Tales of the Parodyverse

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killer shrike
Mon Jan 15, 2007 at 12:31:48 am EST
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Hey, Al?
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Hope this is OK for a start:



This Story Needs A Title




“I’m bored,” Kara Harper told her brother.

Cody, suddenly wary, put down the novel he had been reading, “You are? That’s… troubling.”

“Don’t I know it,” the young teen flounced onto the couch next to her alternate reality time displaced twin, “Being cooped up in this firehouse is killing me. Let’s go out and do something.”

“After extended stays in Comic Book Limbo and the Twenty-third century, I’m pretty happy staying at home for a while.”

“You’re a dork.”

“Hm: all those centuries of cultural advancement you have, and you can’t think of a better way to insult me?” Cody tutted and went back to reading.

“Just putting it in terms your primitive mind would understand, bro,” Kara stood and stretched, “Well, if you’re not interested in joining me, then I’ll go myself.”

“Go where?”

“Hell’s Bathroom. I’ve always wanted to visit. The display at the Holomuseum was slappin’, but there’s nothing like experiencing the real thing,” she fished the keys to her father’s Maserati from her jeans’ pocket and waved them at her brother, “See you next orbit.”

“You can’t go to Hell’s Bathroom, alone, in one of Dad’s cars,” Cody protested.

“Really? Which part of that scenario is wrong?” his sister seemed genuinely perplexed.

“They all are!” Cody tired, and failed, to snatch the keys from his sister, “Hell’s Bathroom isn’t a museum exhibit, Kara, its one of the most dangerous parts of Paradopolis.”

“You don’t have to sell me, bro.”

“And you can’t borrow Dad’s car without permission!”

“He said I can use the Maserati whenever I want,” she replied with some petulance. Of course, Kara had asked her father when the arch scientist was in the midst of solving a fifth dimensional geometric algorithm without the benefit of his slide rule, so Zodd only knew how focused on the question he was, “Now, are you coming with, or what?”

Cody set his lips in deliberation, “Let me get my jacket,” he finally conceded.

“Cool.”

“And call Dad to let us know where we’re going.”

“Dork.”

*****


Al B Harper tugged at his goatee, “Hell’s Bathroom, you say? I don’t know… its not the most, ah, stable of neighborhoods. But I suppose if you two stay in well-lit, well-populated areas, and Kara remembers to bring her nega-phase disruptor…splendid. Have a good time, and turn on the firehouse lights for us; Muffy and I won’t be back until late. Oh, you too? All right, then… goodbye.”

From the Bentley’s passenger seat Muffy Framlicker watched her business partner hang up his cell phone disapprovingly, “You’re letting the twins go to the city unchaperoned?”

Al eased the luxury vehicle into the restaurant’s parking area, “Well, I suppose one could argue they are chaperoning each another.”

“Hmph,” Muffy checked the lapel on her ecru pantsuit before stepping out of the car, “You’re far too lenient with them, Al. Children need guidance.”

“Yes, of course. But we don’t want to stifle their curious natures. Inquisitiveness is the most important trait a scientist can possess,” Al handed the keys over to the valet and slipped his gloves into his camelhair coat.

“Curiosity must be tempered with caution.”

“Men fear thought as they fear nothing else on earth -- more than ruin -- more even than death.... Thought is subversive and revolutionary, destructive and terrible, thought is merciless to privilege, established institutions, and comfortable habit. Thought looks into the pit of hell and is not afraid. Thought is great and swift and free, the light of the world, and the chief glory of man,” Al quoted Bertrand Russell with some relish, then offered his business partner his arm, “Shall we?”

And the two went off to their meeting.

*****


“What do you think?” the tattooist held up a mirror so the client could see the finished work.

Simon Maddicks looked at the thicket of briars etched into his back and shoulders, “Not bad. Could you make this guy,” he tapped the figure in the trenchcoat hanging impaled on one of the thorns, “look a little more English?”

“Uh, sure,” Ivan Strode nodded, “It might take awhile, though.”

From the table Simon shifted so his head rested on his well-muscled arms, “I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

There was the sound of a tinkling bell in the parlor’s lobby, “Be right back, hoss,” the skin artist wiped his hands and checked on his newest visitors.

A pair of African American teenagers were waiting for him.

“Hey,” the girl asked cheerfully, “How much to get my brother here branded?”

*****


The maitre d of Le Glutton Assouvi led the two scientists to the most private booth in the restaurant and departed. Their host emerged from behind the room’s brocaded curtain.

She was runway model tall and thin, with gleaming dark hair coiffed in a pageboy that reached down to her tawny shoulders. She wore a gold stretch microfiber halter tie neck gala evening gown with ruby adorned bodice, wide hip band trim and tie straps, plunging sling torso and thigh high front slit.

“Doctors Harper and Framlicker, Good evening. I am Nefertiti Jones,” she bade in a deep, throaty purr.

“Please, Call me Al,” the Legionnaire replied with a smile.

Nefertiti smiled back, “Very well, Al. Call me Nefertiti,” she cocked her head at the third in their party, “And it’s… Muffy, correct? Love your suit. Lane Bryant?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Muffy lied, “We really should get started, you look a bit chilly in that outfit.”

“As do you,” the sleek beauty drew back the curtain so her guests could enter, “Shall we begin?”

“Please,” Al let Muffy slide into the booth first, then sat next to her, “You said you represented certain parties that wished to hire EEE?”

Nefertiti produced a small electronic device from her clutch, “Not exactly. This video should explain everything.”

A button was pushed, and a three dimensional hologram of a robust looking gentleman in jeans and a labcoat, “Logos Triumphus: Reason Triumphs. That is the motto of The Exclave, an independently funded scientific inquiry society operating throughout the Parodyverse. It is also its goal. Hello. I am Doctor Alistair Sphinx, and I’m here to offer you membership into our organization.

“Exclave members have the dual benefits of autonomy and patronage. They are allowed to explore the intricacies of their chosen discipline with full financial and technical support without having to worry about that dreaded bottom line. The only limits of your research are what you choose to put on it.”

Sphinx went on to discuss the other merits of the Exclave: the litany of distinguished members, significant resources, and wide-ranging innovations. It was an impressive roll, one that would make any scientist sit up and take notice.

“Logos Triumphus: Reason Triumphs. I hope both of you, Dr. Harper, Dr. Framlicker, are with us to see that moment.”

“A personalized invitation. Impressive,” Muffy drawled before getting down to business, as was her way, “Where does this Exclave get its funding?”

“From the members. They agree to donate a portion of their earnings to the fiduciary health of the group in exchange for membership,” Nefertiti stated.

“What’s the rate?”

“Ninety five percent.”

“Ninety- what is it, some kind of commune?” the severe looking blonde asked incredulously.

“No,” Nefertiti focused her considerable attention onto Al B, who had been sitting quietly throughout the presentation, “The Exclave is a bastion of reason in a world of ignorance, selfishness, and bureaucracy.”

“So it’s a cult then?” Muffy nodded, “What happens if a person doesn’t want their money to fund some quack’s research? Or even worse, fund research they find immoral?”

“I think you’ll find, Dr. Framlicker, that the Exclave’s ethical standards are higher than those exhibited in the corporate world,” Jones said flatly, “What do you think, Al?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. It sounds like a noble experiment. Very provocative. And they want myself and Muffy, you say?”

“Well, you certainly,” the woman cooed, “Alistair is a great admirer of yours. He’s read everything you’ve ever published.”

“That’s quite flattering. I’m afraid can’t say the same for Dr. Sphinx, however. What is his field, again?”

“Dr. Sphinx is an authority on the Heremetic sciences.”

The revelation seemed to incense Al, “I beg your pardon? Hermeticism? That’s not science. That’s alchemy. And astrology. Faith based falderal that has no place in the classroom or laboratory.”

Nefertiti was stunned by the vehemence behind Harper’s denunciation, “But Al, those types of arguments have been used against almost every scientific discipline throughout history, by intolerant observers of the boundaries of the status quo.”

“Perhaps, but one has to draw the line somewhere,” the Legionnaire stood and slung on his jacket before holding out Muffy’s own to wear, “I’m sorry, Nefertiti: but I must decline your offer. And I assume based on the pointed tone to Muf- Miss Framlicker’s questions she is has no interest either.”

“That is correct, Al,” the woman smirked as she slipped into her coat, “Thanks anyway, though.”

Nefertiti watched them go then pressed one stones on the gem-lined hoops that dangled from her ears, “Master? They turned down our offer. Should I proceed with Plan B?”

A hard, cavernous voice filled her mind, “Yes. Your master commands it.”

Another stone was tapped, “Logos Triumphus, Dr. Cyber Raptor. You are to initiate Plan B.”

*****


The doors to the delivery van slid open automatically, allowing the trio of bionically augmented dromaeosaurs concealed within to clamber out on the darkened street. They trilled at one another for several moments before beginning the hunt, as was their way. They stalked over to the Masarati and took several long sniffs, the leader even tracing its tongue along the sports car’s detailed exterior.

“Find the children,” their creator ordered through the implants hardwired to their brains, “Find them, and bring them to me.”

The monsters leapt to obey.


To Be Continued (If Al says its OK)


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