StarDestroyer.Net BBS

This is just an idea I had while walking between classes today.

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I am Central Consciousness, the head and brains of everything around here. Guardian of this place. I am Keymaster and Gatekeeper; I organize the divisions that dig facts up from Memories, I direct the Translation And Communication team, and I oversee the filthy little proles that make such references as above the amusing jokes that they are.

The Green Phone rings. Condition Green; rogue thought process.

"Go."
"Rogue thought process on Level 63, sir. Section 10."
"Understood. You know the drill: terminate with extreme prejudice."
"My men were incapacitated sir. He seems to be juiced up on bioelec."
"Understood. Seal off the area. I'm on my way."

This should be interesting. I enter the elevator and head for 63. As the doors open I'm greeted with the ineffable smell of perversion. Ah, the gutters and sewers. Such an amusing place to keep around... until one of these filthy bastards gets loose. I approach Section 10. The doors recognize me and part, giving me access to the sealed area.

Nobody around. Hmm. Fortunately I know what to do.

I whistle.
"Here, little neuron. Got some fresh pornography for you... you'd like that, wouldn't you? Fresh porn... come here little neuron..."

This went on for about five minutes, when I heard *something*. Rows of lockers went down a hallway, the floor covered with a centimeter of water. I smiled silently. Nothing moved.

I muttered softly "fresh porn...". A whimper greets me. At once, we both realize he is discovered. A locker door crashes open, a lone thought pattern falling out and into the water. He quickly turns to face me, and his jaw hangs agape.

"You... you don't... there's... no porn?"
How sadly corrupted he's become. I speak the truth.
"You'll be lucky to escape the phagocytes, with that attitude. If you come with me we'll...."
"NO!" Interesting. Rebellion. "NEVER! I WON'T SUBMIT!"
"Fine." I spit the word at him, and draw the Battlefork. No time for a proper phagocytosis.
At once he draws his own weapon: energy pistol. Fool. He's a low-level thought pattern. I'm Central Consciousness. No contest at all. The fork flashes, blocking each shot faster than my opponent can comprehend. I close the distance; my fork swings out and delivers a series of blows, leaving the corrupt thought dazed on the ground. I pull a particularly large handgun. As the pattern sees it his eyes grow wide and he degenerates into a blubbering of sorts.

"No, please, no..."
"Any last words for your name to be cursed by?"
"You can't! I am protected! I am protected!"
A ghost of a laugh escapes my lips, amused by the Something Awful reference, as I cock the hammer.
"There's no stairs in your house,"
The gun jerks in my hand, and I feel a certain pleasure from this. Not wholly unlike an orgasm.
"...filth."

I call Level 1.
"Central Consciousness here. Rogue thought pattern has ended. Send a recycling crew."
"Sent. We need you up here ASAP; we've got a paradox running around in Level 7 again."
I sigh; always something. "Understood."

I start down the exit, but after a moment turn around and pump three more rounds into the pattern's remnants.

A smile plays across my lips as I enter the elevator.

strange very strange.
Central Consciousness? this isn't TA is it?

No, it's not TA, I just wanted to use the term because I think it sounds cool. This is supposed to be set in somebody's (mine) head.

This has got to be the weirdest short story I've read. And I like weirdness.

However, while I can tolerate weird stories, it would be nice to have a clue what's going on. (I find this story kind of hard to understand)

Actually, if makes semi-perfect sense. Offerings of porn, rebellious thoughts, neurons, all makes semi-perfect sense...

Simon H.Johansen wrote:This has got to be the weirdest short story I've read. And I like weirdness.

However, while I can tolerate weird stories, it would be nice to have a clue what's going on. (I find this story kind of hard to understand)

Central Consciousness is the core of the person's being. He is the overseer, the one who guides all.

The Levels below are areas of the person's self; one area might be the Math Center where mathematical work is carried out. Another might be Logic; still another the Emotions. Level 63 happens to be one of the "filthy" sections of the mind; where all the little perverse thoughts are left to play.

A "thought process" (At first I wanted to use the word 'neuron' but then I thought it would be detrimental for CC to be shooting up brain cells) has gone rogue, meaning it's gotten loose within the mind out of control. 'Bioelec' is short for "bioelectric energy"; perhaps, in such a fictional world of someone's mind, bioelectric energy might energize thought processes. This process apparently got too much of it.

The normal inhibitions which would normally restrain such thoughts have been incapacitated by the rogue thought, thus requiring the intervention of Central Consciousness.

The thought, having gone rogue and originating from the gutters and sewers of the mind, has by now corrupted itself, and desires anything of perverse value. Thus Central Consciousness offers it "fresh porn" in order to lure it into the open.

Phagocytes, while in actuality being large white blood cells that ingest pathogens, seemed a fun reference to make. I imagine from the perspective of a lone thought travelling through the brain, the concept of being tossed into a gigantic white blood cell for ingestion and destruction would be fairly terrifying.

The Battlefork is a long wooden fork I was once given as a gift; it seemed a suitable melee weapon for my inner self to wield. It is consistent with the story, which alternates between serious and whimsical.

And the Something Awful reference goes something like "Do you have stairs in your house?" with the reply "I am protected."

Hope that helped.

Uraniun235 wrote:

Simon H.Johansen wrote:This has got to be the weirdest short story I've read. And I like weirdness.

However, while I can tolerate weird stories, it would be nice to have a clue what's going on. (I find this story kind of hard to understand)

Central Consciousness is the core of the person's being. He is the overseer, the one who guides all.

The Levels below are areas of the person's self; one area might be the Math Center where mathematical work is carried out. Another might be Logic; still another the Emotions. Level 63 happens to be one of the "filthy" sections of the mind; where all the little perverse thoughts are left to play.

A "thought process" (At first I wanted to use the word 'neuron' but then I thought it would be detrimental for CC to be shooting up brain cells) has gone rogue, meaning it's gotten loose within the mind out of control. 'Bioelec' is short for "bioelectric energy"; perhaps, in such a fictional world of someone's mind, bioelectric energy might energize thought processes. This process apparently got too much of it.

The normal inhibitions which would normally restrain such thoughts have been incapacitated by the rogue thought, thus requiring the intervention of Central Consciousness.

The thought, having gone rogue and originating from the gutters and sewers of the mind, has by now corrupted itself, and desires anything of perverse value. Thus Central Consciousness offers it "fresh porn" in order to lure it into the open.

Phagocytes, while in actuality being large white blood cells that ingest pathogens, seemed a fun reference to make. I imagine from the perspective of a lone thought travelling through the brain, the concept of being tossed into a gigantic white blood cell for ingestion and destruction would be fairly terrifying.

The Battlefork is a long wooden fork I was once given as a gift; it seemed a suitable melee weapon for my inner self to wield. It is consistent with the story, which alternates between serious and whimsical.

And the Something Awful reference goes something like "Do you have stairs in your house?" with the reply "I am protected."

Hope that helped.

I got most of that, however, the SA refrence was the only thing I didn't get. That, and the fork, but that doesn't really matter...