SL Fiction: Christmas In The Deathlands

 

By Bixyl Shuftan

 

It just wasn't his day.

Melvin Cooper poked at the trap. Empty. A few weeks ago, he was getting an occasional rabbit. Now it seems even rats and mice were getting scarce. Fried rat had been unpleasant enough when he first arrived on the Deathlands. Now it seems he was going to have to resort to eating cockroaches soon. And right on Christmas Day too. His smartphone was displaying December 25.

Looking around, snow was still covering patches of the desert ground still in the shade. The good thing about this time of year was it was no longer broiling hot at midday. The flip side was it got more bitterly cold than ever at night. Thankfully he was able to make some shelter from the wind, keeping himself somewhat warm in ragged leftovers of blankets. He recalled the dreams he had of that high-tech city in which for a time he was limited to a "capsule" to sleep in, a space not much bigger than he was. That was luxury compared to all this. Mile after mile of desert and dry grassland, with the occasional wreck, ghost town, and watering hole.

"Raaaaaarrrrr!"

Melvin spun around. A mutant! They varied wildly. Some were almost as smart and reasonable as humans and furs. Most were of limited intelligence and hostile. This one looked almost like a zombie, with skin peeling off part of it's face and several teeth fallen out. It sported a two-handed axe. Probably slow, but very bad news if it got the drop on him.

Where was his weapon? Melvin looked around. He thought he had it in a certain place, but it wasn't there. Dammit!

"Raaaaarrrrr!" The mutant raised it's ax, and rushed forward, faster than Melvin thought it could move. He stumbled out of the way. The mutant continued to charge in a straight line and the ex-burglar was already well out of it's path when it moved past. It wasn't until it had gone twenty feet further before it stopped and turned around, "Raaaaaarrrrrr!"

Melvin still hadn't found his weapon, he looked at a pile of old junk cars. He only had a short time to look before he saw the mutant charging again. Once again, Melvin ran out of the way. Unable to stop, the mutant charged and ran right into the pile. It hit hard enough for the top of the pile to fall on top of it. The mutant was buried.

The former bandit could hardly believe it. With no sign that the mutant was still moving, he decided to see what the toppling of junk had exposed. He noticed the wreckage of a delivery truck that had been in the middle of the pile. Going inside the crumpled cab, there were several smashed packages. But one caught his attention, "Freeze-Dried Meals." He opened the box, and could barely believe it. There were over a dozen foil-packets of dried turkey, ham, potatoes, corn, and cherry pie. Thankfully he saw a thermos, and looking inside, there was water.

Melvin was relieved. At least for now, his food worries were over. He was about to tear into one, then he noticed more movement. Looking over, he saw not a mutant, but ... a child? This looked like a young fox kit.

"Um, hello?" He greeted the boy, at least he thought it was a boy.

"Please," he heard the youngster say. Then there was the gurgle of hunger.

Melvin felt his heart ache. The Deathlands was hardly a place for a kid. Let alone one on his own. He motioned the youth over, followed the instructions on the packet, putting in a little water and shaking it, then handed it to the youth with a plastic spork. But instead he gulped it down from the container.

"Whoah! Take it easy! There's plenty more. What's your name, kiddo?"

"Ar, Arthur."

"Well, pleased to meet you Arthur. My name's Melvin." The ex-burglar fixed a packet of his own, and slowly ate the contents with another spork.

"How you, find?"

"I guess I was lucky. Where's your mom anddad?"

"Mom? Dad?"

"The grownups who take care of you?"

"Uncle Giz. Not know, where."

The two sat there for a while. Melvin tried to talk to the child, but he would say little. Eventually, he decided to start a fire. After he got it going, he thought he saw some movement ...

And then he got knocked backward

"Stay away from him!"

Melvin looked up, and saw himself looking at not the fox kit, but a full grown one, and angry.

"Don't you dare hurt my nephew!"

"Your nephew? Oh, wait! I wasn't trying to hurt him."

"Like hell. You know how many times I've tried to keep him from slavers! I should - "

"No! Uncle, stop!"

The fox looked down, and Arthur was tugging at his pants, looking up with a pleading look in his eyes.

"Arthur! Are you okay?"

"Melvin fed me. Best meal in long time."

"What?" The fox's expression softened.

"I came across some food, he happened to show up, so I shared it."

The fox looked remorseful, "My apologies stranger. Very seldom have I seem a helpful soul around here. Granted things are not as desperate as they were in the past, but this is still not a place known for mercy."

"Apologies accepted. Since you're taking care of him, well, maybe I should give you a share as well."

"You really mean it?'

"Yeah, I do. Merry Christmas."

"Christmas?"

"It's a holiday where I'm from, on this day."

"I know what it is, but what's so merry about it?"

"We usually celebrated with dinner, giving gifts."

"My Father would tell me tales of Santa Claus kidnapping children to work as slaves, making gas masks and other things."

"Huh?" Melvin blinked, then chuckled, "Nah, Santa doesn't kidnap kids, he brings them gifts. I did hear about some other guy, Krampus, who punishes naughty kids. But they're different."

"Krampus?"

"Yeah, Santa's evil counterpart. I guess there's been some kind of mixup over the years."

The fox looked intrigued, "I would like to hear more." Then his stomach rumbled.

Melvin chuckled, "I guess the gift-giving starts now." He got another packet and handed it to the fox, "Merry Christmas."

"Thank you, I, think."

"Welcome ... no, you don't eat the powder, you need to mix it with water. I'll show you .."

Before long, the three were sitting by the fire, eating more of the dehydrated food. Melvin thought to himself. This place still sucked. But at least he could take a moment to relax and end the day with a full belly, and he had made some new friends.

Bixyl Shuftan

Clumsy Cooper's Halloween Tale

 

By Bixyl Shuftan 

It seemed like a simple enough job.

It wasn't like he was going hungry or needed a place to stay. Since falling asleep in a railroad car somewhere in the Deathlands and somehow waking up in this place of high tech called Montecito Bay, Melvin Cooper had been able to make a few bucks here and there doing simple service jobs. And after running into "The Moff," who while no longer the Mayor was the city's most popular resident and still had plenty of influence, he'd gotten a tiny but comfortable apartment he could stay in for a short time for practically nothing until he could get other accommodations. 

 

But something, wasn't right. He was a little tired of microwaved meals every night, with only the occasional dish at a ramen stall for freshly-made food, and he wasn't making enough money to get snazzy clothing and pay for a hot car to pick up women. But there was, something else. There were tales of some megacorporation moving in with more in mind than just making a few dollars, but saw the city as a base of operations for some secret plans. Maybe it was simply getting around some rules and regulations to save a few bucks, or maybe it was for something far more sinister.

He'd been approached by some mystery figure, saying he was a friend of Moff and a "concerned citizen" who had the means to stop these characters if they were up to no good, but only if he had evidence. And since Melvin Cooper had some experience of being a "liberator of assets," perhaps he could uncover something, "I'll make it well worth your while if you discover something of value. Don't bother getting a second opinion from Moff. To make sure he doesn't get in trouble, he is not in the know."

 

So it would seem his old skills would come in handy once more, saving the city and making a few dollars for himself. He snuck into the corporate quarter after hours, despite the curfew that was enforced by a few private guards. And despite that it was the night of October 31, which gave him a few willies. He brought a few donuts to them, saying he had run an errand and left his phone in the area. So they let him in. Looking around, he saw a robot, some kind of drone hovering just over the ground, moving some crates. Maybe they might hold something? He waited until it was gone, then made a move on one of the crates. Thankfully it was light. He would take it to some corner and open it ...

"Halt! You are not authorized to transit that object!" 

Melvin turned, and there was another drone, heading at him. He'd been discovered! He turned tail and ran! The thing fired a taser at him, and missed.

"Alert! Unauthorized personnel, Sector C! Alert! Unauthorized personnel ..."

Melvin ran and ran. It shouldn't be *too* long before he'd be back out of the corporate sector. But he kept hearing a whirring mechanical sound behind him. He turned, and the drone was still after him! Spurred on my adrenaline, he ran even faster. But the machine kept after him.

How was he going to get away? There had to be something. He then thought he saw a shadow ...

 

Then the next thing he heard was a crash of some kind. He turned, and the done was now smashed against the wall. In the middle of the alley was a huge wolf, almost twice his height, and without clothes. A werewolf?

"The boss told me you might need a hand, so I dropped in. What did you find?"

Still fueled by adrenaline and fright, Melvin didn't find relief in the wolf, only fear. He looked for a place to hide. He ducked into an alley, and in some out of the way shop saw a car of some kind, an odd silvery one. He ran over, opened the door, which opened not out but up, and jumped in. Then the next thing he knew, he heard the engine started, the car started to hover, and the next thing he knew, it was zooming out of the shop, with hover-engines. 

 

He had to give the vehicle's steering wheel a hard left to keep from running into the wall. It then began rising in the air, and increasing speed fast. He looked over the controls. He noticed two dates on the control panel, and saw two dates, one marked "Destination." It was on October 31, 1899. What did that mean? Glancing again at the speed, it was going past 60, 70, 80 ... and at 88 miles an hour, there was a flash in the air ...

The next thing he knew was a brief sensation of falling, then landing in some bushes. Groaning a bit, he got up and looked around. Instead of neon lights, glass, and steel, he saw streetlamps, brick walkways, and brick and wood buildings. This was somewhere else, but where. Eventually, he saw a sign, "Caledon."

He recalled reading the place was a major community in the Victorian Era. Melvin had somehow ended up in the Steam Age!

He was wondering about his next move. Then he thought he heard a scream. He ran a short distance, then saw two humans, a woman dressed in what looked like a second-hand dress. The other was some man dressed all in black, with a cloak over his back and a dagger in his hand. He had the woman by the wrist, and the dagger pointed at her.

 

"Please, let me go!"

"You wretch! I'll finish you off here and now!"

Realizing what the man was up to, Melvin forgot about his fear. Instead, he picked up a rock, and threw it at the dark man. It hit him in the head, causing him to let go of the girl, who promptly wrenched her hand free and ran off. The figure then turned to face him, with piercing dark brown eyes, almost as black as his clothes, "I don't know who you are, but that was your last mistake." He then began advancing at Clumsy.

Clumsy's reaction was to retreat, but not run. With all the iron fencing around here, maybe there was a loose bar he could use as a makeshift weapon. Then a shape zoomed down from the sky. Melvin could only make out that it was black, with wings. It charged at the man in black, who turned tail and ran. He ducked into an alley, and the whatever-it-was flew after him. Melvin thought he heard a male scream and some kind of scuffle, then silence. 

The ex-burglar decided discretion was the better part of valor and quickly headed away. But not knowing this town well, he wasn't sure where to go. While on the move, he thought he saw a few policemen running his way. Deciding to hide, he ducked into a wooded park. After well, inside, he was having second thoughts as the place was dark and spooky. Just the right place for something to ambush ...

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound, he turned, and something pounced him, wrapping him up in dark wings. There was a strong musky scent from it, and the smell of blood. Melvin, almost freaked, then to his surprise the dark figure kissed him. It was then he noticed it's feminine shape and bosom. It was a vampire batgirl of some kind, dark red and black.

"I wasn't sure I could help that woman in time," she told him in a raspy but still female voice, "I smell a good deal of recent fear on you, but you put that aside and helped her. Oh, and if you're wondering, the Ripper is still alive. I simply flew over to a constable I know and told him. Well, after having a pint or two first.

"But, I also smell, sadness? loneliness? Aw, poor little hero." The batgirl seemed to smile, "I'll stay with you tonight."

Melvin got very nervous. While he wanted the company of a woman very much, he wasn't so sure about a scary vampire batgirl. She almost seemed to sense his fear, giggling and nuzzling him.as thoughts of bloodsuckers from movies raced though his mind. Then he felt her licking his neck. That was too much, and he fainted.

Eventually he came to. He found himself not on the ground of some spooky wooded park, but sandy ground next to some rusty jeep. He got up and looked around. He was back in the Deathlands. 

Had it all been some kind of dream? Melvin sighed. At least in Montecito Bay, he had a soft and clean place to shower and sleep and didn't have to worry about going hungry, or at least not too hungry. Now it was back to catching rats and drinking brackish water. 

He looked the jeep over. While rusty, it looked like it had been recently running. He had vague memories of tinkering with a few vehicles he found to see if he could get one running with parts from the others. But it seems something blew, and the car toppled, knocking him out. 

He was pondering his next move, when he saw a couple things on the ground. One was a jug of water, about a couple gallons. The other was a small water purifier. There was a wadded paper tucked into a slot on it. Looking at it, these were simple instructions. This could purify unsafe water, salt, germs, even radioactivity. 

Melvin wasn't sure how he had come across this purifier. But in the wasteland, it would certainly be very useful. At least he had somehow come out ahead. He recalled where he had set some traps, and began walking to them. Fried rat wasn't the tastiest thing to eat, but at least he wouldn't be hungry. 

*  *  *  *  *

"Are you sure we should have left him there, Doc?"

"We didn't have a choice, Marty. That would be taking a chance with breaking the space-time continuum."

"But to leave him in the middle of a desert?"

"That was where he stowed on the steam machine. We did leave him with a little water, and something that will help with water in his future."

"Yeah, but still ..."

"I took a trip a few years into the future after that. He'll be okay. A few scares along the way, but eventually he'll be back in civilization, eventually." 

To be continued

Bixyl Shuftan

Looking Back: The Misadventures of Clumsy Cooper

 
By Bixyl Shuftan

Before coming to Second Life, I was a writer of fiction, both short stories and longer tales. When I joined Second Life Newspaper, it was a change to writing about the news. But I never did lose my talent for stories. When the Second Life Newser came about, after a few months in Autumn 2010 it gained a sponsor: the Podex Exchange, occasionally called the Podex Bank, owned by Jacek Shuftan (no relation). As our first sponsor, I wanted to do an article about them about once a month at least. The first few went just fine. 

Problem was, when a bank does it's job right, it's boring. And I didn't want to just write the same thing over and over. So I did some creative fiction of a dragon using the bank. Then I had the idea of a bungling bank robber who's efforts were more comical than threatening. So came the story of him trying to hold up the place with a freebie popgun, and only getting himself knocked out and arrested.

Jacek liked the adverts, so I continued to do them, alternating between satisfied customers and more of the clumsy burglar's attempts. I often used props I had in my inventory. Sometimes I would include an avatar that happened to be there, or some of the surrounding scenery. 

On the robber's second attempt, he tried a rocket launcher but was foiled. Third attempt was ballooning his way over, but that was a bust. Then came masquerading as a pirate. On Thanksgiving, he impersonated an  American Indian. On February 2012, the burglar finally got his nickname, Clumsy Cooper. Thanks to Cupid's arrow, he was unable to try at the bank that month. But in March was back with some St. Patrick shenanigans. 

Then came one tale I made with pictures I took underground with the avatar and a friend, the burglar trying underground tunnels to sneak in and foiled again. In August 2012 was a tribute to the Olympics that year. Then came another Talk Like a Pirate Day tribute that went badly for him, and worse for the other would-be bank robber. He took a short break, but was back in Feb 2003 for Valentine Day shenanigans, as well as April for Easter Bunny bungling.

Podex moved in April 2013. So the story that month was the burglar's plans being foiled by that. Then came the effort by Linden Lab to shut down Linden exchange services. That put the Clumsy Cooper stories on hold for a few months. With the situation resolved, Jacek introduced the Podex Art Gallery, which was the target of another unsuccessful effort by Clumsy. November brought another Thanksgiving stunt from the robber. 

March 2014 was a tribute to the Ides of March. After a break for another few months, he was back for another Talk Like a Pirate Day tribute. In November was the introduction to a semi-regular character whom would be referenced to a few times: The Mastermind. January 2015 had an attempted nighttime burglary that went bad like any other time. In March 2015, Clumsy got the squeeze on by a naga passerby, "Snakes, why did it have to be snakes?"

Unfortunately, June 2015 would see Linden Lab ordering the Linden exchange services to close down again. This time it would be for good. As a result, Podex would close it's operations in Second Life. But rather than leave Clumsy's tale unfinished, there would be one more story in November 2015 in which Clumsy would deal with the shutting down of Podex and find closure. 

That would be the last of the Clumsy Cooper stories. They had lasted four and a half years. In the past six years, I never did write another tale about the character, though the unlucky bandit who never learned his lessons could easily be used in another story, such as a cameo in a webcomic. Perhaps someday I will. In the meantime, the twenty stories about him are a noteworthy chapter in the history of the Newser, and an example of one writer's use of creative fiction done with the purpose of both advertisement and entertainment.

Bixyl Shuftan
 

Santa is Missing: Part 2

By Mylie Foxclaw

Continued from Part One. 

After two intensive days of investigation, one thing was clear.  Everyone living in the North Pole HATED Santa Claus.  My list of suspects was endless.  Everyone had a grudge against him and they all seemed glad that he was gone.  I looked everywhere in the North Pole, putting myself in great danger when I confronted two polar bears who stated that they had to pay a monthly rent to Santa Claus so they could stay there.  To most inhabitants, Santa was an oppressor. 

I was not finding any clues other than that.  That’s when I realised that I would need to infiltrate if I wanted to resolve this case.  I talked to Roan the Elf and explained my problem to him.  I needed to go incognito!  Roan thought for a while and dashed away.  He came back with a box and said that he found the perfect disguise.  I opened the box and smiled.  His idea was brilliant!  I quickly changed into the costume and smiled.  I could pass as a reindeer easily with this thing on.

As I stepped out of Santa’s house, I noticed a commotion nearby.  I went to look and my jaw dropped.  It turned out that the elves had lost hope already.  They had started to audition for a replacement Santa and there were all kind of creatures, including the Grinch, who wanted the prestigious position.  I knew that Christmas would be a total disaster if I did not figure out what happened to Santa Claus.  

I went around, the costume keeping me warm.  I marched confidently, knowing that I would find some clue soon.  Unfortunately, I was wrong.  It turned out that no one had any idea.  The inhabitants repeated whatever they told me yesterday.  To make it short, Santa was a total bastard.  I figured that I had to search elsewhere if I wanted to find Santa.  I decided to venture across the globe on my own in order not to draw attention.  I did not want Santa’s kidnappers to find out that I was investigating.  My search took me to places which I heard Santa would sometimes go during the year.  These included zoos, casinos, strip clubs (yeah I was speechless too when Mrs Claus mentioned this), and more awkward places.  But the thought of someone else taking Santa’s place kept me going.

Some days later, I decided to give up.  There was no trace or clue.  I felt terrible whenever I saw kids walking around excitedly as Christmas approached.  I knew that that Roan and Rudolph were waiting for good days; after all, I had promised them that I would solve this case.  I did not have the heart to tell them that they would indeed need a new Santa.

Before going back to the North Pole, I decided to visit a secluded beach to think about how I would break the news to them.  I found a quiet spot and starred at the waves while I listened to the birds chirping a tropical version of ‘Jingle Bells’.  Suddenly I heard a rough voice shouting in anger, “Rudolph, what the hell are you doing here?”

I looked up and blinked in confusion.  It could not be!  I rubbed my eyes while he continued to shout and yell. 

“Santa?  Is that you?” I asked, watching the old man in his Santa suit and boots and a pair of funky shades.

“What happened to your voice, you idiot?” he asked back.

“I’m not Rudolph!” I shouted, feeling irritated.  Santa looked at me closely and let out a sign of relief.  I explained how I ended up at the beach in my Reindeer costume.  When I finished, I said that he owed me an explanation. 

It turned out that Santa Claus needed a break because he felt overwhelmed and so he decided to take a vacation to a secluded tropical spot, away from the North Pole.  He also wanted to get his dose of Vitamin D from the sun before Christmas. 

“Those bastards are probably happy that I’m gone!” he grunted out as I enjoyed the sun’s warmth.  I nodded as he continued, “Ungrateful ….”

“Do you ever get any gifts for Christmas?” I interrupted as I stared at him.

“Gifts?  Me?”  Santa asked, scratching his head, “I never get gifts.”

“That’s because you are a jerk to your own neighbours!” I snapped, “Everyone hates you, so its obvious that you will never get gifts in your life!”

“But I’m Santa Claus!  Everyone knows that!” Santa argued.

“So what?” I countered, “Being Santa does not give you the right to ill-treat everyone!  And don’t tell me that you don’t.  I know what you tried to do to your snowman!”

Santa looked at his feet for a moment before letting out a sigh, “But North Pole is so boring.  There’s nothing, it’s just all about Christmas!”

“You can make it exciting if you paid attention to everyone.  They got great ideas but they can’t talk to you because you are mean.  In fact if all the children in the world knew how you behaved, they would stop celebrating Christmas,” I stated.

I spent the rest of the evening explaining to Santa how to be a better person and neighbour.  He seemed willing to make an effort.  I hoped he would not disappoint.  At least I had kept my promise to Roan the elf and Rudolph the reindeer.  My job was done.

As for Santa, he will be heading back home soon now that he got his dose of Vitamin D and a suntan.  No one needs to worry anymore.  Christmas is not cancelled.  Santa is fine, he just wanted a little summer vacation before the big day.   

Merry Christmas everyone!  Enjoy!

Mylie Foxclaw

Santa Claus Is Missing: Part One

By Mylie Foxclaw

I was busy planning a defence strategy with Glu-Glu the turkey (refer to the thanksgiving dinner story).  We decided that encouraging people to eat tofu instead of turkey might be a good tactic.  Besides it was a healthy option.  Suddenly the doorbell rang and I went to answer the door.  We were expecting our protest banners to be delivered, but I was surprised as I opened the door.  Standing in front of me were Rudolph the Reindeer, and Roan the Elf.  Glu-Glu, fearing that Santa Claus was hungry, went to hide in the closet while I invited them inside.

“Err… isn’t it too early for presents?” I asked, scratching my head in confusion.  Christmas is supposed to be on the 25^th December… maybe the date changed.

“Santa is missing!” Roan exclaimed while Rudolph sobbed, “We need your help!”

“What?  Santa is missing?!” I cried out in shock, “No way!  He can’t go missing!”

“He has disappeared!” Roan explained, “We can’t find him!  Someone must have kidnapped him!”

“Oh my god!” I muttered, totally shaken by the news, “We need to find Santa!  Else Christmas will be ruined!”

Rudolph nodded while Roan continued.  I could feel the desperation in his voice, “Please!  Help us.  Santa might be in great danger.  We need to save him before it’s too late!”

“Of course, I will help you!  Let me just call Fox News, my boss, he is a good investigator and…” I started.

“Noooooo!!!!!” Roan screamed while Rudolph ran outside in fear.  Glu-Glu started to protest from his hideout. 

“But why?” I asked, wondering why they reacted as such.

“He scares the penguins away with his teeth,” Roan whispered, “When he came to visit last year to interview Santa, they all ran away to South Pole…”

“Okay, fine!” I snapped, “Let’s get going then.  I have to investigate.”

Rudolph came back and off we flew to the North Pole.  It took us a few hours to reach there.  We soon pulled in front of Santa’s magnificent house.  I wrapped my arms around myself as I followed Roan.  We got inside the house and I was amazed.  Everything looked so tidy.  The letters were in neat piles and we could see other Elves working in a corner of the room.  

Roan took me to Santa’s bedroom and I started to investigate.  Everything looked normal; there was no sign of struggle.  I went to his bathroom and noticed that it was very clean and organised.  I was amused to notice a razor since Santa has such a long and bushy beard but Roan explained that Santa liked to shave his legs every Christmas Eve and likes smooth legs.

After an hour, we left the house and I told Roan that I needed to talk to everyone who stayed nearby so we could find a clue.  I started to interrogate the snowman who worked as a vigil. 

“When was the last time you have seen Santa?”  I asked.

“It must have been yesterday night,” the snowman replied, sounding very annoyed, “the bastard snatched my nose and bit into it.”  He pulled out his carrot nose and indeed, I could see that a part of it was missing.  It looked like someone really had a bite. 

“Are you sure it was Santa?” I pressed on, trying to find more clues.

“Ha!  Yes, it was that old fat jerk!  He got no respect for snowmen!” the snowman replied before adding, “He tried to melt me once with his blow-dryer!  I’m so glad he’s gone!”

I starred at the snowman suspiciously for a moment before deciding to interrogate a penguin.  The latter told me that he saw Santa early this morning.  Apparently, Santa threatened to sell all the fish so that he could buy himself a huge Jacuzzi.  The penguin became another suspect. 

By the end of the day, it turned out that almost everyone in Santa’s neighbourhood had a grudge against him.  My list of suspects grew extensively.  Santa’s wife, the elves, the other reindeers, the snowmen, the polar bears and other creatures were all suspects in Santa’s disappearance.

I was not going to give up.  No matter what I learned about that mean old guy, I knew that we had to find Santa, else there would be no Christmas!

What happened to Santa?  Has he been kidnapped?  By whom? Is he still alive?  Stay tuned for the next episode of this story.

Mylie Foxclaw

A Very Unexpected Thanksgiving Dinner

By Mylie Foxclaw

Finally, I would have the perfect thanksgiving in my life.  I had a date and I would prepare a romantic thanksgiving dinner for the two of us.  I had the menu in mind; in fact I had planned each and every single detail and could already visualize it all!

But nothing went according to the plan.  Since I wanted everything to be perfect, I needed to get started early.  The mashed potatoes and dessert were ready and the turkey was in the oven.  This was the first time I was cooking turkey and I had googled so many recipes to be sure I was on the right track.  I checked the oven and saw that it was nearly ready.  I started to tidy around quickly and then I saw the saucepan on the table.  Oh no!  I had forgotten about the stuffing!

I was no pro in the kitchen but I needed to fix this mess.  I quickly switched the oven off and took the turkey out.  “Let’s add the stuffing fast and put it back in the oven!” I muttered to myself.  I started to get to work when my phone beeped.  I checked the text, smiling to myself.  It was him and he sent me a lovely message saying he could not wait to see me tonight.  I continued to stuff the turkey and was almost done when I heard the beeping sound again.  I looked around for my phone, wondering where it was.  I checked under the table, behind the saucepan, over the fridge, etc.  That’s when I heard it starting to ring, I looked around and screamed in horror as I realised that I had dropped my phone in the stuffing and then I was stuffing the turkey, so it could be inside!  I panicked and started to remove all the stuffing, knowing the clock was ticking!

“If I can spot it, it will be much easier!” I exclaimed and I leaned down and tried to peek inside.  I inched closer until my cheek was rubbing against the warm turkey.  I did spot something lighting inside but I was not sure.  I parted the turkey’s legs so I could get a better look.  I pushed my head inside and I heard it ring.  But that did not come from my turkey!  It was a distant sound.  I started to pull out but got stuck!  It took me a long time until I was finally able to get my head out of that turkey!  As I emerged out, gasping for breath, I noticed that my phone was in the saucepan next to my now tattered turkey.

This was awful!  I called the nearby butcher’s shop to order another turkey but they ran out of stock.  I started to google quickly and saw an advert that said turkey delivery and immediately called and gave them my address.  I went to wash my face and the doorbell rang.  I grabbed my purse and quickly paid the delivery boy who told me he left the turkey in my yard.  I thanked him and went out to fetch it.  That’s when I almost fainted. They sent me a live turkey!

I called the shop and they told me that they were no butchers.  As I checked my watch, I realised that I was running out of time and this turkey would have to do.  I went to fetch my knife and starred at the turkey nervously.

 “Listen, I’m sorry but I have to do this or my thanksgiving dinner will be a real flop,” I muttered to it as I stood there with my knife.

“Glu Glu!!” the turkey responded.

“Okay… here we go!” I shouted and took a few steps back before charging forward, screaming like a real warrior but as the knife got closer to the turkey, I froze in my tracks.  “I can’t do this!” I cried out, tears filling my eyes as I dropped to my knees in front of it, “You’re too cute!”

I dropped the knife and stared at the turkey while it continued to cry out, “Glu Glu! Glu Glu!”

I decided to name the turkey, Glu-Glu.  I checked the time and decided that I could order pizza instead; my date would not mind.  That’s when my phone beeped.  “Nooooo!” I cried out as I read the text.  He got an emergency at work and could not come!  I was so upset.

I stared at Glu-Glu and she stared back at me. Well, I did not want to spend thanksgiving alone, so I went to get ready and Glu-Glu and I had a nice thanksgiving dinner that consisted of dessert and coffee.  It was definitely not the thanksgiving I wanted but Glu-Glu and I had a nice time and we decided to fight for the turkeys rights!

Happy Thanksgiving,

Mylie Foxclaw

Creative Fiction: The Morph Machine

By Becky Shamen

We have told before of the joys of changing avs. In Second Life, there is no limit on how many avs and alts you can keep in your closet. In real life we have perhaps the greatest morphing festival ever created, called Halloween. For one day per year, society puts on the blindfold and allows us to be any freakin' thing and/or gender that tickles our imagination. You could say, Halloween is a worm-hole, between SL and real life. However, in reality when we change, we are only changing a costume, like an outfit of clothing. In Second life, if you present yourself as an anthropomorphic fox, the pun telling, mild mannered reporter and editor of a major newspaper, you are in fact, body and soul, right down to your DNA, exactly THAT, and probably the guy we call chief.

If a little of SL can leak into real life, can we, safely, predict that the day will come, when science finds a way to change our real life bodies into any freakin' thing we want? Predictions are rarely 100% accurate. There's too much free will involved. We can improve accuracy by lining up a series of related, true facts and extrapolating what comes next. When we look at an arrangement of standing dominoes, lined up around the floor, we ALL know what's next. In the "real" world, I have been in the position to learn of technologies, already tested, that are decades in advance of what most people are aware of. Let us see if we can line up bits and pieces, of known technologies, to see if a machine could be made to turn you into a real life fox <(insert av here).

Electronic signatures *:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*'``'*:-.,_,.-:*

I have seen a rough scematic for an electrical circuit that can detect a unique electronic signature for any sampled substance. It is one of the strangest circuits I've seen, because one of the components is a tunable glass prism. The recieving sensor of the circuit is a flat wound antenna, upon which objects to be tested are placed. By adjusting the dials, to get the strongest signal, the read out will give you the unique electronic signature of the test subject. It can even distinguish between individual people. The test subject needn't even be present, to be tested. It has been shown to be just as accurate, by substituting a photograph of the subject. Regardless of the distance, between subject and photograph, the circuit gives a real time reading on the subject. With a photograph of an astronaut, even if he were on the back side of the moon, outside of radio contact, you could monitor his life signs, faster than the speed of light. Whatever it is, that creates this electronic signature, seems to exist everywhere in the universe. It is not limited by time and space.

Manipulating DNA

DNA is a collection of protein molecules, duplicated, in every cell of your body. These clusters of molecules are so tiny, you can't see them without a microscope, yet so powerful they can gather and organize millions of their kind into a walking, talking being. The electronic signature of these proteins is what distinguishes one of your cells from one of mine, or any other creature's. In the decades since DNA was discovered, scientists have been mapping out these proteins and learning ways to manipulate them. By cutting and splicing sections, they can create whole new creatures, some useful and some monsters. Playing God, you say? Yes, but are we not asked to be one with our Father? Lately, I've seen where they are learning to manipulate DNA with sounds or frequencies. If a single cell radiates enough of a signal to allign itself with billions of others, what would happen if that cell were bombarded by a signal, the strength of billions of cells, of a different DNA mix? Would the amino acids, from which DNA is made, sympathetically attune themselves, by rearranging their place in line? I have not heard of any experiments in this direction, but if it were tested and proven, it would make possible a whole new kind of machine

The Morph Machine

Fast forward to the year 2033. Our friend, let's call him Aaron, doesn't like his lot in life. He wishes he had a better paying job and more friends that liked him. He goes to his neighborhood adult bar and sees all the cute, buxum bunnies, kitty cats and foxes, dancing on stage, being admired by all and raking in the big bucks. He knows they weren't always this way. They had gotten a morph job, overseas or in Colorado, and were now dreams come true. Aaron has read about these clinics, but they cost too much for his meager budget, so were little more than a fantasy. 

Then, one day, his old uncle passes away and leaves him some money. It's not a fortune, but it's more than enough for a morph job. Aaron goes to the local morph clinic and looks through their photo catalogue. He picks out a tall, buxom female bunny and asks, "Does it come in purple?" "Of course sir, we can fine tune it to your exact specs," comes the technician's reply. Information gathered, the tech takes Aaron to another room and shows him the machine. He inserts a photo, in a slot, turns a few knobs and pushes a few buttons, then motions Aaron to a door, leading to the morphing chamber. 

In the center of the room there is an operating table. The walls of the room are covered with parabolic dish antennas. As the tech secures Aaron on the table he explains that the changes aren't instant. Some will show up in days, others, like long ears, fur, fluffy tail and bone structure, will take longer to grow in. The one thing that will stay the same is the synaptic connections in the brain and it's memories. The tech goes to the control room and throws the switch. Aaron hears a soft hum and soon falls asleep. About an hour later, the tech wakes Aaron up and informs him that tests show the morphing was a success and that he could go home now. 

At home, Aaron goes straight to the mirror and looks at himself and sees the same old body. But not for long. Within a few days, he notices the color of his skin is changing, a soft downy fur is growing all over and his ears and breasts are sensitive. Over the next few months, he notices all the other employees are much friendlier and want to chat at the water cooler and break room. They always ask if he had picked out a new name yet. Even before the changes were complete, people began calling him Miss. 

Within nine months, the transformation was such that it was time to go to the court house and have the paperwork done, to make it official that he was now a female rabbit, named Miss Rosie Martin. She started working evenings as a dancer and soon quit her old job. Eventually, she opened her own nightclub, where all the dancers and clients called her "Mom".

And, she lived happily ever after,

Becky "Sha" Shamen

Creative Fiction: Second Life’s TV Commercial

Originally written and published in Spring 2010 under Second Life Newspaper, this was my attempt at Second-Life inspired fiction. These were the days of M Linden. For those not familiar, he the second CEO of Linden Labs noted for his apparent disconnect from the wants of the residents of Second Life and a number of questionable moves on his watch. In this story, M Linden is interested in television advertising to pick up numbers, and an aide gives him two proposed commercials.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“So what do you have?”

“Well, Sir, our agency went through a number of commercial ideas, and selected two different ones to do commercials on. We decided to leave it up to you which of them to air, or perhaps both if both are to your liking.”

“Or we could ask you to start over.”

“Um, of course, Sir. Anyway, we heard there was a dispute between your staff about which direction to take in marketing your virtual world. Do you try to appeal to a select audience, saying Second Life is a special environment that is only for those looking for more creativity other places online offer? Or do you say Second Life is so big and so diverse, you have a little something for everyone with a computer?”

“I believe your job is to create commercials, not make decisions on issues limited to management.”

“Er, well, Sir, in any event, these two commercials each market a different point. I will go ahead and play them for you, and hopefully they will meet your approval.”

“We shall see.”

A TV screen in the room came on, and then appeared a caption, with a narrator speaking the line as well.

“You could join a Massive Multiplayer Online Game, with everyone.”

The scene then switched to an animated figure in medieval armor, sword and shield, fighting a ferocious looking beast. It’s a tough fight, and the health bar of the fighter is getting low. Finally the beast cries out and collapses. The scene then changes to the player, “Whew! That was close. ... Aw darn, only fifty experience points. Man, I hate grinding.”

Another scene comes of, of a dwarven figure picking at a rock with a pickaxe. After a few seconds, it changed again to a frustrated gamer, “C’mon, c’mon ... Finally! Just seven thousand one hundred, and twenty one more addimantium ores before I level up. Only a dozen more levels before I can finally mine unobtainium!”

The screen switches to the man talking into his computer, “Hey guys, who wants to make a dungeon run?” “Sorry dude, you’re too low level for me.” “I only go on Level 200 runs.” “Beat it, newb!”

The scene changes again, a man dresses in financial Medieval garb, going down a road. All of a sudden, a shadowy figure leaps out, there’s a flash of a blade, and the first figure collapses. The scene changes to a surprised player, “What the, one shot?” And from the computer there’s laughter, “LOL! I haxxor yur gamez. I pwned U, nub!!”

Another scene comes up, a team of players is gathered around the body of a dragon. The man behind the computer types, “Whew! It was tough going, but we did it. I’ll bet you guys never faced anything like this at the office.” But the comments get confused remarks, “Office? I’m in 8th grade.” “7th for me.” “Dude! You’re old!”

The screen goes dark again, and comes a caption, with the narrator speaking again, “Or you could go to Second Life.”

The scene changes to a handsome-looking, though plainly dressed female avatar walking through a door, and into a well detailed club, with bright lights, crystalline structures, and a few dozen avatars either dancing in the middle, or socializing closer to the new visitor, mostly human, but also a few nekos and a single furred, all well dressed. A few notice the new arrival, and wave at her, “Hi!” “Welcome.”

The screen then shows the woman outside a store, cutting to her inside and looking among a wide variety of dresses, on both mannequins and signs. Split second shots show her in a variety of fashions, from punkish, to high-class elegant, to ready for a night on the town. Her next stop, a scenic beach, which shows her at one point riding a jet ski, cutting to flying a hang glider alongside a flock of birds over a lush forrest, to surfing a big wave.

The scene cuts to a party, in which the lady is happily dancing at a club to some music. She stops, and walks to the wall, where there’s a sign saying “DJs wanted - will train.” The next scene then shows her in the DJ booth, operating the controls, and the audience emoting, “I love this tune - whoo-hoo!”, with her tip jar radiating dollar signs.

The next scene is after the party is over, it shows her making adjustments to the DJ table, slightly higher in places. Then she’s in a sandbox, building furniture. Following that is a store with her face on the sign, with “Grand Opening” underneath, and furniture inside. The next scene shows her on a stand, designing dresses. Following that is the store with several of her designs, a number of women looking and shopping. This is soon followed by a fashion show, with models going down the runway. Then comes a scene in front of an audience with her and another lady sitting on chairs on stage, with what look like TV cameras pointed at them, and a screen showing the two of them, “Tonight, we look at the woman recently voted by Metanomics as ‘Second Life’s Newcomer Entrepreneur of the Year ... “

The screen then goes black, and captions appear again, “You can go to an online game with everybody, and be a noob. Or, you can go to Second Life, a place where those whom are exceptional can go limited only by what they want to do.”

“Second Life: Not for everybody.”

The screen then faded, “And that’s our first commercial.”

“Hmmm. Not bad, though it seems instead of a broader audience, we would be appealing to a niche market.”

“Perhaps, Sir. It seems no matter what we do, numbers of people turn away. They’re confused by not being given clearly defined goals, or they confuse virtual worlds with games and don’t see a point if there’s nothing to kill. With that in mind, we did this commercial. That it focuses on a woman character was a deliberate decision. Although Second LIfe has no shortage of female users, forty percent compared to the twenty percent of World of Warcraft, there’s still room for improvement..”

“Hmmm. So, the second commercial is more about mass appeal?”

“Yes, Sir. The theme is ‘a little something for everyone,’ appealing to peoples’ varying tastes. We had a little fun with it at segments, appealing to humor. Perhaps low humor, but - “

“Can you please just play it?”

“Oh, pardon me Sir. Here you go.”

The screen was black, with the following caption appearing, with the narrator speaking the words, “People are different, and are interested in different things.”

Another caption appears, “The apartment-dwelling nature lover.”

The scene changes to a blonde lady in plain-looking clothes talking to the camera, “I’ve always loved walking around nature, but with my job I need to live in the city, and the park is so far away.”

The screen changes back to black, and up comes another caption, “The veteran.”

A middle-aged man wearing a POW shirt and with thinning hair is now the speaker, “I like getting in touch with my buddies from the Army, talk about Iraq and other old times. But we can meet up only so often, and while there’s chat rooms, I wish there was a way to see them.”

The screen goes black again, and the caption is now, “The science-fiction/fantasy fan.”

A dark-haired lady wearing glasses and dressed as if working in an office appears, “I’ve always had a love for sci-fi and fantasy, not just the adventure, but also seeing new worlds and peoples. Movies and books are great, but I wish there was something more.”

Once again, the screen goes black and comes a new caption, “The world traveler.”

The person now facing the camera is a man in a business suit, “I’ve always liked traveling about and seeing the world, the monuments, the different cities and cultures. But I have only so many vacation days a year, not to mention limited cash.”

Again, the screen blackens, and comes still another caption, “The average 18 year old male.”

The person shown is a young man with rumpled clothes and hair, and a few acne spots, “Boooooooooobs.”

The screen blackens again, with a new set of captions and narration, “Different people with different wants. Yet they all go to the first place to meet them.”

“Second Life.”

The scenery that appears is a blonde lady avatar walking around in a virtual forrest, the underbrush lush with flowers. The voice from the nature lover speaks, “Oh wow! It’s just like being there.” A scene change then shows her riding a horse. Then comes a scene of her hang-gliding over the treetops. This is followed by her underwater, swimming in a skin-diving suit with bubbles floating to the surface while looking at a coral reef, “So cool!”

The scene changes again, and a group of men and a few women are sitting in a circle, some in uniform, others in T-shirts & jeans or denim vests and jeans. Speaks the voice of the Veteran, “I’m really happy to be here with you guys.” The scene changes to the men reflecting in front of a solid black wall with names, and flowers and flags at the bottom: The Vietnam Wall, “Here, we can truly reflect better than in a chat room.”

The scene switches to an avatar much like that of the dark haired woman on a posing stand. It goes through a few changes. The first is just clothing, to skimpy fantasy armor. Then the avatar changes to a slender lady elven form in a silken dress, then an athletic-looking but still feminine orc fighter wearing just leather shorts and a top, then an anthro skunk in shorts and a short blouse. The woman’s voice is heard, “Hey, I can look like just about anything here!” The scene then changes to the skunkgirl wearing a jumpsuit and wielding a lightsaber, swinging it at a robot and cutting it to pieces. Then comes a scene in which a six inch catboy avatar is sitting on the skunkgirl’s shoulder, and the camera panning out a little shows her on the shoulder of a fifty-foot macro catgirl, “It’s just like walking into a book here.”

The scene changes to a well-dressed male avatar, walking in a city square with sizable and detailed fountains, “I don’t believe it. They got all this in a computer?” The scene changes to the man looking at the Statue of Liberty, then the Eiffel Tower, then the Mayan Pyramids, “This is great. I can just look around here until one day when I can afford to see it for real.”

Then comes a scene of a seedy looking girly bar, with rap music playing, and over a dozen male avatars ogling at a few scantily-clad females twisting and moving around dancepoles. The camera focuses on one punkish-looking male in the bunch, staring at one girl dancer as she moves and bends down to him, as if to give him a closer look of her front. Then comes the voice of the young man, “Boooooooooobs.”

The screen goes black, and comes a caption with the narrator speaking, “Second Life: Something for Everyone.”

“Well, there you are Sir. That part with the kid we debated whether to include or not, so we decided to run with it, and see what you thought. If you like this commercial, we could easily delete than part.”

“No, do not get rid of that. This is what we need.”

“Excellent Sir. I’ll contact the stations that expressed interest in airing an advertisement, and - “

“No, that’s not what I meant. Could you do a commercial focusing more on the 18 year olds and what they like?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Second Life really needs to tap into the young adult market, and so far we’ve been lagging behind. We need to make stronger appeals to them, and nothing sells to them quite like sex.”

“Um, Sir, haven’t we been trying to get away from the perception that Second Life is about little but sex and populated by mostly perverse men? We were just having a little fun with it, and including there was much more.”

“Yes, but for some time our numbers, both in revenue and users, have stagnated, even declined. We need a fresh approach to bring people in, and young adults are the key market.”

“Sir, you do realize that if what you’re proposing hurts our reputation, it will take quite some time, perhaps years, to undo the damage?”

“Don’t give me that! You do your job, and I’ll do mine! I’ve made my decision!”

“(sigh) Yes, Sir, I’ll have work done on a commercial focusing more on the, adult, side of Second Life.”

“Excellent. We’ll feature various places in Zinrda. Maybe work with the pornographic studios. I can just see the business world talking about our new numbers.”

“I just hope we don’t end up making boobs out of ourselves.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

M Linden was shown the door not long after this story first aired, so whatever ideas he had for TV advertising went away. But if you could, what TV commercial would you do for Second Life?

Source: Second Life Newspaper

Bixyl Shuftan