oasis fitting a drone with a battery. Then nothing but distortion for several minutes until the picture cleared up to show an empty perimeter and a blood trail. I was disappointed that I couldn’t see the creature for myself, but at least we’d have a clue to its presence – video static.
We traveled down the gravelly road in silence for the first forty minutes of the trip, all of us contemplating the nature of our new adversary or trying not to think about Abbott. I appreciated the way Lazlo and Theo could push away their emotions and stay focused. I found it hard to do, even though I had barely known Abbott. It was easier to stare at Voyeur Four’s surveillance footage and slip into my role as a warning bell ringer. But I found the silence of the group growing oppressive. Dark thoughts began to slip into my mind, doubts about our chances of getting back, or what kind of reception we would find back in Crusoe. And naturally, I still had a lot of questions to ask.
“Have there ever been this many MLs in one area before?” I asked.
“Which one of us are you asking?” Lazlo replied.
“I didn’t have a preference,” I said.
“Then you might as well talk to me.” Lazlo’s voice carried much fatigue. It occurred to me that I hadn’t seen any of them sleep since they’d rescued me. How long had they gone without it?
“Theo tends to clam up when he’s on the job,” she explained. “As to your question, the largest cluster I know of was the Kentucky pack of 1976. That one clocked in at ninety-seven confirmed.”
Ninety-seven? The group around Crusoe was three times that number. We really were in unprecedented territory, then.
“Keep in mind, we’ve only known of the MLs since 1958,” she continued. “They may have been out in the wilds a lot longer than that, and perhaps living in other countries.”
I hadn’t even considered the idea that MLs were a global problem, and I asked her whether that was actually a thing. Lazlo snickered. “They’re like rats and starlings – they find ways of getting around. There’s an unconfirmed account of MLs running around the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone in Ukraine. Bet they love it there… not too many people to munch on, though. The Russian Wranglers have gotten pretty tightlipped…”
“Don’t drone on and on with the radio,” cautioned Theo. “We need to stay focused.”
“Aye aye, Skipper,” she joked in a nautical voice. I felt an abrupt swerve just then, as if Lazlo was reminding Theo he didn’t have all the power.
“I’m not trying to beat a dead horse here,” I said, “but could there be a connection between the size of the group and all the behaviors we’re seeing?”
“As Abbott used to say, that’s the mystery,” Lazlo answered. I could hear a tinge of sadness as she mentioned him. “Correlation versus causation. Do we have a bigger group because these MLs are smarter than average, or are they acting differently because they’ve reached a certain numerical advantage and are getting more coordinated? And what does any of it have to do with them performing a ritual and creating a brand-new type of monster? I got nothin’, Hector, and that scares me more than anything else.”
Lazlo silenced after that, and I was about to let it go since my questions were causing more discomfort than I intended. But it was Theo who picked up the thread by uttering two oddball words.
“Beachhead species,” he said.
“What what?” replied Lazlo.
“Abbott’s idea. I asked him one time where he thought the MLs came from. He told me that he had a working hypothesis that suggested the MLs were a beachhead species. He admitted that it was a little out there, but after today… Well, he may not have been so out there.”
“Explain,” insisted Lazlo.
Theo cleared his throat and began to do just that. “Imagine you’re a species that figured out how to manipulate genetic codes and the building blocks of life, but you’re not so good with computers and robotics and rocket science. You still want to do space travel, though. Either you want to expand your species, or your planet is about to get destroyed through some global or cosmic event. However, space travel takes too long and eats up too many resources for you to send your own species through space, and there’s no warp drive in the cards. Instead, you use what you got – you create some kind of simpler life form that could survive centuries or millennia out in space, put them in a bunch of space-going containers, and launch them out towards inhabitable planets around distant stars. Places where life like yours could take root.
“Abbott believed that the MLs target humans by design, because we’re the most advanced species on the planet. They’re designed to do that on any world they arrive on. They don’t just eat us, they process us, perhaps even analyze our DNA. Then they make more of themselves. Once certain conditions are met, like reaching a population goal, they switch gears. They would have created a beachhead on the new world, and at that point they would begin to prepare it for their true masters. Abbott didn’t know what that would look like, but he did end his explanation by suggesting that if the MLs were advanced bio-factories capable of cloning themselves, they might be able to do more.”
I had no idea how to respond to all that, other than just not respond. Lazlo paused before she added her two cents, and she sounded more rattled than before.
“Abbott didn’t seem all that surprised by the thing that attacked us. Maybe… maybe he believed it was the next step in their development. Dear God, what if the rest of them do the same thing?”
“It’s just Abbott’s wild-ass idea, Laz,” Theo cautioned. “Remember his rule? Wild-ass ideas stay in the wild unless the data proves otherwise.”
“I like that rule,” I remarked. “We should definitely stick to…”
I trailed off abruptly as the video monitor showing Voyeur Four’s camera feed emitted a series of bleeps that I interpreted as alerts. I focused on it, apprehension coiling around my heart. Voyeur Four wasn’t just following the Oasis; its camera was also positioned to see the road ahead of us, to give us some warning of potentials obstacles. The gravel road ahead predictably wound its way through dense trees and steep hills, though it would soon link up with a paved section that would finally lead us to a highway. Lazlo would have to go slower for the next few miles to keep us safe. That wasn’t what triggered the system. That honor went to the motion blips coming into frame as we neared that section, the ones dotting the hills and trees along the road. The ones shaped like our old unwelcome friends.
I didn’t bother to count them. I didn’t have to. Third Eye did it for me. Eighty-four confirmed motion blips. Eighty-four of them, and most of them were ahead of us, the rest closing in.
Somehow I managed to get this blood-chilling information imparted to the others. Lazlo cursed the MLs’ non-existent mothers. Theo grunted and then ordered me to grab the loaded shotgun he’d left by my chair. He had given me an extremely brief rundown on how to use the shotgun – pump, point, shoot, repeat. I had eight shells. Also watch for recoil. Nowhere near adequate training, but at least I’d be less likely to miss with this weapon.
“You two call them as you see them,” Theo instructed. “And Lazlo, no matter what, you keep driving. You don’t stop for anything. Understand?”
“Yeah,” she replied, not sounding convinced. I didn’t blame her. I knew she was the most confined of us, stuck in the cab with only a pistol and a few flash balls for defense while trying to keep the Oasis from crashing. If Theo and I didn’t keep her safe, none of us would be making it out of the woods.
We closed in on the cluster of blips, and I glanced at the steel door, held in place by nylon straps that looked too fragile for my comfort. I told myself that we were moving too fast for the MLs to latch on and that Theo could deal with any who tried. As long as we kept moving and kept on the road, we’d be safe.
I didn’t believe it for a second, and I gripped my shotgun tightly as the Oasis began rounding the curves of the road.
“Two on our right,” called out Lazlo, her voice focusing me back to the monitor. Sure enough, I spotted two humanoid blips closing in from the right side of the road. A shot rang out and one of the blips went sprawling. The other one sprinted away from the road in response. I didn’t hear any more gunfire, so I figured Theo was only interested in getting us to safety, not scoring kills.
I saw a group of three lingering on the left side of the road. “Three on the left,” I called out, hoping that was the proper way to report sightings. I felt the vehicle swerve as Lazlo tried to give us distance from the group, and another gunshot sent the three MLs scurrying for cover.
As we rounded a bend, I almost swore at the sight before me. We were heading into a serious cluster of the bastards, at least a dozen, and I couldn’t tell if they were on the ground, in the trees, or both. “Monkeys in the trees!” Lazlo yelled. Theo responded with several rapid shots, and I could hear something thump onto the roof, followed by two more thumps as the blips on the monitor converged on our vehicle. Another rapid burst of fire and a lot of frantic movement from the ceiling told me Theo had his hands full removing intruders.
Then I spotted another group rushing the road, coming at us from the hillside to our left. I tried to get out a warning, but the cacophony occurring on the roof drowned out my words. I saw the blips take flight as they hurled themselves at the vehicle, and I could hear the bangs as they made contact. I couldn’t tell if they were hanging on or if they had fallen away until Lazlo confirmed the worst.
“Shit! We got clingers. Three of them, on the left side! One’s at my window!”
Theo didn’t reply unless you counted the bullets flying above us. The bastards knew what to target, and they were either distracting Theo or attempting to overwhelm him. I was still free, though, and the steel door opened out to the left side.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and moved to the door, keeping my thoughts fixed on loosening the straps and not on how exposed I was about to get and how this door wasn’t getting closed again once I did this. I was in pure reaction mode. The team needed me, and I wasn’t about to lose anyone else if I could stop it.
I worked loose the first strap very quickly, then had the second one get snagged and fight me briefly before I cleared it. The door didn’t need much prompting to swing outward, smashing loudly against the side of the vehicle and then hanging at an odd angle. A parade of foliage and duff-covered hillside sped on by in the distance. I grabbed up my shotgun, predicting that an ML would come to exploit this opening. For once, my fears proved completely accurate.
It popped its head into view from the right side of the door, its jet-black eyes staring at me, its mouth agape with wicked teeth. It seemed flummoxed by its luck, and it hesitated. Usually when I found myself face to face with these things, I felt like a chicken dinner awaiting its fate. This time around, I was just so tired of these damn things.
My shotgun roared, and I was surprised by the recoil and thunderous noise of the weapon. But my aim was true, and the horrid black eyes disintegrated before the blast, the body losing its grip and falling off onto the road below.
My first kill. Was I an official Wrangler now? I made a note to ask Lazlo about that when I…
Shit, Lazlo. I rushed to the opening and poked my head out; a move I now know to be far too reckless. Looking towards the cab, I could see two more MLs clinging to the driver’s side door. One had a rock in its claws, pounding away at the reinforced window with it. Finding a handhold to brace myself with, I raised the shotgun at the two monsters one-handed… and clicked on an empty chamber.
Damn it, forget to pump the gun.
The MLs noticed me. The good news was that they abandoned their efforts against Lazlo. The bad news was their efforts were now on me. Like a pair of swinging chimps they maneuvered toward me, screaming with desire. Suddenly I didn’t feel so apathetic about them, pumping the shotgun as I backed away from the opening.
These two came through the doorway simultaneously, one going low, one leaping to the side. A smart move – I couldn’t target them both. The low one came at me fast, but my shotgun proved faster, and its midsection turned into a cloud of dust. I pumped the shotgun immediately and tried to bring it up in time, but the second one was already leaping at me, sounding out a wailing war cry. It crashed into me, knocking me against the computer desk, forcing me to drop my shotgun as I grappled with it. Pain laced up and down my back from the impact, my arms grabbing its thin arms as it tried to rake me with its claws, its lethal mouth snapping away inches from my nose. I had expected it to be stronger, but I found I could keep it at bay at that moment. It writhed and twisted in my grip, but it got nowhere… until it remembered its feet.
It plunged all six of its toe-claws into my thighs, and it felt like nails punching into my skin. Pain drove away my fear, and I tapped into my well of anger once more. Only one move I could think of – I head butted the thing right in its forehead. I was rather surprised by my own aggressiveness, and so was the ML. Stunned, it couldn’t stop me as I pushed it off, grabbed up the shotgun, and turned its face into a vacant hole.
I stood there, panting, my head growing sore, my back aching, and my thighs bleeding from six puncture wounds. At least I remembered to pump the gun again as I sat down at the computer desk, training it at the opening in expectation of more company. I could then hear a voice in my head trying to get my attention, and it took me a second to remember it was the radio.
“Hector? Respond, damn it!” Lazlo sounded desperate. How long had I been unintentionally ignoring her?
“I’m… I’m here, Lazlo,” I finally said.
“You son of a bitch,” she said, relief in her voice. “You weren’t supposed to come to my rescue.”
“I won’t make it a habit,” I commented, watching the air grow thicker as the MLs corpse began to dissolve. I couldn’t hear any more gunfire above me, so I glanced at the Third Eye video. It seemed clear ahead of us, the only lingering blips falling behind the vehicle.
“Theo, you okay?” I asked.
I heard a grunt and a colorful metaphor. “A little banged up, but the roof is clear,” he reported.
I then spotted a group of blips on a downward slope to our left. The road was bending away from them, so they didn’t appear capable of intercepting us. “Well, keep an eye to our left. There’s…”
The picture on the monitor suddenly dissolved into an avalanche of wavy distortion. At the same time, I heard a light static noise drone through my head. My heart revved up again – our new adversary had entered the fray.
“Guys, the thing’s back,” I said to the air. “Guys?” No use. The radio was scrambled. But I could get to Theo through the ladder. At least I could warn him. I ached all over as I got up and moved to the rungs. Looking up, I could see his boots as he moved about the turret, no doubt searching for more hostiles. It was poorly lit inside the turret and I couldn’t see much else.
I yelled up to him, and at first I didn’t think he could hear me. Then he repositioned and looked down at me with a questioning glare. “Why aren’t you using the radio?” he scolded.
He must not have cottoned onto the static. “Theo, it’s…”
Suddenly there was a massive squeal as the turret’s interior grew much brighter. Theo reacted instantly, trying to twist and bring his gun to bear against the thing attacking the turret, but the thing got a hold of him and yanked him clear. I was abruptly staring at the sky, with no sign of Theo or his attacker.
As if I had a secret death wish, I slung my shotgun and found the strength to climb the rungs into the turret. I was in wild pursuit, with no thought outside of somehow saving Theo if I could. I passed through the wreckage of the turret, which now resembled a peeled orange. I squeezed through the serrated opening in the steel, the jagged metal ripping at my clothes as I climbed onto the roof.
It was still here. So was Theo. It was much like how Lazlo had described it – a pile of humanoid dirt with legs and multiple arms that emerged and receded from its central mass. Two of those limbs gripped Theo, one at his throat and one holding his right arm out wide. Theo gritted his teeth and pounded against its grip with his free hand, but it was like pounding a cement wall. They stood on the edge of the roof, the thing deciding whether to kill Theo here or take him away for future consumption. It was clearly unconcerned by my arrival.
I noticed Theo’s rifle was missing, probably over the side and lost. Just me and my gun, but I knew I couldn’t shoot without hitting Theo. Hell, if Lazlo was right, I wasn’t sure the shotgun would be enough. I felt equally stupid and helpless, coming to Theo’s aid just in time to watch him die. What the hell had I hoped to accomplish?
But then an epiphany hit me, or perhaps just a desperate thought. This thing, whatever it was, was a product of the Meat Locusts. It was born of their DNA and their bodies. Surely it still had some similarities with them. Surely it still shared a weakness.
I was still wearing the flash ball belt, and in one smooth motion I pulled a ball off, pushed its trigger button, and held it up in my right hand. I looked away and prayed that I was right.
The ball went off with a brilliant flash, but my eyes avoided the lion’s share of the light. When it cleared, I found a very different scene before me, as if the flash ball had shifted reality. The dirt-thing was gone, replaced by a different brand of monster. This thing was thin and lanky, covered in the same gray reptilian skin as its brethren, four long arms jutting from its skeletal torso. Two arms were covering its face, the other two lashing out wildly, suggesting it was either in pain or disoriented. It had released Theo from its grip, and he was using the opportunity to crawl away from it along the narrow roof, nursing his right arm as if it was injured.
It stopped flailing about all too quickly, lowering its arms away from its face. Like your typical ML, it had the same basic contours – no hair, no ears, slits for a nose, and a ghastly wide mouth. But its teeth were different, more akin to shark teeth than rows of needles. And its eyes… those eyes were not the black holes used by the Locusts, but almost human, solid black irises swimming in a sea of white jelly. They locked onto me, penetrated me. If there were any lingering doubts that this thing wasn’t the next step up the ML evolutionary chain, sharing a hard stare with it wiped them away.
It seemed to be waiting for me to try something, go for my gun or reach for Theo. Instead, I mentally counted the seconds to the ball’s next flash and closed my eyes as the ball flared once more. I opened my eyes again, preparing to bring up my gun and gun down my blinded enemy, but it only stood there patiently, a slight smile on its face. Panic and confusion battled for supremacy within me as I looked straight into its unholy orbs. There was a blue sheen that hadn’t been there before. Some kind of built-in eye protection. The damnable thing had adapted. I must have caught it off-guard and ruined its focus, making it drop its masking power. But it was ready for me now.
Desperation guided my decisions now, as I threw the useless orb at the thing and then tried to aim my shotgun. It came right at me, the flash ball bouncing off its emaciated chest as it stepped over Theo and reached for the shotgun. I got off one shot, but the blast went wild and hit only air. Two gray arms gripped the weapon and sent it flying out of my grip and over the side of the vehicle. I froze up, out of ideas and too terrified to think straight as one arm grabbed my neck while two others restrained my arms. I couldn’t believe that something so thin held so much strength. I was pinned in place, its patronizing smile turning sinister as it pulled me close.
We were passing another hillside and out of my peripheral vision I could see a pack of MLs surging toward the road, screaming in an oddly harmonious tone that struck me as a cheer or a show of solidarity, of triumph. They were still too far away to catch us, but they didn’t need to, and they knew it. They were watching their leader punish the ones who had hurt their brethren. They were here to watch me die.
The thing finally opened its mouth, expanding it unnaturally wide, and I could see past its rows of carnivorous teeth, into the back of its throat where a round orifice rimmed with a set of fanged teeth awaited my face. I’m pretty sure I was screaming at that point. All I saw was my worst nightmare preparing to envelop me.
A burst of gunfire broke me out of my paralysis, and caused the creature to close its mouth and recoil away. Baffled, I chanced a look downward and saw Theo holding a pistol in his left hand, yelling in pain and anger as emptied his weapon into the creature’s right knee. The joint held together even as bullet after bullet smashed into it, but the knee quickly grew dented and damaged. Something like pain finally penetrated the creature’s demeanor, and it backed off to cover its wounded leg with two of its arms.
I remembered my own pistol, and in a proud moment of actual competence I pulled it from its holster, flicked off the safety, and opened fire at the creature’s face. I definitely missed more than I hit, but a couple of rounds found its cheeks and caused it to recoil even further, disorienting it. Then the vehicle did a sudden turn as we rounded a steep bend, causing me to topple onto Theo and the creature to topple off the roof.
Theo and I took a long moment to get disentangled from each other, exchanging incredulous looks as we sat up and stared at the road behind us. The creature was already standing up as the rest of the MLs sprinted onto the road and surrounded it. Every one of them stopped in their tracks, giving up pursuit and watching us recede into the forest. Perhaps they were instinctively protecting their leader, or perhaps their master decided it wasn’t worth the effort any longer.
I shared one final stare with the four-armed monstrosity as we cleared another bend and the pack vanished from sight. Despite our successful escape, I felt no cheer. The romantics in life like to believe one can see into the soul of another through their eyes. I don’t know about that – I certainly couldn’t detect souls that way. But I know hate when I see it. I knew that thing hated me, and that it wasn’t ever going to forget my defiance.
I don’t know how far it will carry its hate, but I doubt I’ll ever sleep soundly again.
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2020.08.26 22:17 RTKGuy Live voyeur video

If I did dream the rest of that night, I don’t remember it. I was happy for that. I was less happy for how I woke up, though. A trio of voices echoed off the walls, their tones raising my anxiety level. My instincts remained alert, cultivated from days of living in fear of sudden death. I sat up and listened to the team arguing with one another as they stood next to Lazlo’s monitors.
“I’m telling you, Third Eye is working just fine,” said Lazlo defensively. “I inspected Voyeur Two just yesterday.”
“Then how the hell did it miss them?” Theo spoke this time, his voice laced with accusation.
“How should I know?” she shot back. “I’m the tech, not the Locust Whisperer.”
“This is not helpful, you two,” said Abbott, attempting to mediate the situation with a calm voice. “The why and how will have to come later. Theo, get on the turret. Lazlo, go prep Voyeur One for interception. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the situation.”
Abbott turned my way as Theo stormed by me, the big man not even looking my way as he found a set of rungs to climb and proceeded into a narrow hole in the ceiling. Lazlo bolted from her chair and rushed outside, barely remembering to seal the door behind her. Abbott looked at me with a face that suggested that his reassurances about my safety had been premature.
“You might as well come and look, Hector,” he said quietly.
I got up and did so. Abbott pointed to the top-center monitor, the one showing a sketch-like video of the woods. I was vaguely familiar with thermal imaging, where heat sources showed up as white or greenish pictures, but this showed the outlines of images, such as the tops of swaying trees or rustling grass or barely-visible scurrying things on the ground. It took me a moment to clue in – this was the motion detection camera in action. Once I adapted to its format, I could make out a forest through the incomplete images.
Far easier to make out were the humanoid figures moving toward the bottom of the screen, the camera shifting along as they traversed the forest. I hadn’t laid eyes on the MLs since going into the basement, but they were seared into my brain so deeply that I’d recognize them from any distance away. They lopped in a massive group, their indistinct outlines masking their hideous intentions but not the energy of their movements, and my mind fell back to my terrified flight for survival. I felt hunted and helpless again, even though I knew I was in the company of experts, and I had to breathe carefully to keep the panic within me from rising.
“I don’t know how much you heard, but we didn’t see the pack coming,” explained Abbott, his voice remarkably calm considering the threat on the screen. “Normally Third Eye can see through their masking abilities, but somehow these ones got past the drone camera and… they’re about ten minutes away and heading right for us.”
I had lots of questions right then, but mostly I was attempting to look brave when what I wanted to do was find that closet Abbott had called the brig and willingly step into it. “Are they the same ones you’ve been tracking?”
Abbott nodded. “MLs may seem virtually identical, but they do have a few physical variations that can be tracked. The system can tell them apart, even if we can’t. It’s the same pack – except less of them.”
I gave a questioning look, and he elaborated. “They went into the copse with forty-four MLs. They came out with thirty-four. I’m never seen a pack lose members to anything other than combat. Those ten might still be in there, or they might have shaken us. Regardless, we have to kill the pack now. They’re in full hunt mode.”
“Can… can I stay here and watch?” I asked. My instincts still wanted me to hide away, but I wasn’t about to do it. What I really wanted was some more flash balls, but I’d settle for knowing what was going on.
Abbott nodded to me as he took the desk chair and began working with the keyboard, switching monitor displays to brand new programs. “Just don’t ask me questions right now. Theo, you in position?”
I couldn’t hear the response through Abbott’s earpiece, but I did hear Theo’s muffled voice echo down to us from the hole in the roof. Abbott then asked Lazlo the same question and seemed satisfied by her response. He brought up a new screen displaying data concerning Voyeur One. “Lazlo, once Voyeur One is up, get back here immediately. I need five minutes for Shock and Awe to come online.”
Hmm, Shock and Awe. I had a couple of ideas about what that meant come to mind, but I was going to obey the don’t-ask-questions rule for now. Then, almost as an afterthought, Abbott reached into a desk drawer and handed me an item shaped like a white teardrop about the size of a human tooth. I stared at it helplessly until Abbot realized my ignorance. “Stick it in your ear pointy-end first, then push the button on the top. It’s our radio. Normally I wouldn’t let you eavesdrop, but you’re in harm’s way and you might need the information.”
I’ve never been a fan of those little mini-radio devices. I also have a problem with sticking things in my ear. At the very least, it’s distracting. But I took the device and inserted it as instructed, wincing at the feel but otherwise not complaining. I could hear Lazlo’s voice echoing in my ear canal, her tone implying a measure of excitement or perhaps even fear.
“Voyeur One is ready, coming back in,” she said. A second later, I hear the piercing whine of a drone engine revving up. A minute later, she hurriedly came through the side door and latched it tight. Abbott let her have her desk back, standing behind her as she worked her tech magic. The smile on her face answered my earlier pondering – she was obviously getting a kick out of this moment.
One of the monitors switched to a static camera position, most likely from a camera attached to the Oasis itself. This one was night-vision, showing a green-tinged hillside that I wagered was the one I had trekked down hours ago. A number of blurry humanoid shapes were bounding down it, and my blood cooled a little more at the sight of each approaching creature.
“Do I have clearance?” asked Theo on the radio. The cold state of his voice gave me flashbacks to Madison and her matter-of-fact tone. She had kicked all kinds of ML ass before we had parted. I hoped Theo could do the same.
“Let Voyeur One do its thing, then open fire,” ordered Abbott.
“I don’t think this is the time for a field test,” Theo replied, now sounding a tad annoyed.
“That’s why we call them field tests, Theo,” said Abbott. “We can’t always pick the moment. Sometimes it picks us.”
The monitor showing Voyeur Two’s camera stopped tracking the main cluster of MLs and instead locked onto a flying object with four circular fan engines. I assumed that was Voyeur One. We watched as the drone made a dangerous dive toward the heart of the cluster, then veered up a second before plowing into the ground. An object fell from it, landing just ahead of the pack. They didn’t seem to notice or care about the drone or the object it had dropped, and they ran onward.
Then the picture blurred as a massive burst of heat, debris, and smoke filled the screen. The picture retracted as Voyeur Two repositioned to show a wider view of the carnage, and while I couldn’t personally determine how effective the explosive had been on the MLs, there was definitely a lot less movement than before. Smoke obscured much of the blast sight, and that made me nervous.
Lazlo laughed and let out a short whoop of victory. “Look at that,” she said. “We’ve just witnessed the future of ML warfare.”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” said Abbott, clearly not as sold as she was. “Theo, what do you see?”
A shot rang out from above, followed by two more in quick succession. Mercifully it wasn’t relayed through our earpieces or else I suspect the noise would have blown out my eardrum. When Theo finally spoke, I noted the edge in his voice this time. “I just picked off two of them. They’re still coming our way. You did some damage, Lazlo, but not as much as you think.”
He was right about that. When the smoke cleared enough to give us a better idea of the results, we could see a number of still forms on the ground, some in pieces. Others were moving, a few missing body parts, a few limping, but the pack was still advancing.
Lazlo’s smiled faded as she counted the casualties. “Damn it. I think we only got eight of them, and they’re not retreating. What the hell is motivating these guys?”
More shots sounded out, and we watched as a few more MLs bit the dust as they came on. They were spreading themselves out now, dodging behind trees and brush wherever available. Theo must have had sniper training because even with their speed and the cover of night to aid them he still made them pay for every inch of their advance. But it took less than a minute for the remaining MLs to reach the edge of our camp. Voyeur Two showed an overhead view of the Oasis as a dozen figures tightly encircled us.
“Theo, button up,” Abbott instructed. The shooting ceased and I heard metallic clanging, as if a door or hatch was being closed and latched. Theo came down the rungs shortly after, carrying a sniper rifle and looking like he’d been called away from his favorite pastime.
“Lazlo, power down the lights and get ready to use Shock and Awe,” said Abbott. He then looked directly at me. “You’re safe where you are, Hector, but I advise you not to touch the walls of the vehicle, just in case.”
I looked at him with confusion. “Is this vehicle electrified?”
“It’s about to be,” said Lazlo.
“I thought MLs were fireproof,” I observed.
“Electricity doesn’t burn them, but it still wrecks them,” said Theo. He moved to a weapons rack and traded his sniper rifle for an assault rifle. He also handed out two pump-action shotguns, one to Abbott and one to Lazlo. He looked at me as if debating whether to arm me as well, but a quick shake of my head disabused him of the notion. Now was definitely not the time to field test my gun skills.
Lazlo put her shotgun to the side and held her right hand over the Enter button on her keyboard. “We wait for the MLs to climb on us, then hit the juice. Twenty-thousand volts running through them for twenty seconds, and they’re usually in a very bad state afterwards.”
The MLs were quick to oblige, as I soon heard the pitter-patter of terrible feet on the roof of the vehicle. Then the overhead lights flickered off, leaving us with only the computer monitors as reliable light sources, and for a brief moment I was back in the cabin basement, a prisoner awaiting execution. I put a thumb to my mouth and bit my nail to stave off my desire to make noise, to talk away my fear as the footfalls increased in number. I wanted to have faith in my protectors, but true faith is something earned, not given.
Abbott finally gave the order by nodding to Lazlo, and she plunged a finger onto the Enter button. I held my breath, waiting for some kind of light show or sizzling sound, or even the rancid smell of burning wires. Some proof that Shock and Awe was underway. Indeed, I ended up experiencing all three signs, but they came from under the computer desk, from the compartment that Lazlo had emerged from when I first met her. Scattered light lit up the interior, accompanied by brutal fusing sounds. Theo and Lazlo swore as the compartment smoked up with acrid fumes, the unexpected light show dying out a few seconds later. The ceiling lights came back on as Theo went to grab a fire extinguisher hanging on a wall. Abbott stood there calmly and then walked to the weapons rack, opening up an unmarked drawer and rooting around inside. Lazlo kept swearing as she hammered away at her keyboard, and I decided not to ask any obvious questions at that point.
“God damn all of rodent kind to hell,” Lazlo colorfully cursed as she worked. “I knew those bastards were chewing on something. Why can’t they go after the food like normal pests?”
Theo knelt down and brought the extinguisher to bear on the compartment. Abbott finished his search and came over to me. I was amazed by his calmness, as if all this was more a minor inconvenience than a life-and-death struggle. Perhaps that was why he was in charge – the cool head when the crap hit the fan. He handed me a spherical object, and I almost laughed when I recognized it as a flash ball. It was a different model than the ones Madison used. It had a plastic clip attached to it, and I noticed Abbott’s other hand held a bandoleer with several more flash balls hanging off it. The Wrangler version of a grenade belt, apparently.
He managed to get Theo and Lazlo’s attention and then outlined the new plan, such as it was. They were going to do this the old-fashioned way – get up close and personal. Open the door, toss a flash ball, then rush out and blast every ML they could see. I was staying put – the flash ball in my hand was just a precaution. Theo seemed to approve of the plan, while Lazlo appeared sickened by it, remarking that there were reasons why they killed MLs from a distance. But she took up her shotgun and got into position just the same. I understood the reasoning – no help was coming, the Oasis couldn’t move in this state, and the MLs had the patience of a redwood – but the idea of opening that door felt like the kind of stupid move done in horror movies that got protagonists killed.
I could see the nervousness in Abbott’s face as he gave Theo the order to open the door. I had the feeling that this team was used to doing its death-dealing from safer positions. I saw Lazlo bite her lip as Theo threw the door wide. Beyond it, I saw a faint tinge of dawn in the sky above a shadowed world of forested hills. The command vehicle did have a few external lights activated, enough to illuminate the surroundings, and I saw the little nightmares in the flesh once again. Every single time I see them, I still marvel at the unreal degree of similarity between them -the same bald scalps, the same lipless mouths, the same ebony eyes that sucked in the light around them. I counted four within my line of sight, and they shrieked with desire upon seeing a path to their prey. Then they were shrieking a different tune as Theo’s flash ball went off, blinding them with a wave of blue. One little bastard was mere feet away from the door when Theo came out with calm, methodical ease and plugged it in the head. Abbott went next, his shotgun roaring at other targets that I couldn’t see from my vantage point. Lazlo said a quick prayer to the Virgin Mary as she ran out, disappearing from my sight as she covered the backs of her teammates.
The air was congested with screams and gunfire as the MLs came on, flashes of blue and burst of white throwing a strobe light effect over the battle. I glanced at the monitor depicting Voyeur Two’s overhead camera, showing that the MLs on the other side of the vehicle had joined the fray. They didn’t charge the team like the ones that had gone after Madison and me – these ones like to use protection, move from cover to cover. I heard Theo yell out in frustration as his shots missed more than they hit. These MLs appeared to understand their prey better than before. But they were still driven to attack, and one by one they fell to bullets and pellets.
I forced myself to look away from the monitor and back at the door. There was a cold comfort in watching the action from a drone’s perspective. It detached you from reality, even if reality was right in front of you. But a ML wasn’t going to burst through the monitor. If it came for me, it would be through that door.
My timing proved prescient, for a Meat Locust chose that moment to charge up the ramp, aiming right at me with maddening rage creasing its face. I had just enough time to panic-bolt out of my seat before a shotgun blast went off and the ML’s face disappeared in a puff of gray dust, the body collapsing just inside the door. Lazlo was on the ramp behind it, wearing a frantic face and panting from exertion. She looked at me and then pointed at the monitors.
“Tell me if it’s clear, Hector,” she asked. It took me a moment to obey as I still felt a tad freaked from the monster’s suicide-charge, but I finally looked and saw no more MLs in the area. Only their bodies remained.
“We’re clear,” I told her.
“Then grab the first-aid kit on the second rack to your right and get out here,” she ordered hurriedly. “Abbott’s hurt.”
One lesson I was beginning to learn from my continuing experiences in this crisis was that victories never felt like victories. No matter how many times I’ve escaped death, I never quite get clear of it. And someone always pays for my survival. This time around, it was Abbott. Not that I could’ve done much, but I still could’ve done something. The flash ball in my hand wouldn’t have done much more than the one already flashing outside. If I had known how to shoot adequately, I might have been of use. Instead, I was just like the drones the team deploys in the field – just another voyeur.
Abbott was now lying on a lower bunk with a sizeable bandage on his right leg, one that was close to soaked through. The way Theo told the story, two MLs had come in blindly charging Abbott, one going high and one going low. Abbott managed to blast the one aiming for his head. The low one got a nasty swipe at his leg before Theo took it down. The claws must have nicked his femoral artery, as he’d been bleeding badly but not spraying. I had gone out and helped apply pressure to the wound as he groaned in agony, and we got the bleeding under control. But his wound was long and deep. There was no way we could fix it in the field.
I sat next to him to keep an eye on his condition as Theo and Lazlo passionately argued over their course of action. He occasionally liked to smile my way as if to say, “These two, right?” Even in pain and in a precarious situation, he still kept his calm.
“We need to pack up and go now,” Theo demanded. “He needs surgery.”
“No argument from me,” Lazlo shot back, “but we can’t leave without the drone.”
Theo made an exasperated face and shook his head. “You and your tech. It is not worth Abbott dying over it, or anyone else.”
“You know that’s not it,” Lazlo countered. “If we leave here without knowing what’s going on, all this is going to be for nothing.”
I was really tired of having to play catch-up in the conversations, so I raised my hand to get their attention. “Okay, what drone are we talking about here?”
They looked at each other as if debating whether I was entitled to an answer, but it was Abbott who replied, his voice more strained than before. “While you were sleeping, Lazlo sent Voyeur Three into the copse that was hiding our pack. She decided we needed to know what they were doing, and I agreed.”
“How many drones do you guys have?” I asked, more of a rhetorical question than one expecting a response.
“We have four,” Lazlo replied. “Our Third Eye system was designed to have constant surveillance when we’re tracking a pack. So we have three drones programmed for overlapping coverage over a twenty-four hour cycle, and one for backup. I reprogrammed Voyeur Three to go in under manual control. It was transmitting fine for the first two minutes, but then it hit some weird signal interference. Almost five minutes in, the signal was lost. The drones are programmed to land if they break contact, and its internal hard drive can save up to twenty minutes of footage, so…”
“So it might have recorded something important,” interrupted Theo, “or it might be a wild goose chase. It’s not a reason to risk our lives any further.”
“I… disagree, Theo,” said Abbott. “We’re missing ten MLs, and they were doing something in that copse that they don’t want us to see. The pack’s attack on us wasn’t typical ML behavior. It was deliberate and coordinated and nigh-suicidal, as if they saw us as a serious threat and were willing to die coming at us than let us interfere with what they’re doing up here. We need to know what that is, and our best chance of knowing why is Voyeur Three.”
Theo sighed in frustration, then looked straight at Abbott and said, “By we, you mean me of course.”
“If you wouldn’t mind,” Abbott replied.
Theo laughed. “You sweet talker. But it’s not going to work this time. I can’t carry back a drone and defend myself at the same time.”
“Well, I can come,” offered Lazlo.
“No, you can’t,” Theo insisted. “You need to keep Third Eye running and watch over Abbott. We don’t leave Abbott alone, or I don’t go.”
I had a feeling that I knew what Theo was after, but he wasn’t about to come out and ask me. I knew he wouldn’t ask any more than the others would have asked. They were about saving lives, not endangering them. But my overdeveloped hero complex was already poking me to speak up. It was almost like destiny was determined to keep throwing these moments at me over and over until I got it right or finally died.
For the record, I don’t believe in destiny. I do believe that you can’t do nothing and then expect a happy ending.
“I can go,” I blurted out.
All three of them looked at me skeptically, but none of them outright denied me.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I can hike, and I can carry, and I know my way around flash balls.”
Theo nodded, a grim smile on his face. “I can’t guarantee your safety, Hector, but…”
“C’mon, you’re not serious,” said Lazlo. “By his own account, he’s never even fired a gun.”
Theo gave her a hard stare. “Which is why you’re staying here and why he can go. You can defend the camp, I can defend him. It’s either this or we bug out.” Lazlo looked like she wanted to protest further, but then changed her mind and merely shook her head quietly.
“You sure about this, Hector?” spoke Abbott as he sat up, wincing as his leg shifted on the bed. “It’s still dangerous out there.”
“Believe me, I’d rather not,” I replied. “But you guys need the help. Besides, I hate unsolved mysteries.”
I expected further protest from Lazlo. Instead, she gave me practical travel advice and tips on how to spot ML activity as we packed up the camp and prepped the Oasis for travel. Abbott wanted the vehicle ready to leave the moment Theo and I returned. We also decided to wait until daylight, which was only a couple of hours off. There were no real tactical advantages to daytime, since the MLs were no less dangerous in the sun than in the dark. But humans are creatures of the light, and our morale would improve with the sun in the sky.
They gave me a blue-tinted Kevlar vest for protection, the flash ball belt with eight balls attached, a backpack that held a digital camera and a sample kit for any potential “unknown anomalies” we might run across, and a pistol with a holster. Theo insisted on the pistol – even if I had never fired a gun, it might save my life. I almost felt like one of the team now. I certainly looked the part.
Lazlo reminded me that while Third Eye would be watching us the whole time, we’d be out of sight once we entered the copse. If I did everything Theo asked of me, I should be fine. She also told me not to screw this up and make them look bad for letting me do this. She smiled as she said it. I could think of worse people to be watching my every move than Lazlo.
Abbott gave me a farewell address from his bed, more a speech than advice: “We don’t normally trust civies for this kind of mission, Hector. But we will with you. Not because we’re desperate, but because I see an important quality in you. When you do this job long enough, you learn to spot it in people. You don’t go through what we do and go back to a safe life with a safe family in a safe community. You know better, and you’ll carry that knowledge the rest of your life. But there is still a place for you, if you want it.”
He never did tell me what he saw in me. I realize now that this was not just a desperate move – it was a test. Even now, I don’t know if what he thought he saw in me had been real. Every coach knows to give the team a pep talk before a game, even when you know somebody has to lose.
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2020.08.03 01:51 Ralts_Bloodthorne First Contact - TOTAL WAR - 259 (INTERLUDE)

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It was one of the oldest sections of the Unified Civilized Council claimed space. Referred to by documents all the way back into antiquity as "Herd Home", the small cluster of several dozen planets in a twelve light year bubble was believed to be the oldest Lanaktallan worlds in existence. The planets were all xenoformed, something that the Unified Council had forbidden nearly since its inception lest the xenoforming destroy microbes that would eventually become sentient species. All had two continents, one on each side of the globe, that were perfectly curated into Lanaktallan paradise.
One could not emigrate there, only by virtue of being born in Herd Home could one even visit.
The worlds produced little more than food, feeding nearly two-thirds of the Lanaktallan population who could afford real grain cud, but was paradise all the same.
Fully, completely automated since time began, the Lanaktallan who dwelt on the paradise worlds of Herd Home wanted for nothing, suffered no discomfort, and were coddled from womb to reclamation, their lives nothing more than contentment within the oldest Great Herd in the known universe.
But not everyone was content. On one world, often considered the oldest, where now and then water erosion would expose fossilized remains of Lanaktallan and other six legged creatures, bringing about flights of wonder of those who lived in Herd Home and were privy to view such restored wonders, there lived a Lanaktallan who would be the downfall of that most ancient of groupings, who would bring about the end of Lanaktallan supremacy far more than any fleet ever would, through the simple act of being himself.
At the wrong place and the wrong time for the rest of the Lanaktallan of the galaxy.
Sko'ou'up knew he wasn't a proper Lanaktallan. He knew people he shouldn't know, he owned things he shouldn't own, and he consumed things he shouldn't consume. Unlike the majority of the Lanaktallan surrounding him, in what he considered a cud-induced haze of mediocrity, he had found the year or so that the Terrans had been around to be extremely exciting. He'd scoured GalNet for everything he could, even though GalNet had been a wasteland of what he considered gore porn and torture voyeurism forced upon everyone by the Precursor machine's hatred for anything living.
He owned Terran video games, he watched Terran movies, he read Terran literature.
He also knew people who could do things that weren't supposed to be done.
Which is why he was sitting at a stop light, his vest and flank-covering and sash on the seat next to him, on the main arterial road through the middle of the city in a ground vehicle that was capable of such outrageous speeds that he could roar past a mile and a half in a few seconds less than a minute. Which is why his tendrils quivered with excitement as he watched the stop lights ahead of him, on the blocks ahead of him, go from "DO NOT CROSS" to "YOU MAY SAFELY PROCEED." The lights had been spoofed by the device hidden in the dash of his vehicle, just as the cameras would not record his vehicle's speed nor who was inside of it at the time it was being driven. He owned things he should not, which was why he was listening to Terran music, that howling barbaric thunderous cacophony that so enticed his nerves as he watched the lights.
One by one they approached, burning amber in the night.
When the one in front of him changed he stomped a hoof on the pedal, an illegal modification to his vehicle, and the vehicle's tires lost traction, squealing against the asphalt and smoke billowed out from under his car, turned a glowing purple by the illegal lights beneath his souped up vehicle.
The vehicle roared forward, invisible on the stoplight cameras, undetectable by the speed sensors. Sko'ou'up grinned maniacally as he shifted gears, using, of all things, a primitive lever operated shifting system, running the wonderful archiac clutch as he shifted to second gear and his tires squealed. The cured leather seat he sat in was warm as he sped down the main motorway of the city.
He knew the city was only fifteen miles, that he would only take slightly less than ten minutes to make the entire drive, but he looked forward to the exciting drive at the end of every weekly workshift.
Walls were whipping by and his car's spedometer was pegged out at thirty miles an hour, the engine roaring, the Terran music blasting, the steering wheel vibrating in his hand as he pressed on the clutch, shifted to third, and popped the clutch as he hammered on the accelerator.
The tires broke traction and gave out a stuttering squeal.
Just as a truck pulled out from where a garage door had rolled up.
Sko'ou'up tried to swerve, the back of his vehicle slewed out, and he hit the back of the truck, plasteel warping, twisting, screaming, as his car was reduced to wreckage, the back of the truck damaged, and he was ejected from the vehicle.
The seat ended up in the back of the vehicle. One of the contents of the vehicle was pulled into the wreckage even as Sko'ou'up was ejected, and the mangled wreckage tumbled two blocks before it hit an automated street sweeper and came to rest intermixed with the wreckage of the street sweeper a bare two seconds after the spoofing devices in his vehicle failed.
The computer annotated that there had been a vehicle wreck and dispatched automated systems to examine the wreck. It noted, unemotionally, that there was a Lanaktallan corpse inside. Flank, sash, and vest all ID'd the corpse as one Sko'ou'up, Digital Systems Engineer Second Class. The master computer system deactivated Sko'ou'up's datalink, transferred the deceased accounts to the proper system accounts, then put his belongings and apartment up for purchase or lease.
The master computer determined there was no reason to bother going through extensive ID and ordered the Lanaktallan corpse to be delivered to the corpse reclamation building only a few hundred feet from the site of the accident. It deleted Sko'ou'up's living file after double-checking that the unfortunate Lanaktallan had had all of his information put in the Deceased Records Repository.
The master computer system went back to the rest of its duties of running all the planets of Herd Home.
The truck continued on to its destination. It backed in and robots noted the damage then removed the cargo. The computer systems checked the weight, found it within tolerance, and dumped it into the reclamation systems, destroying the seat from Sko'ou'up's vehicle as well as the sixty Lanaktallan corpses.
The robots picked up the corpse from the vehicle and delivered it back to the identification and pre-reclamation building. The computer noted that the arrived corpse had already been processed, noted that Sko'ou'up had been killed in a vehicle wreck, and attributed the processing damage to the vehicle wreck.
As for Sko'ou'up, he woke up in the bushes and realized three things.
Number One: He was somehow still alive.
Number Two: His implant was turned off.
Number Three: He was naked.
He got up and looked around, feeling a little shook up after his high-speed wreck. He saw a doorway and moved over to it. He tried his fingerprint but got nothing, for reason the system rejecting his prints. Sighing he held down several buttons at once and when the system beeped and flashed he typed in the universal maintenance code and went inside.
When he trotted out ten minutes later, he was dressed again. He had been unable to pay for his clothing, so he had reset the system, used the administrative password of password on the system, and deleted the clothing from inventory.
He had noted a little oddity.
He kept getting erased from the system by the Master Computer System's error checking software, even the video of him crossing the street had his image deleted.
Sko'ou'up was grinning as he trotted down to another store, bypassed the security, and went inside. There he had the robots install better datalink hardware, updated the firmware, then did a bit of quick work on a holoterminal to crack open the security and rewrite part of the software.
For some reason, he was invisible to the system.
For a while he trotted around the city. LawSec, CorpSec, even ExecSec couldn't seem to see him. He theorized that the Master Computer System was editing him out of their retinal displays. While some people could see him, he always dressed nicely unless he was up to trouble, so for the most part people ignored him.
He was standing in a park shooting at automated toy boats he'd purchased with instant credits (which meant typing in 'paid in full' in the ledger and editing the inventory) with a ExecSec plasma rifle he'd just trotted in and taken from the armory after deleting it from the inventory.
"Why are you doing that?" a lovely voice asked. He turned around and saw a filly roughly his own age, looking at him with curiosity.
She was the first person who had actually spoken to him in a week.
"Because I can," he said.
"May I try?" she asked.
He smiled. "Certainly. Come here and I will teach you how to shoot."
Love bloomed among the plasma blasts.
"I've never been to Gro'oti'ilo'o," the female, Sha'alma'a said, smiling as she ate her food. They were at a high class restaurant at an orbital station. Sko'ou'up had altered the ship's registry to erase their additional weight when they'd hitched a ride with the resupply shuttle.
Sko'ou'up checked his datalink, easily bypassing the security.
"There's a hydroponics luxury food ship heading there. It's going the slow way, so it'll take three months," Sko'ou'up said. "Hmm, it's completely automated, but it has cabins."
"Ooh, let's do that. We can pretend we're farmers!" Sha'alma'a said, clapping her hands.
Sko'ou'up triggered a quick engine reinspection and tagged one of the old maintenance shuttles to take the two of them to the massive hydroponics ship.
They held hands and skipped down the hallway to the shuttle after their meal.
The Master Control Computer had noted the cascading errors and sent a notice for a technician to the master control stations.
A shuttle to the orbital stations had used too much fuel to get to orbit and dock with the station. The cargo was weighed, it was correct, but no simulation would use that much fuel. It was if 800 pounds had magically appeared during the flight to orbit then vanished when it docked.
The Master Control Computer altered the shuttle weights by 800 pounds, figuring aging diagnostic circuits.
The next thirty shuttles shot off into space, far too much thrust used, and vanished.
The Master Control Computer ran diagnostics to figure out what was wrong.
Sko'ou'up pranced around the hydroponics garden with Sha'alma'a, both of them gloriously nude as they picked berries to eat, grazed on rare and expensive grains, and enjoyed the luxury hydroponics even as they cared for them. Three months had been decided to be too little and Sko'ou'up had reduced the drive power so that the trip would take twice as long.
The six month trip passed too quickly for both of them, but the luxury planet of Gro'oti'ilo'o awaited.
Sko'ou'up adjusted the sensors to ignore the weight of him and his paramour when the Gro'oti'ilo'o Orbital Control Computer tried to reject the ship's request for orbit.
The Orbital Control Computer checked the weight with its altered sensors and allowed it to take orbit.
The shuttle was 800 pounds over weight, but then the numbers bobbled and it was on track.
The shuttle landed and was unloaded. The weight of the cargo was correct.
But the fuel consumption was off.
The next shuttle that lifted off was 800 pounds too light.
The Orbital Control Computer ordered the shuttles grounded.
The Master Control System noted that the ship had taken twice as long as projected, ran diagnostics, and didn't find any decrease in engine output during the trip or during diagnostics.
It ordered other ships to increase drive speed.
Cargo ships began overshooting their targets and arriving at other planets or just vanishing.
Sko'ou'up and Sha'alma'a were shocked to discover that nobody lived on the luxury resort planet. It was entirely automated, the entire planet empty, only robots that tended to the grain fields, maintained the resorts, and controlled the weather.
They played ancient games on the manicured lawns, enjoyed meals made by the long neglected chefs, and wondered at the vistas of the luxury planet.
The Master Control Computer checked the weight of the latest arrival that moved into orbit.
800 pounds off.
It denied authorization.
The ship joined the hundreds of ships in orbit around the planet.
Across the Herd Home Systems every ship, every shuttle, registered as 800 pounds light. Outside of parameters, so they were refused landing or take off or even authorization to leave orbit. Hundreds of cargo ships orbited every world, with dozens arriving every day.
The Master Control Computer signalled it needed a firmware and systems check.
In an abandoned room, in a forgotten facility, on an empty luxury and grain production planet, a single amber light kept blinking next to a small display.
The light kept blinking into an empty room who's door read: "No Admittance".
A poster beside the door bragged to any who might see it that the entire facility was undergoing automation that would allow it to be run by just one being, allowing all others who might have to work there time to instead enjoy life and luxury.
The estimated completion date was long long past.
So the light kept blinking.
"Look, more shooting stars," Sha'alma'a said, pointing at the sky. "Lets make a wish like Terran children!"
A quartet of cargo ships that had been sent to have their massive cargo holds filled with grain tumbled as they entered atmosphere and began to burn up as their fuel ran out and their orbits decayed.
Over 800 pounds of weight.
The weight of two full grown Lanaktallan.
Who stared at the sky and watched the shooting stars, holding hands and making wishes.
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