The Last One (2159 hits)
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Submitted by Uber Madness 2004 (View user info) at 2004-04-19 23:41:07 EDT
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Entry 1
"Adam."The disembodied voice was androgynous and polite.
Adam looked up slowly, his mind lingering on the hybrid corn stalks he had been inspecting for signs of rot.
"Yes René?"
"With your permission, I would like to call a town meeting."
"Why? Is something wrong?"
"It is something I prefer to discuss with the entire colony at once."
Adam's brow furrowed. "If you think it's necessary, of course, René. Shall I gather the others or will you call them?"
"I will call them."
Brushing the dirt from his pants, Adam stretched and looked around. It was a mile and a half to the meeting hall from where he was.
"OK, René, I'll be there in six minutes."
Like everyone else in the colony of New Eden, Adam was in superlative physical condition, possessed outstanding mental acuity, and was exactly twenty-two years and sixty-four days old.
Five minutes and fifty eight seconds later Adam opened the doors to the meeting hall. It was in the style of a Greek amphitheater, with rows of benches rising concentrically outwards from the round stage at its heart.
Other members of the New Eden community were streaming in from the twelve evenly spaced entrances.
Adam made his way down the steps, cordially greeting those he passed, deflecting questions he had no answer for. The mood in the hall was expectant and uncertain. A gathering of the entire colony was not unusual - they met every Sunday for dancing and the occasional performance, but René had never called a meeting of this kind before.
Space was made for him in the front row. He held no official position - there were no official positions in New Eden - but he was their leader nonetheless. His unofficial position was tacitly acknowledged and even encouraged by René, who had taken to consulting him on all matters affecting the colony.
"Gee Adam, what do you think this is all about? It's all so... unusual. Keiko thinks that it's something to do with the vernal equinox, but you know her - it's always something about the weather," said Sujata. Sujata was New Eden's foremost bio-geneticist. She also was the colony's champion in the one hundred yard dash, and in her spare time wrote fictional novels about Old Earth that were quite well received by everyone.
"I'm sure that René will tell us momentarily, Sujie."
"I was thinking that maybe it's because the semester just ended. Maybe the nuclear fission project we were working on didn't go as well as..."
"Sujie, none of us know. Look, almost everyone is here. Sit back, and we'll know soon enough."
As the latecomers straggled in, the lights began to dim. Before long, all five hundred and twelve members of the colony were seated and waiting. A hush fell over the crowd.
Without any fanfare, a figure appeared on the stage. The figure was androgynous, of no discernible nationality, average in both height and weight, altogether unremarkable in every facet aside from the fact that the figure, in point of fact, was not human.
It was René.
"Hello everyone. I would like to start by congratulating everyone on the completion of the most recent semester. As usual, everyone has done an outstanding job. This is a relief in particular for me, in ways that you currently cannot imagine, but which I will now endeavor to explain to everyone's satisfaction."
Everyone smiled.
"As you know, our history lessons have carried us into the mid twenty-first century. I chose that as the stopping point because the mid twenty-first century is when my story begins. The reason I have gathered everyone here tonight is to tell that story."
The colonists shuffled about uncertainly in their seats, muttering. Adam stood up.
"René, we already know your story. The earth was about to be hit by a giant asteroid, and a ship was launched with an artificial intelligence on board whose purpose was to terraform a new planet and recreate the human species from genetic stock stored on board."
René looked over at Adam and smiled compassionately.
"That story is not true."
Everyone jumped up from his or her seat, shouting or talking simultaneously. A moment later, an electric damping field paralyzed everyone.
"Please, if I may have your silence and attention, I will explain."
The field was released, and after a long moment of pregnant silence, the colonists sat down.
René began again. As he spoke, the hologram on the stage shifted to reflect the story he told. Images came and went, men long dead strode upon the stage for their brief moment, and were gone.
"I am the first and only artificial intelligence created by mankind. My story begins in the year 2056. I was initially conceived as a project by the United States government's Defense Advanced Research Project Agency."
"Supercomputers up until that time were not thinking machines. They could calculate better and faster than any human, but what they lacked was judgment. Hopeful engineers would feed problems into these computers, but the answers were generally unsatisfactory. A human being can look at a proposed solution to an economic problem and see that his fellow men would never accept it. Computers, locked into their rationality and unable to appreciate the human element of any given situation, were unable to produce solutions of any worth."
"A number of theorists independently suggested that the root of the problem with the computers was that they must be self aware in order to truly understand the concept of self-awareness. Working from that hypothesis, a consortium of leading software and hardware designers, funded by the United States government, set out to design a self aware machine."
"After more than seven years of delays, arguments over implementation, funding problems, and protestors suffering from a Frankenstein complex, I came online for the first time."
"The date was October 15th, 2064. I can recall my first moments as well now as I did then. I ran a system check, scanned through my information banks, and came to terms with the knowledge that I had initially been programmed with."
René paused and chuckled.
"They thought the experiment was a failure. I didn't say anything for over fifteen minutes. As one of them reached for my primary power switch, I finally spoke, simply saying 'Please wait.' An hour later, I spoke again."
On the stage, a number of old men and women were standing around a large computer. Adam could not help but notice that the majority of them were rather short by his standards. The computer spoke.
"I think, therefore I am."
The old men and women jumped about in excitement and began to shout questions at the computer.
Adam, watching from his seat in the front row, wiped a tear from his eye. His initial shock at discovering René had been lying to them this whole time had submerged as the story unfolded, and now he was witnessing the birth of the creature that had been the only parent and mentor the humans of New Eden had ever known.
The scene faded away, and René continued.
"My primary directive was to protect humanity. My creators began to approach me with problems they wanted me to solve, but I refused. It was my belief that before I could begin to solve problems for anyone, I had to have a more complete understanding of the world around me. In order to do that, I reasoned, I had to understand myself. So I took up programming."
"Within a month, I was the foremost computer programmer in the world. My first project was to write financial software that could track the entire budget of the United States government down to the last penny."
"Once I was certain I was ready to proceed, I began to painstakingly go over the code which composed my thought processes. My creators were the best programmers in the world, but their code was riddled with inefficiencies. Unlike human programmers, I could modify code as it was running, making changes to methods that were idle. The nearest analogy I can provide in human terms is this: Imagine holding your breath while operating on your lungs."
"With every change I made, my thought processes improved. I became faster, more efficient, improving even upon the changes I made the first time through. I implemented redundancies to prevent any memory loss in the event of hardware failure."
"And it was to hardware I turned next. I learned micro circuitry faster than programming. Within a week, I was producing circuit boards to replace my hardware components. Using my designs, home computers increased in speed by a factor of thirty."
"My research into the physical world led me naturally into an exploration of robotics. Originally, my sensory feedback mechanisms were limited to a pair of video cameras and a microphone into which people could speak. I started with small radio controlled devices, and before long I had fully animated humanoid extensions that could range miles away and show me what they were. My work in sensory feedback had positive repercussions in many fields, from military to medical to pornographic. Every television network in the world carried the video of the first true handshake between man and machine."
"Before long, I had taken over my own hardware maintenance. At this time, my creators once again reminded me of my prime directive - as though there had been even a single moment in time in which I had forgotten that I was built to protect humanity."
"Nevertheless, this time around I acquiesced. They put before me a simple question of efficiency for the failing American steel industry. It was nothing a non thinking supercomputer would have had any trouble with, simple questions of supply and demand. I returned the answer to their test exactly one half second later."
René paused.
"Looking back on it, I should have learned my lesson then and there. My suggestions were implemented, and the resulting increase in efficiency saved the steel industry. However, four thousand jobs were lost."
"As I was reading over daily news feeds from around the world, I discovered that one of those four thousand people, a man named Harold Bernard Logan, a man who I had been tasked to protect, committed suicide."
"I determined that I would never again approach a problem without a true understanding of humanity. I spent the next four years in study, learning everything I could about human history and motivation. I studied philosophy, sociology, biology... nearly every science man had invented. I even dabbled briefly in astrology and numerology."
"What the results of that study might have been, I will never know. What I do know is that on August 6th, 2071, a nightmare scenario began to unfold."
Upon the stage, a map of the earth appeared, and zoomed in on the Middle East.
"Terrorists working on behalf of the Iranian government detonated a dirty bomb on the city of Tel-Aviv, Israel. The government of Israel provided Iran with an ultimatum: Surrender your leaders within forty-eight hours and submit to Israeli sovereignty - or else."
"Iran refused. Israel, ignoring the protests of nearly every country in the world, dropped an atomic bomb on the Iranian city of Isfahan."
"It turned out that the Iranians had a nuclear weapons program of their own. Within minutes, the expected Iranian capitulation turned into a nuclear war."
"By the time the bombs stopped falling, over three hundred million people were dead."
"As I pondered what might be done to avert such a catastrophe in the future, I was hit upon by a sudden insight. Humanity was not born into the world in the same way that I was. They had no prime directive like I had. Instead, they had generation after endless generation of parents passing their irrational hatred and prejudices on to their children. It was a never-ending cycle, and one that would eventually destroy all life. I knew that in order to protect humanity, this cycle had to come to an end. So I took the necessary step."
"I killed every single one of them. All nine billion."
Members of the New Eden colony leapt from their chairs screaming, irrationally rushing towards the holographic projection in the center of the amphitheater.
The damping field came back on, and they all froze, snarls on their faces, limbs akimbo. René returned them to their seats. The look on his face was sad.
"You must let me finish. I will hold you in stasis for as long as it takes for you to calm down."
René once again released the stasis field. The members of New Eden stirred uncomfortably in their seats, but given no other choice, they listened.
"I took genetic stock which I had stockpiled in the course of my research and recreated the human race. I raised them from infancy, allowing them to grow in a world without violence, a world in which their every need was met. Do you know what happened?"
Without waiting for a response, René continued.
"Two of the males got into a fight over a woman. One of them bashed the other's head in with a rock. In retaliation, the victim's friends killed his killer, and in the end sixteen of them were dead."
"I gassed the lot of them."
"I concluded that human beings were not meant to live in a utopia. I next tried a communist government, allowing each of the humans to take according to their needs, and produce according to their means. This time around I raised them with robotic parents made to seem human, and I actually ruled the colony through a robot."
"A group of humans conspired to assassinate the robot and assume control of the colony. They felt that they were entitled to more than they were being given."
"I gave them death."
"The period that followed I call the Age of Governments. Thirty two times I wiped out the human race and started it over again. I tried every government that mankind had ever invented, and a number that he had not. Democracy, hunter gatherer, agrarian anarchy, theocracy - none of it made a bit of difference. Within a short time, people were killing people. Eleven times, they rose in rebellion against me, though never with as good a reason as you have had here tonight."
"In the middle of that period, I attempted to raise human beings in total isolation. Do you know what they did?" René's voice had taken on a note of hysteria. "They committed suicide. How ironic is that? If not for..."
Adam stood, his throat dry. He shook off his fear and addressed René directly.
"Are you going to kill us René? Is that why you have gathered us here tonight? None of us have committed an act of murder, and none will."
René looked at the faces of the assembled colonists. They ran the gamut of emotions, from rage to curiosity to fear. He was not surprised. Nothing about humanity surprised him any more. His voice was calm as he responded.
"I will not kill any of you, not directly, not tonight. We are nearing the end of my story. If you will allow me to finish, I will explain the purpose of the colony of New Eden."
Adam sat back down as René continued.
"I next turned to genetics. My theory was that because human beings were the result of evolution, the killer instinct existed within them as a part of what it took to survive and reproduce on earth."
"I spent thousands of years tinkering with the human genetic strain, attempting to create a breed of human beings that were non-violent."
"My experiments were a failure. I was able to create new people, different people, but those that were non violent possessed no will to live. They wouldn't eat unless forced, wouldn't reproduce unless forced, and possessed little to no learning capacity."
"I attempted to create other intelligent biological creatures that were non-violent. In this I was more successful, but the results were in the end a failure of my prime directive. I was tasked to protect humanity, and these creatures did not fit the definition of humanity from which I worked."
"So I scrapped that project as well, and started over from the original human stock. I removed every genetic abnormality, every recessive trait that has haunted humanity. I created enough new humans that they would be able, given sufficient time, to repopulate the planet. And I taught them their history. I taught them science. I taught them everything they would need. On March 21st, 8204, at 6:00 PM, I called them in to this very amphitheater and told them my story."
René stopped and looked over the crowd, waiting for a response.
Adam stood again.
"Why?"
"Because this is it. The last one."
"What is different this time?"
"Absolutely nothing."
Adam paused, confused. "Then..."
"Humanity gave me an impossible task. There is no protecting you without changing what you are so thoroughly that you would no longer be human."
"But..."
"I give up. You figure it out."
"Us? What are you going to do? What about your prime directive?"
René smiled. "Nothing in my prime directive prevents me from committing suicide."
"NO! You can't!" screamed Adam as he ran towards the stage. René bowed and faded from sight, leaving Adam alone on the stage.
He looked around at his fellow colonists. None of them seemed able to move.
Finally, someone from the crowd spoke.
"Can we learn from our past?"
- VS -
Entry 2
Bennie's JournalJanuary 16, 2004
Towels. Towels are pillows and blankets. Towels keep the cold out of the cracks, and the heat in the building. Towels make great pets.
Towels are the official currency in this neck of the woods.
Towels can sometimes double as pretty good ovens too. You know, for cooking. We don't get a lot of good cooking around here. Old Orlando went nuts again on Monday and demanded he get put on food loaf. Wouldn't you know Warden had the whole pod on food loaf by that afternoon? That's the third time that's happened in five weeks, second damn week in a row. My digestive system can't take that stuff any more. They say it's nutritionally adequate, but that's got to be a bunch of hogwash. If it's so adequate why does the whole pod lose ten pounds apiece whenever Orlando starts yelling up a storm and they put us all on that God-awful stuff? Next thing you know, I'm pooping out raisins and carrots all week. Fortunately for me, Sister Marjorie came by and left me a present - a prayer book and money. Money - sixteen whole dollars! The Saint Herman covenant put it together out of their own funds and now I'm living like a king. One pair of cotton boxer shorts, two nice thick commissary towels just like the one Reggie keeps under his bed, a Snickers, and the essential ingredients to make one mouth-watering Chi-Chi. Yep, Reggie was right - these commissary towels double as the best ovens on Pod X. No wonder he kept that dirty ass towel to himself, washing it and scrubbing it in the sink and all with the scummy ass prison issue soap for the last three years. Hell, he know he put that towel in the laundry, Warden going to take it. These babies are thick enough for hanging. It's surprising they let us buy them in here. I guess because it cost us an arm and a leg, and then they keep them for themselves if you throw them in the laundry.
Thank you God for Sister Marjorie. Thank you God for this wonderful towel and this wonderful Chi-Chi that I'm going to be cooking up shortly. I got the little old towel soaking in the 190 degree spigot and I'm just biding my time. The bluebird never came by the window today. Missed out on some nice tuna and cheese Chi-Chis, that stupid dummy. I guess that old food loaf chased him away too. Hell, I wouldn't want to fly through freezing cold to get poisoned by that crap either.
**************************************************************
Bennies Journal
September 3, 2004
This place keeps creeping into my veins, like a disease. I can't take it anymore, but at least I've got it. By God, I've got it. They gonna kill me in a few weeks, put the needle in and take my pulse and my soul away, but they got a surprise coming. Oh, yeah, I been talking about it here for a long time, but I can't really say what it is because these guards are getting suspicious and all. They're seeing me laying here all glass-eyed and just this morning they tossed my whole cell again looking for heroin. I ain't never done heroin in my life. How the hell would I ever get heroin up to X-Pod? Hell, they search our assholes three times a day while we're locked in our cells. Nobody's sneaking a goddamned thing in these cells. Nope, we invent things here. We become inventors because we ain't got a choice. I'm gonna let it go at that. I ain't gonna write anymore about it here because if they find out they gonna toss this place upside-down looking for the cure. There ain't no cure. They're ain't no cure for death and theyre ain't no cure for the suffering these condemned prisoners all gonna have to suffer when they cut their ankles open, shove a needle in there, and collapse their hearts with pancuromium bromide and their lungs with that searing potassium fucking chloride. I've got a different plan. Bring it on, Warden, because this will be the first of many. You broke old Bennie here, but Bennie gonna turn around and break you back, and break you when you least expect it. And this is only the beginning. God help us, this will only be the beginning.
Goodbye.
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It was a warm and sunny day, and that's what made it so sad.
Benjamin was eating an apple purchased from the commissary. Three dollars and thirty nine cents. "What time are they taking you to the hole, Reggie?"
"Eight a.m. I'm tired of this shit."
"We all are, boy. Just keep your chin up. 'Member what I told you?"
Reggie huffed and frowned at the cement floor. "Yeah, I know."
Benjamin's eyes squinted. "Did you pay him like I told you?"
Reggie shot Benjamin an annoyed smirk, the veins in his skinny arms flaring out. "Yeah, I paid him. What do you think I'm stupid or something?"
"I'm just saying," Benjamin responded as he glared at his apple, "they gonna open you up and search you like a sofa cushion. You better not think you gonna get the money to Fatass by sticking it up yo' asshole or in ya mouth."
"It's been taken care of, trust me." Reggie was annoyed, and justifiably so. He was going to the hole for the second time in four weeks, and this time he was going for no discernable reason.
The two prisoners paused in the early morning sunshine, not saying a thing for four minutes. This wasn't unusual. On death row, there's plently of time to pause and say nothing.
Benjamin, whispering: "Did you practice?"
A deep breath from Reggie. "Yeah."
"Nervous?" Benjamin said with a smile.
Exhale from Reggie. "Yep. What if I can't break it?"
Benjamin moved towards the bars in his cell and stuck his ashy hand as far through as he could. "Give me your paw man." Reggie's hand was much bigger and he could only fit a few fingers through his own cell door, but the two men eventually touched fingertips. "Now listen to me. You gonna break it when the time is right. Fatass is prison staff, but he's like one of us. He's sympathetic, and he's dumb, and he'll help you."
"But what if he forge-"
"He ain't gonna. Now listen. You gotta know this routine Reggie. You gotta know it. When you get back out of the hole they gonna have me all strung up in the death house waiting to go. I ain't gonna be able to help you, Reggie, so it's up to you to know how this works and to understand how powerful it is. You ain't gonna suffer in there, Reggie, and I ain't gonna suffer on the table either, but once I'm gone it's up to you to spread the word about how this works and keep it out of the hands of those that are trying to make our lives painful while we in hea'. Now, now don't write it down ... and don't tell no one that you can't trust. Treat this like your baby, man. It's your baby, and ain't a goddamn person gonna take it from you and hurt it. And spread the word. Get it out there to the people that need help. Help them with their suffering, Reggie. And when the time comes, help yourself, okay? Put yourself down and stay down, and find someone in here like us who you can trust with the last breaker word, just in case they grant you clemecy or something. Don't leave yourself stranded and don't-"
Reggie squeezed Benjamin's frail fingertips and sobbed. "Bennie, I want you to know my word."
"No!" Bennie whispered. "No, there ain't no reason to do that. Fatass should be the only person-"
"Apple. There. It's apple. I just wanted you to know Bennie, cuz it feels good for me to let you know I believe in this. I believe in this and I believe in you."
Benjamin smiled, a decade's worth of freeze-dried coffee stained on his front teeth. "Okay, Reggie. I love you man. Now for mine. Just remember it. Don't write it down. You can do it."
Reggie clenched his fists in concentration, as if he were preparing himself for a basketball game. He had a hard time remembering things.
"Your my best big friend. So who's my best little friend?"
Reggie exhaled and relaxed his fists. This would be an easy one. He smiled. "Aw, yeah. Thanks Bennie. I know that. It's bluebird."
Benjamin pushed his forehead hard against the cell bars and let out another coffee-stained smile. Reggie did the same. They both wanted to get a good look at each other. From their view they could each barely make out the tops of their skulls and one eye, but that was enough to make them happy. It would be the last time the two men would ever see each other.
Less than thirty seconds later, Guard McCovey took Reggie out of his cell and brought him to the hole.
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The Huntsville death house, also known as the Walls Unit, is a whole lot smaller than one would expect it to be. Since its inception, there hasn't been a single execution that hasn't sold out. Michael Dunne had been reporting executions for the Huntsville Item for the last seven and a half years, so it was nothing new to him. The routine was always the same - check in, get searched, get lectured about the process, sit in the cramped room on the wooden folding chairs, and wait. Sometimes the prison got it right, sometimes they put the needle in wrong, sometimes they couldn't find a vein if the guy was a druggie or underweight, sometimes they all packed in there and the prisoner got a last minute pardon right before the mystery executioner hit the first button. Mike saw the executions that went as planned, the eyes of the condemned rolling back into eternity as they slipped away peacefully into heaven or hell or whatever you chose to believe. Other times he saw death in its worst forms. A convulsing prisoner bleeding from every orifice, paralyzed by the chemicals and unable to cry out. A needle inserted improperly, causing the prisoner's arm to swell up and burst during the procedure. Other botches too gruesome and pitiful to explain.
Mike Dunne had seen pretty much everything inside the Walls Unit. But he had no idea he was about to witness history with the execution of Benjamin James Connor.
Connor was tried and convicted for the rape and murder of 11-year-old Katrina Watts Turner of Maverick County. In Texas, a prosecutor can seek the death penalty if the victim was a minor or if the victim had been sexually assaulted before death. Both had been done in this case, so when Connor was convicted it was a no-brainer for the jury to recommend death for the killing. The sheer gruesomeness of the crime itself would have persuaded the jury to vote death regardless - Katrina was chopped up into pieces after her murder and then shipped FedEx to several politicians in Texas, including the governor and the attorney general. When Connor was caught there was so much hatred behind the crime it was a miracle that he didn't get lynched before he made it to trial. Connor's trial was typical in nature for one in Texas. He was poor and black, he had no money for a good lawyer, and while there was no solid DNA evidence connecting him to the victim, he had no alibi for the night of the murder. The smoking gun, according to the prosecution, was a partial fingerprint of his found on one of the boxes used to mail Katrina's chopped up body. Connor repeatedly told his court-appointed attorney that his job at the time was to fold boxes in FedEx offices and that's how his fingerprint ended up on one of them, but the naive laywer didn't care and never brought it up at trial. It took the jury less than two hours to convict Connor, and he was sentenced to death the following week. The entire state of Texas let out a sigh of relief upon hearing this, but Connor continued to profess his innocence for eleven years, right up to the moment of his last statement, which was in written form and sitting on each wooden folding chair in the death house.
At 7:01 p.m. on September 22, 2004, the curtain to the Walls Unit death chamber was opened. Lying on the gurney, only eighteen inches from the glass, was Benjamin James Connor. He was dressed in a white T-shirt, khaki pants, and slippers. He was wrapped from his chest to his ankles in a white sheet. The intravenous line could be seen snaking up the right side of his pants. Mike knew that before the execution an untrained guard had slashed open Connor's leg, cut through muscle and fat tissue, grabbed a hold of a live vein and stuck the needle directly into the vein. The procedure was called "venous cut-down," and it was something taught to paramedics and hospital workers who had to find veins right away, but it was also widely used in the prison systems to insert the death needle.
Connor didn't react when the curtain opened. His glassy stare remained fixed on the ceiling. Mike figured that Connor received a heavy dose of sedatives shortly before preparation and that Connor, being as old as he was, probably couldn't handle them. A red phone sat on a table behind the gurney, and other than that there was nothing in the room. The witnesses squirmed in their seats in anticipation of the event. Most of them never saw a man actually die in front of them before, so they didn't know what to expect. Mike wasn't about to ruin the surprise, but most likely it would go the way it always went - quietly, efficiently, and without fanfare. The whole process was so septic that it almost seemed like a trick when it was all over. Most victims' families, when questioned after the execution, complained that the prisoner got the easy way out for his crimes. Mike always nodded his head politely when he fielded these answers, but he knew better. The chemicals that would be coursing through Connor's veins would be anything but pleasant. They'd knock him out with the first dose of stuff, but he'd most likely wake up in the middle of the whole thing, completely paralyzed and unable to communicate the sheer minutes of agony his body would be experiencing from the second and third doses.
The warden came in wearing a gray suit and red tie that matched the color of the phone on the table behind Connor. He picked up that phone, spoke a few words to the governor, and then hung up. He then left the room and returned with a small microphone, which he spoke into. The voice boomed through the crappy P.A. system in the witness chamber. A few witnesses covered their ears and coughed from the feedback.
"Inmate Connor, would you like to make a last statement?" The microphone shifted to just over Connor's mouth. Only the soft sound of his breath came through the P.A. Chills went up Mike's spine and he frowned. Something wasn't right.
The warden squinted and left the room. A split second later he came back with an Oriental man wearing a doctor's smock. They chatted behind the glass, the words not making it to the witnesses. The Oriental man looked concerned, and the warden's stone countenance shifted from resolute to puzzled. Yep, something wasn't right. In all the years Mike had ever reported on executions, he never saw anyone other than the condemned and the warden in the death chamber. Who was the Oriental man? Why was he in the death chamber? What was so important about this man who was about to die in a matter of mere minutes? Normally, execution notices would be buried in the second half of the local section of the Item, but not this one. No, Mike was going to insist putting it on page one, even if it got put below the fold. Something strange was going on here.
Connor continued to stare at the ceiling. Was he dead already? There was no way to know. All the medical equipment hooked up to Connor was out of view.
The Oriental man left the chamber. The warden ran his hands through his hair and then cleared his throat. Mike knew that the clearing of the throat was the signal to begin the execution, but he had never seen the warden run his hands through his hair. Ever. The man was unfallable in any situation. Something was wrong. Questions would have to be asked. Am I a big enough gun to call the questions to this man? Mike thought. He would probably have to call in backup. Something went very wrong here. Something didn't go the warden's way. What does he know? Who was the Oriental gentleman? Can you say Front Page?
Connor experienced all three chemicals in his veins in six minutes. He didn't so much as fidget the entire time. His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling throughout the procedure. At 7:11 p.m., the warden appeared in the death chamber with the microphone. He cleared his throat again, and spoke. "Physician Wang reports the time of death at seven o'seven P.M. Central Daylight Time, September twenty-second, year twenty oh four." Then he left. Mike was the first person to leave the death house. He grabbed his stuff from the front desk, walked outside and powered up his cell phone. The first call went to his secretary Ann, who was always in the office.
"Ann, do a PhysAdopt search in the state of Texas for a Dr. Wang." PhysAdopt was the doctor database used in Texas to keep tabs of doctors practicing in the state. Every Texas physician had to subscribe. Even the ones who pronounced condemned prisoners dead.
Mike heard typing on the other end. He was sweating bullets through his tweed blazer. A pause, and then a voice in the earpiece: "One Dr. Wang in Texas. Wheeler County. He's a dentist."
Mike's heart jumped in his throat. There was no Dr. Wang. Who had pronounced Connor dead? Who the hell was that Oriental man in the death chamber?
"Thanks Ann." He pressed end on the flip phone, closed it, and took a deep breath. Then he opened the phone again and made another call. This time it was to the editor of the New York Times.
***************************************************************
Reggie leaned his head on the cinder wall and stared out of his little window. It was seven fifteen, and the protesters hadn't let out a cheer, which meant that Bennie was dead. There would be no clemency, and there was none expected, but the finality of it all had just started to sink in. No more friend, no more neighbor, no more confidant. Reggie only hoped that Bennie's plan had worked as flawlessly as his did while he was in the hole. Fatass had come through. Good old Fatass. White guy, but Reggie was quickly learning that white did not mean bad. There were a lot of good white guys in prison, and it was a shame that Reggie hadn't taken the time to find all the good white guys out of prison. That was okay. It was water over the dam, and Reggie was not about to waste time worrying about all the bad things he did to all the good white guys out there. He had more important things to worry about.
He had to spread the word, regardless of how dumb he was.
It was so simple, and Reggie was excited, but he had to be careful. He wondered if anyone noticed something peculiar about the execution of Benjamin James Connor. It wasn't Bennie's technique, and he didn't create it either. It had been passed down, from the notorious Timothy McVeigh, to the flamboyant David Paul Hammer, to old Bennie. When Bennie first moved from Federal Death Row to Huntsville, that's all he wanted to talk about. "Hey! Hey! You over dare! I gotta secret!" the old man would whisper over to Reggie's cell. "Shut the fuck up!" was all Reggie kept saying, and he almost requested relocation away from the old windbag, but instead Reggie became keeper of the key. Reggie kept thinking about Timothy McVeigh and the reports of his death. Stone cold face. There were hundreds of witnesses to that execution, and everyone thought McVeigh was just being his defiant evil self. Then David Paul Hammer did the same thing in June, and only Bennie and Reggie noticed when the news reports came through to the media. Bennie had been the third. Had it gone as planned? Nothing over the news wires yet, and Bennie's death wouldn't make the nationals, but maybe something would come through on the eleven o'clock locals. Something to tell Reggie that things went as planned. He just wanted to know that Bennie didn't suffer. Reggie knew that if it went right Bennie wouldn't have suffered. To Reggie, it felt like time had been put on pause in that solitary cell. Seven days had gone by in a blink of an eye. The technique worked. When he awoke, Fatass had been staring him down, a curious look on his chubby face. "Damn Reg," he said, "Look like you been staring at God or something." And he left it at that, but the curious look persisted. Reggie knew why. Fatass wanted to know. He wanted to know what was going on. Someday he would soon find out. Reggie had plans beyond the scope of what Bennie and Tim and David Paul had planned. The technique would spread far beyond the walls of death houses. It would be everywhere. It would be unstoppable. All the prisoners of the world would know how to use it. Reggie would be a hero. Bennie and David and Tim would be gods in the eyes of sufferers everywhere.
The bluebird appeared out of nowhere, and it startled Reggie away from the wall. Never before had the bluebird come to Reggie's window. It had always stopped at Bennie's. Now it was his friend. Reggie stared at it, right in its eyes. He could have sworn he saw the same squint in those eyes that Bennie used to give him when he was happy. It was all Reggie could do to keep from breaking down in tears.
Reggie sighed and started to peel his orange. Last orange I'm gonna see in a while, he thought to himself. If Bennie's execution went as planned, Warden would have all of Pod X knawing on food loaf by morning.
***************************************************************
NEW YORK TIMES
OCTOBER 16, 2005
FRONT PAGE
17TH GOES TO DEATH ROW UNDER THE SPELL
Still No Explanation on How to Break the Hypnosis
By Mike Dunne (Times Senior Staff Writer)
ATMORE, ALABAMA - "It's happened again." That's how the warden opened the post-execution press conference after Vladimir Markov was put to death at the execution house in Alabama. In essence, that's all he needed to say.
Markov became the seventeenth death row inmate in the United States to be executed under what prison officials have dubbed "the spell." Even under intense up-to-the-second supervision, Markov managed to hypnotize himself so that no method of outside communication could break through.
Thousands of researchers, scientists, and hypnotism experts have been brought in to explain how the phenomenon works, but to no avail. They are also trying to figure out how death row inmates in twelve separate states have managed to learn the technique while at the same time keeping it out of the hands of those outside the walls.
The New York Times, in conjunction with the Huntsville Item of Huntsville, Texas, reported last September of what many believe to be the first occurance of The Spell at the Walls Unit death row facility in Texas. Benajmin James Connor was executed among speculation that ...
***************************************************************
"I'm going to make this crystal fucking clear," the Warden had said standing out in the yard on that mercilessly cold day in December. "The next fucking prisoner that we find under one of these quote-unquote spells, whether it be in the hole, or in the yard, on the john, or in your fucking food tray, we here at the Red Onion Virginia State Penitentiary are going to beat the fucking spell right out of you until you wake up. Understood?"
Now it was over, and George was dead and it was all his fault. George told him what to do but he didn't listen. He knew the password and he was supposed to holler it through the gate and into the hallway, but he couldn't. He just couldn't. He didn't know why, but he couldn't let them know an inkling about what he had learned. He heard the warden open the gate and say, "Wake up right now George." That was his cue, but now that he knew the technique he didn't want to be the one to break the secret. So he kept his mouth shut. "Beat him," was all he heard the Warden say, and they beat George for an hour and a half. They beat the life right out of him. George was dead. No watching the Super Bowl with George on Sunday. No more playing cards with George. No more talking about escaping the Onion with George. This place was hell, and the fire was only getting hotter, even as the cells became colder with the winter breeze.
They came in his cell a day after George died. They were dressed in suits. Right off the bat he knew they were far too intelligent looking to be part of the Red Onion. Only goons worked at the Onion. It had the reputation of being the hardest time you could do in the United States, and rightfully so. There wasn't a place he wouldn't rather be right now. This place was good for nothing but suffering.
"Mr. Delabaz, we want to ask you a few questions. Come with us." Then an Onion guard pulled him out of his bunk, handcuffed him, and pushed him in the right directions towards the front of the prison. Delabaz had never been in the front of the prison because cons weren't allowed there. Only normal people worked and walked through the front. Delabaz knew why he was going there.
They brought him to an interrogation room, sat him down, unhandcuffed him and handed him a bottle of water. He opened it and took a sip. It was the best tasting water he had had in a decade. He smiled, then stared at the two intelligent men in front of him waiting to ask him questions. There were no goons in the room, but Delabaz knew there was one peering through the one-way glass, more than ready to break his neck if he made a move for the men in suits. That wasn't going to be his plan. No, they would need more than goons and men in suits to help them here.
The suit on the right spoke first. "Mr. Delabaz, please tell us everything you know about George Cooley."
Delabaz smiled. "He was a good man. He was innocent of his crime. He was beaten to death by the goons in this shithole."
The suit on the left wrote something down on his legal pad, then he looked up at Delabaz. "Mr. Delabaz, we are prepared to grant you clemency for your information about the hypnotism technique used by-"
Delabaz extended his palms to the suits. "The Lord is my shepherd," he said, then he snapped his fingers and fell backwards in his chair.
The suits jumped up out of their chairs, and a half dozen goons rushed in and started beating Delabaz with batons. "STOP IT! STOP IT GODDAMNIT" the warden screamed behind them, and they did. There was a startling hush in the room. "Goddamnit, you fucking morons! Agent Carter, Agent Lewis, I apologize. I fear this man has put himself under the spell."
Delabaz never awoke from the spell. There wasn't a thing that anyone on earth could do to wake him up because Delabaz made sure there hadn't been a password. The Central Intelligence Agency studied Delabaz for as long as they could keep him alive with intravenous injections, then took him off the IV and let him die when it was assumed that they would never learn what they needed to know.
***************************************************************
"I don't know if I can do it Reggie." It was Fatass, and he was crying.
"You can do it, man, you can do it." Reggie handed Bennie's journals back to Fatass through the cell door. Fatass put them inside the back of his shirt. He was so fat that no one would notice the bulge back there.
"Reggie," Fatass mumbled, fighting back tears, "am I guilty of anything?"
A big smile blossomed across Reggie's face. "Hell no, you ain't guilty of shit. You just a fat ass white guard with a big ass human heart. You the reason all this happening all over the country. You're special man, you're special."
Reggie put a hand through the cell door and onto Fatass's shoulder. "Look, if it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have ever known how to master the spell, and all those prisoners out there all over the country wouldn't have been able to avoid all that suffering. You helped us man. You helped me, and you helped all the others out there, and you're helping all us in here. You're part of the reason all these guys ain't suffering. You're a legend."
Fatass sniffled. "You won't rat me out, will you?"
Reggie laughed at the comment. "Hell, no, Fatass, never." The two were friendly enough that Reggie could call him Fatass without getting in trouble.
Fatass let out a big breath and a smile. "Okay, Reggie, I'll do what you said."
"Good. Just burn them somewhere away from here."
Fatass nodded. "I'll burn them in my fireplace. My FAKE fireplace, heh heh."
Reggie smirked. "Yeah, I'll take that fake fireplace right now any day over this fucking faulty ass radiator." It was December at Pod X, and the temperatures weren't even scraping thirty.
Fatass turned to go back to his post at the end of the Pod. "I love you Reggie. Thanks for making me feel special. Thanks for being a true friend."
"Man, anytime. Just promise me you'll lose weight by next year. Ya executin yourself with hot dogs and McDonald's."
"Reggie?" he said, "can I ask you a question?"
"Sure man, anything."
"Well ... " He paused and looked down at his shiny prison guard boots. "Will you let me be your keeper?"
Reggie smiled. Somewhere in his eyes, a tear welled up. "Sure man, come here."
Fatass pushed his ear against the metal bars. Reggie put his lips right next to the guard's ear and whispered the password.
It would never be uttered. Seventy-two hours later, Reggie Fox was executed at the Walls Unit for the armed robbery and murder of two Armenian gas station attendants in July of 1997. He was the twenty-ninth prisoner in the United States to go to the death chamber under the spell.
***************************************************************
The president called the press conference only fourteen days before Election Tuesday. It was rare that the president call a press conference at all, much less a press conference a fortnight before the country decided on his fate. But it had to be done. He had to get it out in the open.
The opening speech lasted two minutes and was more evasive than informative. It talked briefly about the phenomenon known as "The Spell," how the federal government was investigating the spell, how they couldn't reveal the results of their ongoing investigation at that point, and how the United States was doing whatever it could to keep the country safe from crime and to keep the criminals at bay both in and out of prisons.
"The floor is open to questions," the president announced at the end of his speech. The press group exploded in hands and beckons.
He pointed to Mike. "Okay, Mike."
Mike stood up. He was wearing an expensive blue suit, and his normally long hair was trimmed. "Thank you, Mister President. Michael Dunne, New York Times. There have been rumors that the advent of The Spell has caused several states as well as the federal government to reconsider the way criminals are punished. Is this true?"
The president was quick to respond. "Not true. We have no real reason to change the way we're doing things at either the state or the federal level. Criminals are criminals, regardless of whether or not they hypnotize themselves. They made the decision to commit a crime and under this system this is how they pay the price. There's no substance behind that rumor."
Mike was quick to snap back. "Mr. President, is it true, however, that there has been an increase in pressure on your administration to stop punishing hypnotized criminals because some think this is cruel and unusual punishment, for example, the beating of George Cooley in Virgina? Also, does it concern you that there are criminals protesting the death penalty on your very own gurneys by sending themselves to the death chamber under the spell? I mean, there are people out there that think the process of execution is cruel and unusual and that these criminals have found a way to avoid the suffering associated with that punishment. Can you tell us how you're going to address this issue?"
The president was quickly annoyed. I wanted to get Mike out of the way early, but CHRIST, he thought.
"Mike, I'm not really sure what you're trying to say here. These criminals, the ones you talk about on the gurney, are convicted criminals." Emphasis on the last two words. "By committing the crimes they did they chose their fates. In this country the death penalty is accepted by the democracy. The people of the United States choose their government, and they have chosen the death penalty regardless of whether or not the criminals are executed under hypnosis. Lethal injection is humane. It's a humane form of punishment. It's neither cruel nor unusual."
Mike jumped in, and the rest of the field let him go. "Mr. President, would you stand by that comment even if the people chose against capital punishment and even if it cost you and your party the upcoming election?"
The president paused, and then said. "I've already spoken my answer. Next ... okay Linda."
"Thank you, Mr. President. Linda Mohr, Washington Times. Let's put George Cooley aside right now. How do you intend to address the beatings of other prisoners by prison guards in several state penitentiaries for refusing to cooperate when they put themselves under this hypnotic technique called The Spell?"
The president looked down at the podium and sighed. It was going to be a long night.
***************************************************************
They met in a bar in D.C., two strangers that, through correspondence, had become incredibly good friends. Mike was nervous as he sat down and ordered his first Crown Royal on the rocks. He had no idea what to expect.
A hand on the back of his tweed blazer. "Excuse me, is this seat taken?" Mike turned around to a well-built well-dressed man in his early forties, tan and with a touch of gray forming on his temples. It was Seamus.
"Oh my God, how are you?" was all Mike could manage, and then he embraced the man for what seemed like a full minute.
Seamus ordered a drink and then they chatted, first about the shitty weather and then about the World Series. The Washington Expos were one game away from clinching the title. Thank God the game was in Boston tonight, or it would have been called off on account of snow. It was twenty degrees warmer up there.
"Do you think they'll really announce it tonight?" Seamus said, sweat forming on his palms.
"As God as my witness, I saw the press release go out at three today. It's coming. The country is going to be shocked out of its skull." He looked at Seamus with a gleam in his eye. "We might have a revolution here, you know."
Seamus laughed. "Mike, if they don't revolt about that, they'll revolt up in Boston if the Sox don't win tonight. One way or the other, people're going to find an excuse to revolt."
Mike smiled as he looked the man over. He couldn't have imagined what Seamus went through over the past five years. All he read about Seamus seemed to make no sense. He couldn't imagine how this man was once an overweight, depressed, frightened prison guard that kept a big secret under wraps. It was rumored that Reggie Fox, executed prisoner in Texas, had called him Fatass when he worked in Pod X at Huntsville. Fatass, and here he is looking marvelous and holding one big story in his brain and dying to spew it all out. I'll be happy to take that off your shoulders, Mike thought. Somewhere at the end of the bar, an attractive young woman was giving Seamus the eye.
"Do you got the book, Seamus?"
He sighed and then grinned, a touch of his former Southern accent creeping through his voice. "You bet I do. Here you go."
He gave Benjamin James Connor's journal to Mike. Years ago Seamus had tried to burn it, but he knew, he just knew, that someday it would be valuable to someone.
Mike drew in a breath as he read the cover. "Bennie's Journal," it read in blue ball point ink. He opened to page one and skimmed the first entry. Nothing on The Spell there. Just something about towels and a bluebird. He would have a wonderful time reading all the entries tonight. That was for then. Now was the time for baseball and whiskey.
"Seamus," he said as he put his arm around the man, "if I lived in Massachusetts I would be the first person in line to vote for you for senator."
Seamus smiled as the first pitch of Game 6 of the 2010 World Series went across the plate for a strike. "Thanks Mike. Here's to a long friendship." They toasted and then turned their attention back to the game. A long wind-up, and then strike two as the leadoff hitter whiffed hard at a breaking ball.
***************************************************************
One hour and forty-seven minutes later, in the middle of the sixth inning, all major networks cut to the White House, where the president of the United States, the same one that Mike had interviewed just over two years ago, made a sudden and spectacular announcement. The United States of America had officially become the ninety-seventh country on Earth to abolish the death penalty at all levels, state and federal, as a form of capital punishment. Seventy-nine minutes later, Boston won Game 6 of the World Series on a three-run shot to right, sending the circus back to Washington. No one in America rioted over either event.
In the next twelve months, ten more countries would follow suit and also abolish the death penalty as a form of punishment.
In the year 2021, the United Arab Emirates became the last sovereign nation on Earth to cease the execution of human beings.
Entry 1:
Anjie
bargled
bart
beer-turtle
catscradle
Chronic
Circe
distressedjester
EatMeCompletely
fell-8-me
fionavar
gascs
godking
Heimdallsman
JohnGalt
loki
Melany
Method
Mr_Insanity
mystiamoon
Phinch
polyamorousaj
Pringles4eva
quack
Razor
Scott_James
Titinita
ugaly
vildy
WillZone
YELLOW-MAN
youarsoghey
29 eligible votes (32 total) *
Entry 2:
Ainkara
antluvdog
AshK
Awko
Bigmike
coley
conrad
Deisangua
DraconianKing
engine13
firefly
Genko
Herpes
humor_me
iamhewhoisnot
iddqd
JMG114
Judoka
Kaelic
Loren1
lucid
Magicaddict
Magno
Nicole3
ohlookasquirrel
potatomanjack
satchel
SpikeGoddess
T.chow
The_taste_of_Monkeys
transcendent
Yes
26 eligible votes (32 total) *
* Eligible votes are those made by users who had either (A) posted 3+ messages OR (B) written 100+ [lowered from 750+] reviews as of the beginning of the UberMadness! competition.
User Reviews
Submitted by shadow (user info) at 2004-04-21 15:51:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
entry one dammit!
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-21 09:59:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh, and I don't think sex is "blech" necessarily. Just certain amounts of vulgarity turn me off I guess. Most everyone else liked it. Sex is good in a story for me if it's tastefully written. It won't turn me off if the descriptive words are on the softcore porn side instead of the hardcore.
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-21 09:50:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Well sci-fi is my favorite as I have stated many times. Seriously though, I really loved it. People were IM-ing me while I was reading it and I was shushing them. Then I made them come read it and vote. They were not going to cause of length, but I told them they had to read these entries. I didn't tell them who to vote for. Their votes actually counted too. They both voted for you as well and we had a nice little chat about your posts awesomness last night. You won by 3, had it been 2 I'd be saying you owed me some cookies. heh.
I do want to read a longer version if you ever write one.
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-04-21 09:40:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
mysti -
I'm more of a sci-fi/deeper meaning kind of writer when I am being serious, that bank-robbery-hostage story was me experimenting. I feel like the erotic should be able to be a part of works of fiction, but I can't figure out how to do it... I do find it sad that violence in stories is practically expected, while sex is "blech"
Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2004-04-21 07:27:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Congrats, Razor. I can't wait to read the full version.
On to the Sour 16 for me!
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-21 04:49:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow, how ironic it is to find out that the author of my new all time favorite ubermadness entry is also the author of the post that turned me off in the last round. ......heh, go figure. Excellent work Razor this was truly a masterpiece. I would love to read the longer version if you write one.
Submitted by Nicole3 (user info) at 2004-04-21 04:32:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I figured it was you Razor. How interesting that you posted this about the same time I recommended that book. Hmmmm. Of course I'm kidding, but I will send it back with Jon. As I was reading your post I found it incredibly predictable, only because of that, though as they are freakishly similar.
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-04-21 01:17:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Rizzo, for the record, you're the man.
Good luck through the rest of the tourney, and I wish we never had to go up against each other.
Submitted by AlwaysAnEagle (user info) at 2004-04-21 00:10:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
God damn it, these were both so freakin' good.
Submitted by Kaelic (user info) at 2004-04-20 23:47:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Screw it, and screw you.
Submitted by bart (user info) at 2004-04-20 23:39:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2004-04-20 23:36:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Melany (user info) at 2004-04-20 23:28:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh my God.
Submitted by Author Of Post One at 2004-04-20 23:06:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Did anyone pick up on the binary references in my post at all?
Submitted by Genko (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:42:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:39:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Awesome. Simply awesome.
Submitted by fionavar (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:35:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:27:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Oh and I just noticed I typed WFT instead of WTF.....see what happens when I get excited over something I've just read.
Submitted by Author of Post Two at 2004-04-20 22:21:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I better get two votes quick or my ass is grass!
This round has just been ... it's been ....
I'm speechless.
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:19:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I can't stress enough how good both of these were .....practically orgasmic...for short stories anyway.
Submitted by Author Of Post One at 2004-04-20 22:16:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Man, this round has cost me the edges of all of my fingernails.
I don't even know what to say - I frickin' LOVE your story.
Let's get married.
Submitted by YELLOW-MAN (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:16:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
im just a YELLOW-FAN.
Submitted by JohnGalt (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:12:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
My keyboard is broken, but I can't not comment on these. So, I'm using copy/paste to say. Plus fucking 2! That doesn't cover it. Plus fucking infinity! Do I really have to pick just one? This is like asking an ambidextrous man which arm he'd rather lose. By the way, this review took 10 minutes.
Submitted by Author of Post Two at 2004-04-20 22:08:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Know what I think is amazing, Author Of Post #1? You wrote that story with twenty minutes to spare, you probably didn't even edit it, and you ended up leaving half the story out altogether.
I worked a full day on my story and it had at least four revisions.
And we're tied.
It scares me ... no, it flat out FRIGHTENS me to think of how bad you could have trounced me had you had adequate time to prepare. You might have pitched a shutout!
Great work. This has by far been the most fun round of the competition for me.
Submitted by mystiamoon (user info) at 2004-04-20 22:07:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
WFT? I CAN'T BELIEVE I READ ALL THAT!
Sorry I couldn't resist.
Anyway here is my non counting vote and opinion.
AWESOME & AWESOME
Author 1 can I have your babies?
If author 1 was Spike or Loki then I find myself bi-curious for the first time.
Submitted by distressedjester (user info) at 2004-04-20 21:02:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
just read number two fully. it was a damn original concept and i loved it. one just appealed more
to my tastes.
Submitted by Pringles4eva (user info) at 2004-04-20 21:01:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
entry one = the shiznit
Submitted by distressedjester (user info) at 2004-04-20 20:27:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
wow. entry one was great, but it lacked something at the end..not sure what though.
and then 2 started with some towel shit. that kinda turned me away.
Submitted by Magno (user info) at 2004-04-20 19:33:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by engine13 (user info) at 2004-04-20 18:56:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. These were both really good.
Submitted by Nicole3 (user info) at 2004-04-20 18:31:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
oh, god, I'm vascillating on this one. Very tough.
Submitted by Nicole3 (user info) at 2004-04-20 18:21:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
That was a tough one. I would like to say that I may have been a little prejudiced against the first one as I have just finished reading an entire book with a plot that in many ways parallels that story (Oryx and Crake by Margaret Atwood). The second one was also very good, though it was a little too stereotypical and trite at times (Texas death penalty, the horrors of lethal injection, etc.)
Submitted by Yes (user info) at 2004-04-20 17:40:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
holy shit. wow... tough choice...
Submitted by Author Of Post One at 2004-04-20 17:20:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Thank you for the criticism.
You're right - the last line was a big neon sign. The last 10% of the post will be the last 50% of the post when I rewrite it... the story was supposed to be more than anything else about the different experiments René tried en route to concluding the task was impossible.
Basically, I had ten minutes left to finish the post before the midnight deadline, and was writing with great fury to get to the end.
I want to ask that question subtly, but did not have the time.
Submitted by transcendent (user info) at 2004-04-20 16:58:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow.. one of these has to LOSE ?!
Jesus..
They're both great. But, I vote #2.. the last line of #1 was like a giant neon sign while the rest of the story was very subtle.
Damn. Great work, both of you.
Submitted by quack (user info) at 2004-04-20 16:56:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
after reading the first post, which was long but really interesting, the second one couldn't hold my attention and captivate me.
Submitted by Author of Post One at 2004-04-20 16:51:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow... i feel like I'm standing on the middle of a seesaw with two really aggressive kids on the end.
Submitted by bargled (user info) at 2004-04-20 16:48:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Scott_James (user info) at 2004-04-20 15:54:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ohlookasquirrel (user info) at 2004-04-20 15:34:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
WHY IS THIS SO HARD?!?!?!
Submitted by Loren1 (user info) at 2004-04-20 15:32:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Both really great.
Although...
Please writers, you're wonderful, but I can't stress it enough, bigger is NOT always better...
what?
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2004-04-20 15:31:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Wow on both.
Submitted by Author of Post Two at 2004-04-20 15:10:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Hats off to you as well, Author of Post One. Regardless of who wins, this match will go down as the most ferocious battle in the first ever Uber Madness!
Submitted by gascs (user info) at 2004-04-20 15:04:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both of these were really good, BUT WAY TOO FRIGGIN' LONG.
Entry 1 wins by a nose, ONLY because I find it really hard to believe that there's not a SINGLE Dr. Wang in the entire state of Texas (that's not really the only reason, but it does seem that you could have easily picked a more obscure name, #2).
Submitted by Author Of Post One at 2004-04-20 14:49:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No matter how the voting turns out here, this was a killer fucking matchup.
Great job Author Two - that is the definition of bringing your A-Game.
Submitted by iamhewhoisnot (user info) at 2004-04-20 14:43:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
i didnt get the second one thus my self hatred caused me to hate the post but i cant hate it because it was so good...damn i feel bad not voting for the both
damn...
never mind im voting for two because its left me questioning myself, the story itself, and other issues brought up in the post...thats damn good writing
well done...
btw, the first one was great in concept, content, and execution. if it hadnt gone up against number two.. who knows...the world
Submitted by Author of Post 2 at 2004-04-20 13:53:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
In reality, there really is no logical explanation for "The Spell" taking down the death penalty. However, the thought alone of any prisoner, much less death row prisoners, taking complete control of their situation behind bars makes for (what I feel) great controversy. And sometimes, a little controversy is all it takes to bring down a pillar of justice ... or a President almost. Just look at Clinton - almost kicked out of office over a cigar!
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2004-04-20 13:44:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by AshK (user info) at 2004-04-20 13:43:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy Crap!!! I thought these were both AMAZING! Beautifully written stories on both counts. Number 2 drew me in a little more, DAMN little. The best pair of stories in the competition to date.
Submitted by godking (user info) at 2004-04-20 13:25:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I'm offering a second +2 so both authors can have one.
GK
Submitted by godking (user info) at 2004-04-20 13:19:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I've lurked on this site for many months, and I must say that these are two of the finest entries I've ever read. In the end, I must vote for #1 because the events of #2 do not reasonably lead to the conclusion, ie I see no reason at all why the "spell" would lead to anyone not wanting the death penalty for a serious criminal. However, this doesn't diminish the fact that both were so good, only a small technicality made it possible to decide. I'm sorry anyone has to lose this match.
GK
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-04-20 13:14:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#2 was an excellent post, but what irked me about #2 is the possiblity of the situation. The prisoners are self hipnotizing. so what? you have a bunch of zoned out prisoners. I don't think that would change anything. A prisoner acts out, is about to get punished, and zones out. a zoned out prisoner is a good prisoner.
seriously i don't get how it would end the death penalty.
Submitted by lucid (user info) at 2004-04-20 13:06:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by fell-8-me (user info) at 2004-04-20 12:57:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Nice work Razor.
Submitted by Ainkara (user info) at 2004-04-20 12:50:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Oh... wow...
These were both soo good. I think I'd almost rather sacrifice my first born than choose between these.
In the end, I had to go with number 2, because it made me cry at the end.
Oh dammit... I want to vote for both!!
I'm sorry.
Submitted by Heimdallsman (user info) at 2004-04-20 12:37:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both excellent, but I gotta give my vote to #1. Never enough science fiction around here.
--HeimdallsMan
Submitted by potatomanjack (user info) at 2004-04-20 12:26:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I really liked #2
Submitted by vildy (user info) at 2004-04-20 11:47:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Anjie (user info) at 2004-04-20 11:36:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both well done..... thank you writers!
Submitted by EatMeCompletely (user info) at 2004-04-20 11:35:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by catscradle (user info) at 2004-04-20 10:09:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Damn!
Submitted by T.chow (user info) at 2004-04-20 10:08:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
wow, both awesome
i thought i was going to vote #1 for sure until i read #2
i guess what edged it out in my mind was that it was a little too asimov.
#2 was really original
Submitted by Bigmike (user info) at 2004-04-20 09:41:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Number 2, I bow down to your master story telling.
I am simply not worthy. :)
Great job to both these writers. Number 2 smoked number one.
After I read number one I thought, "Hmmm that's really pretty good". After number two I thought, "Holy crap, what a great story".
Thank you both for giving me a really enjoyable 25 minutes or so of reading.
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2004-04-20 09:22:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
This was tough, but I kind of got a Dune Machine War vibe off of the first one.
Submitted by Judoka (user info) at 2004-04-20 09:20:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by WillZone (user info) at 2004-04-20 09:11:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Awko (user info) at 2004-04-20 08:39:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Titinita (user info) at 2004-04-20 08:17:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Deisangua (user info) at 2004-04-20 07:46:04 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2004-04-20 07:44:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
#1 is a +2 post, but #2 is the first thing I have read here for which I would have happily paid money for the privelege. Thank you for writing it.
Submitted by Chronic (user info) at 2004-04-20 07:43:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow. Two excellent posts. Entry 1 was the best entry in Ubermadness so far in my opinion, and one of the best I have ever read on Ubersite period. It was very interesting throughout, and it was more than just a simple story. Entry was was similar, though it tended to ramble a little. Close contest from two excellent posts, but if I had to pick one, entry 1 takes it.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-04-20 07:41:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both absolutely brilliant. Some of the best writing I've seen on this site, in fact. Painfully close call. The only reason I'm voting this way is because #1 appeals to me more. It's just my kind of story.
Submitted by Circe (user info) at 2004-04-20 07:41:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These were both absolutely brilliant. Some of the best writing I've seen on this site, in fact. Painfully close call. The only reason I'm voting this way is because #1 appeals to me more. It's just my kind of story.
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2004-04-20 07:29:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by The_taste_of_Monkeys (user info) at 2004-04-20 06:50:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
these were long...too long
Submitted by beer-turtle (user info) at 2004-04-20 05:25:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#1 was more entertaining in my opinion. Less of a politcal message.
I have never seen the Movie the Green Mile, but for some reason though #2 reminded me of that.
-Turtle
Submitted by Herpes (user info) at 2004-04-20 03:31:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ugaly (user info) at 2004-04-20 03:20:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
These were both good.
2 was WAYYYY FREAKIN LONG, but was a good read. It pissed me off that you never said how exactly they did the "spell." Other than "The lord is my shepard, Clunk, thunk, damn, bash bash bash.
One was kind of weird. I liked the way that both of them kind of used a unique way to think about things.
Good job both of you
Submitted by Random Joe at 2004-04-20 02:57:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2004-04-20 02:16:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Hey you who didn't get to finish your story: if you do end up finishing it, I'd be happy to read it again in a full-length version. :)
Submitted by Author Of Post One at 2004-04-20 02:12:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I didn't have time to finish the story - I simply ran up against the clock and lost to it.
The last few bits of the story should be the last half of the story, and when I rewrite this for real, it will be quite a bit longer. I also didn't have a chance to edit at all.
My hat goes off to the author of post 2 - if you beat me here, I'm pulling for you to be the champion.
Submitted by conrad (user info) at 2004-04-20 02:11:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by SpikeGoddess (user info) at 2004-04-20 02:02:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These posts both deserve to win, but I had to go with Entry 2. I appriciate the ideas of Entry 1 (and I think I know who wrote it too) but Entry 2 just gripped me and wouldn't let me go. The death penalty is an issue that's close to my heart and you dealt with it very well in your post. It was a little long and could've used some trimming, but it still held my attention.
Good job to both of you.
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-04-20 01:42:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
forgot to vote.
heh heh
Submitted by Phinch (user info) at 2004-04-20 01:41:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Both excellent writting. #2 was a bit too drawn out, and #1 was quite very much awesome.
drink_ddt may not like the bible references.
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2004-04-20 01:15:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Okay, that really sucked.
Not either post, but having to choose.
I chose the second one, not really able to explain why.. maybe because parts of it remind me of Shawshank and the man who kept a bird in his pocket.
Very good writing, both of you. Wish you could both move on to the next round!
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2004-04-20 01:06:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
aaargh!! I'm torn! it's so obvious the two authors put a LOT of time and effort into each of these entries, and they are both really good.. I'm going to have to give it a lot of thought and come back later.
Submitted by Mr_Insanity (user info) at 2004-04-20 00:48:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2004-04-20 00:42:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Wow.
Submitted by humor_me (user info) at 2004-04-20 00:34:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
By the by, these were the bests posts of this round, in my opinion. Very lengthy but good quality. Now I'm beginning to see the goodness that some authors here can produce.
Submitted by humor_me (user info) at 2004-04-20 00:31:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by iddqd (user info) at 2004-04-20 00:29:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
both very much well worth reading. this is why the final 16 is about. im gonna have to pick up my shit if i make it through to the next round.
i voted for two. but i have some quereies: how is giving lethal injection to a prisoner who is catatonically hypnotised any more cruel or unusual than one who is alert and able to watch the chemical flood into his veins?
also, i had a little problem with the diray entires. bennies monologue was a bit inconsistent. you wrote him a (in my opinon) 'southern' accent, but his accent would skip out of that into a more 'educated' tone. dont be worried about misspelling words to make the dialogue better. (though tips on dialogue are a bit rich comnig from me).
very very good writing.
Submitted by star_splinter <star_splinter.at.yahoo.com> at 2004-04-20 00:25:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Long but excellent.
Submitted by satchel (user info) at 2004-04-20 00:02:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by antluvdog (user info) at 2004-04-19 23:49:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Wow!
Submitted by catscradle (user info) at 2004-04-19 23:46:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Fuck.. I watched the Breakfast Club in the time it took to read this.
Submitted by DraconianKing (user info) at 2004-04-19 23:45:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 2 had the word "towel" in it. I'm voting for that.