Have You Been This Far? (1697 hits)
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Entry 1
June 4th, 1944 -- Arromanches, FrancePeter Moen, radio operator for a covert group of Free French members, worked under the umbrella of the American Office of Strategic Services (OSS). He worked with the Americans, but he was still a son of his own country. And the knowledge he had just obtained meant the world to him.
"La lune est pleine d'éléphants verts."
He had sat in the cellar with his tiny crystal radio every night for the past 4 months, listening for specific sets of words during the 9:15 radio broadcast. So when he finally heard those particular words, he knew this moment would be etched into his memory for the rest of his life. In less than 72 hours, as the code said, the invasion of Europe and the Allied liberation of the continent would begin.
------
It seemed like only yesterday, though, that he had first met the older man, Alain, who had given him the list of words to memorize. What he thought had been a chance meeting in the street in front of the school Peter taught at, was actually a planned contact, after weeks of surveillance.
As teacher at the local school, Peter was in a position where very few people questioned, or cared what he did. And as the son of Roger Moen, who was killed by the SS for being a member of the Free French underground network, he was a man with a reason to resist.
"OH! I am so sorry, monsieur," exclaimed Peter to the unknown man. "I did not mean to bump into you; I must watch where I am going."
Quite alright, quite alright," answered the man. "I'm sorry to bother you sir, but are you Peter Moen?"
"Um, yes, I am. May I ask who you are?" he replied, suddenly turning cold.
Slowly, as if pondering his response, the man said, "At this time, I believe it would be most prudent if you called me Alain."
"But that is not your real name, is it, monsieur?"
With a light laugh that defied the old and tired look on the man's face, Alain answered, "No, monsieur, it is not. It is simply a name that keeps me out of much trouble."
"You are with the résistance?" Peter gasped.
"I would be out of my wits to answer that question on the street, although I am sure you know the answer. I do hate to be short about this, but I am here to ask if you still weep over the loss of your father." Alain countered.
"I do," whispered Peter. "...And I damn you for bringing the pain back to me now. I cry every night for my father, and I vowed the night the he was taken from my family home that I would somehow make things right."
"It would be in your best interest to forget your pain for now, and if you wish to truly honor your father, remember these phrases," the man said, as he slipped a large can into Peter's jacket pocket, "I will contact you again."
With a tip of his cap, the strange old man known only as Alain turned and walked into the sparse crowd of people on the street, and vanished.
Fearing an SS trap, Peter looked in circles to find any sign of the red banded hats that signaled the presence of Hitler's most brutal and feared unit. He had heard about traps like this, where an agent placed incriminating evidence on a subject, and the man was almost immediately arrested. After a moment, realizing that he was in fact alone in the crowd, he placed his right hand in his pocket and fingered the can he was given. "Why a can?" he pondered, as he walked the short distance between the school and his small home on the outskirts of town.
Upon reaching the door of his cottage, Peter felt a twinge of fear as he opened his front door. This was another familiar trap of the SS. Wait for the person to get home, where they may feel safe, and then arrest them as they walk in the door. Hesitantly, he turned the knob, and then, with a burst of energy, he swung the door open fiercely, hoping to catch any intruder off-guard. But the house was empty, save his cat, which was his only companion since he had sent his wife to live with her parents in La Roche-Guyon, in relative safety north of Paris.
He swiftly closed and locked his door, and for the first time, he pulled the mysterious can out of his pocket. It was a can of... spinach? Was he supposed to burn into his memory the list of ingredients and the maker as well? It seemed quite an absurd task, and for the first time, Peter thought that this might all be a hoax. Some old man who knew about his father, and, out of either boredom or spite, made a small joke at his expense.
So Peter set the can down on his counter, planning on using it in tonight's dinner. No sense in wasting food when the rations have been so small for so long. So he grabbed his church key from the drawer, and with one quick movement, punctured the can. He was expecting the pungent smell of boiled spinach, but instead, there was nothing. No smell at all. Peter quickly finished opening the can, and when he had finished, he was amazed at what he saw there. There was a small crystal radio, wrapped in a single sheet of paper.
So this was no joke! Alain was real! A real link to the résistance! The rush that washed over Peter was more than he could bear, and he sat down hard into his kitchen chair. Somehow he had been plucked from the pile of the seemingly insignificant, and had been set into a place where he could do some good for his homeland and his people! How was now insignificant to him, what mattered was that he was now able to help his homeland fight to free itself of the oppressive chains laid by the Nazis and the farcical Vichy government.
After a few minutes of collecting himself, Peter unwrapped the radio, and read what ended up being five separate phrases on the paper.
The first was "Messieurs, faits vos jeux", and second was "La sirène a les cheveux décolorés." The third, "L'électricité date du vingtième siècle" made him stop for a second, while the fourth "Les enfants s'ennuyent dans le jardin" made him laugh a little because he knew it to be true. The final, and most obscure message was "La lune est pleine d'éléphants verts".
He had no idea what they meant. No idea if they even meant anything at all. But they were there. The radio was there. That was enough proof for Peter. All he had to do now was wait for another contact from Alain.
He did not have to wait long. No more than a few hours later, a light knock was heard on the door. A quick glance out the window, and Peter saw a young woman standing on his porch, acting as though she belonged.
The door quickly opened, and Peter poked his head through asking, "What is your business with me? Who has sent you? Are you from Alain?"
The woman stared straight into Peter's eyes, and said in a hushed, but urgent tone, "If you wish to give away our leader and our country so easily, maybe we have chosen the wrong man."
"No no no no no, I am so sorry! Please, please, I am just a wreck right now; this is all happening so fast. Please, come in, come in. Would you care fo..."
Peter was unable to finish his sentence before the woman barged past him into his kitchen. On the table sat the radio and paper, right where they had been left by Peter after his momentary shock.
"And you also leave evidence on your kitchen table for anyone to find?" came the admonishment. "I really do think Alain has chosen a poor radio man."
Taken aback, Peter stared at the woman as she placed the radio back into the can, and placed it high on a shelf. She then grabbed the paper, and tore it to pieces before throwing them into the small stove to be burnt into oblivion.
As she sat back down, the woman said, "I do hope you have remembered those phrases, because not even Alain was privy enough to see them."
"I have memorized them," came the reply, quickly, "but I do not understand them. They were just odd phrases with no meaning."
"Then they should be easy to remember again and again. Because as of right now, you have nothing more important in your life than to listen to your radio each night for those phrases."
"But what do they mean? Obviously they are code, but for what? And what will I be listening to on my radio? And for that matter, you have not yet even introduced yourself to me, who are you?" Peter was very quickly getting that anxious feeling in his stomach again. This woman could be the enemy, and she could have just destroyed what needed to be saved, and now was waiting for the rest of her group to arrive.
"You ask too many questions, Monsieur Moen. But I will answer them, because that is why I have been sent. First, I will answer the last. My name, as you need to know it, is Giselle. As for your other questions... The radio is tuned to the BBC French language broadcast. At 9:15 every night, personal messages are broadcast, and inside the personal messages, many codes are disseminated to groups such as ours. As for the phrases, they mean this. The first is a drop signal, whether it is food or arms or other needed items from the Allies to support our movement. The second is the code for recon information on military installations and monpower. The third is for recon of civilian industries that could be used by the Nazis. The fourth is more important than the first three. It is the code for sabotage. But the fifth and most important code is meant to inform the resistance that the invasion is imminent, and that we must sever whatever links we can from here to Paris, whether it is communications, roads, rails or whatever else."
"So it is true? The Allies are planning invasion? Glorious! What is our part? I mean, what are we to do to help?"
"You give away secrets like candy, you ask questions like a child, and you listen like a deaf man. I think Alain has lost himself in choosing you."
"As you have said, multiple times, Madame," chided Peter. "I assure you, Monsieur Alain has made the right choice, though. I assure you."
Giselle stood up from the table, and as she passed Peter on her way out, she glared while handing him another slip of paper. "Do remember these items as well, and then dispose of the paper in your fire. I would hate to have it lying about when someone visits."
With that, she walked out the door, and Peter was again alone. The paper now in his hand contained the ways to contact the group, a different way for each of the messages that were to be received.
------
Months later, Peter had found himself growing bored listening to the Free French BBC broadcast every night. He had heard thousands of phrases in that time. Some were from families hoping their sons would hear them, others were from lovers, and yet others were obvious codes meant for other cells. Near the end of this nights broadcast, a familiar message came across the air, and a now all too common shiver went up his spine. A drop was planned for tomorrow night.
As soon as the broadcast was over, Peter rushed upstairs from his cellar, and pulled a book off the shelf. Inside the cover were the forms of contact with his cell leader. He knew he was supposed to destroy the paper, but the instructions were so specific, and since they were never used twice, he knew he would never remember them. Immediately, he grabbed a red stained shirt and went outside to hang it on his line and upon reentering his house, he placed an empty glass on the arm of his chair outside. As the excitement from the message faded, Peter headed to bed, knowing that in the morning, his next mission would begin.
The morning of Saturday, June 3rd broke quiet and bright. Peter awoke late, knowing that the night ahead would be busy. He spent his early hours in his garden, as was his custom, and then as the afternoon began to bake the earth, he withdrew to the shade of his porch to read.
At dusk, he went inside, grabbed his bag and bicycle, and headed off into the countryside, hoping he would not pass a checkpoint on the way out. Luck was on his side this night, and he was able to meet up with the rest of his team in their safe-house without incident.
Once inside, Peter saw the familiar faces of Alain and Giselle, as well as a one that was unknown to him.
"So, Peter we have a supply drop tonight, I gather," began Alain.
"Oui. I believe this will be the arms shipment we've needed," was Peter's reply.
"Wonderful. Just wonderful," joked Giselle. "You boys always get giddy when you're given new toys."
"And you weren't thrilled with the last drop?" said Alain.
"Yes, I was. But that one included francs."
Peter joked, "Point taken."
"Monsieur Moen, I am shocked, you have not yet asked who this young man is," snorted Alain.
"Well, I assume that since he is standing right next to you, and has not yet put a knife to your throat, that he is well vouched for, and the newest member of our little troupe." came the calm reply.
The young man spoke up. "I'm William Penhurst. Pine Bluff, Arkansas, US of A, sir. Home office dropped me into the fields 'bout three nights ago, thinking y'all might need some help with the demolitions they're dropping into ya."
"Well, William. Have you been this far before?" asked Peter.
"Whatcha mean, have I been this far?" asked the young man.
"I mean, have you been behind the enemy line, before? Have you ever been a part of something like this, running around in the night, hiding from the Nazis, hoping to help destroy their war machine? Do you have any sort of experience in what you'll be doing in the foreseeable future?"
"Peter," quipped Giselle, "You still ask too many questions. Tonight, you are making my ears ring."
William waved this off with his hand, and looked back to Peter. "Yes, sir, I have. I was working demolition with a cell in Nantes until they were captured about six months ago. We were wiring up a few rail lines when a patrol spotted our work. I got away by the skin of my teeth, and I found my way back to London through Spain and Portugal. Now lemme tell ya, that's not a walk in the park, so I ask you kindly to not assume jack about me."
With a laugh, Alain brought back some calm, saying, "Well Peter. You ask a question of an American, and you are sure to get an America-sized answer. Now we must go, the drop can not stay in the fields long tonight, I have a feeling in my stomach that the patrols will be close."
------
In the fields between Arromanches and Bayeux, a cache of explosives and other weapons parachuted to the ground in the middle of a hayfield. The drop plane that had brought the cargo banked to the right, and made its way to another field, another point on the map.
Alongside the road running the length of the western edge of the field were the members of the resistance cell. As the package landed, all four waited, ready to spring into action to break down the crate, and disseminate the cargo into their bags.
Unknown to them, a group of SS agents was on the other side of the field, waiting for them to do exactly that, as well. They had been tipped off about the drop, and knew that tonight would be a good night for the Reich.
When the coast seemed clear, Alain gave the order to his compatriots, and the group of four rushed towards the crate.
*popopopopopopopopop* The sound of machine gun fire was crisp and clear in the night air. Giselle and William slid to the ground almost instantly, dead where they fell. Both Peter and Alain dove behind a hay bale, weapon in hand, ready to fight their way into the forest on the other side of the field.
*popopopopopop* The staccato action of the German weapon was unnervingly loud, maddeningly close and painfully repetitive.
Alain was unharmed, leaning against the bale, while Peter had been grazed along the outside of his left thigh. *popopopopopopopop* They could feel the shots hitting the bale, and were thankful that it was dense enough and deep enough to stop the rounds from penetrating.
"Someone must have tipped of the Germans. There is no way they knew this drop location," whispered Peter.
"It had to have been the American. It had to. How could I have been so stupid to have not seen through the trickery?" bemoaned Alain.
"It is alright, Alain, it's OK," Peter soothed, "Don't beat yourself up now over this. It wastes too much energy.
"Peter, you are right, again. But now, you are injured and we need to separate. They are between us and the forest. If we stay together, there is no way either of us will make it." *popopopopopopopop* "Wait for me to draw their fire, and then run as fast as your legs will take you into the woods. Then tomorrow, if it's not being watched, get back to the safe-house. In the leg of my chair are the instructions for contacting London to get you out of here."
"I am not leaving you," Peter stated defiantly. "We will both get to the house. Together."
"I can not risk that, Peter. You are more important to the résistance than I, because you know the codes for the invasion, and I do not! Please, just do as I say, and get ready to run!"
"Alain, my poor old man. I told you, I am not leaving you. Besides, unless you try to run, neither of us is in much danger."
Shocked, Alain watched as Peter stood and grabbed a small box of matches from his pocket. He struck one, used it to light the rest of the box, and tossed it out from behind the bale of hay. He then stepped out, next to the matches, his hands raised. "My friends, the Reich shall last forever!"
Now he turned to Alain, gun in hand, and whispered, "I do like you Alain, you are a strong man. But the great army of the Reich can not be stopped. Now please, hand me your weapon, and I will make sure you receive much kindness."
------
July 4th, 1944 -- Arromanches, France
Peter Moen, also known as Heinrich Goebbels, radio operator for a covert group of Free French members and top double agent for the German Abwher, worked under the umbrella of the American Office of Strategic Services. He worked with the Americans, but he was still a son of the Reich. And the knowledge he had just obtained over his crystal radio meant the world to him and his Führer.
"La lune est pleine d'éléphants verts."
- VS -
Entry 2
"Please escort prisoner number 57590 to hold number 2304 on floor number 110. Thank you." The female voice came from a rather boxy and unfashionable speaker hanging from the ceiling."I tell you," said a shaggy man wearing dirty, torn rags, "I've been all over the Universe and no other galactic borough has ever gotten in such a huff about this sort of thing before."
"Well," started the large man whose massive right hand was clutching the shaggy man's relatively scrawny neck, "if you steal enough bumpers off buggies, you're bound to run out of luck sooner or later. And when you run out of luck, you run into me, Bob Crusher, son of the great Prisoner Escort, Skull Crusher." Prisoner Escort Bob Crusher tightened his grip on the rapidly reddening neck of the shaggy man. They stood side-by-side in a long corridor filled with prisoner-Prisoner Escort pairs.
"Your father named you Bob?" asked the shaggy man. "Couldn't he have been a bit more creative given your last name?"
"My mum wanted me to go into finance."
"I see."
"Please escort prisoner number 57591 to hold number 2305 on floor number 110. Thank you."
"You're next, '592," said Bob Crusher as the prisoner-Prisoner Escort pair in front of them walked into the elevator that took them up to the holds. Bob Crusher forced the shaggy man forward and they waited for the call for prisoner '592.
"Look," choked the shaggy man as he failed in his attempt to peel Bob Crusher's enormous hand from his comparatively pencil-like neck, "the name's Alex Ambler. I'm just trying to get to know the guy who's going to throw me in the hole for the rest of my life for the pretty mild offense of stealing bumpers off space buggies."
"Mild offense!" exclaimed Bob Crusher. "My great grandmother, Gertrude 'Ball' Crusher, was killed by a bumper thief a few years ago! The bloody fool swiped her bumper mere hours before she got in a 'mild' fender-bender, or so they called it. The missing bumper caused the buggy to collapse with her inside. They said it was some flaw in the design or something."
In fact, there was a major flaw in the design of the space buggies that did indeed cause entire frames to collapse on their occupants if they were struck at a very specific point behind the bumper. The company that used to make them accidentally leaked this information to the public and they eventually became so infamous that they simply ceased to exist because the public willed it to be so. The physical phenomenon, known as Cessation by the Wills, is a complete mystery to everyone except to those in politics where this has happened so many times that people have started to become very annoyed with it. The public outcry has started to make people wonder if the people will exercise Cessation by the Wills on Cessation by the Wills, if some coincidences can save its existence, or if any of this is even possible in the first place.
Alex Ambler winced from the pain of the vice-like grip Bob Crusher's right hand had on his neck. He had spent years in star systems across many galaxies swiping parts off things like space buggies, Galacto Super Scooters, and the immensely popular, though slightly outdated, best-selling product of the successful Galacticorp Company, the Space-o-Mobile.
The wonderful thing Alex had discovered about the Universe was that it was so unimaginably huge that there was always some backward civilization to which one could sell "advanced" technology like the bumper from a space buggy for priceless artifacts. If all else failed, the great advantage the buggy bumper provided Alex was the ability whack the potential buyer about the head a few times until he was convinced he indeed needed the thing.
After all these profitable years, he had come across a momentous obstacle that he would have to overcome quickly if he was to overcome it at all.
"Suppose," said Alex struggling to forget his pain for a moment, "I were to tell you that I was the one who stole your grandmother's bumper."
"What?!" shouted Bob Crusher. In his fit of surprise, he momentarily let go of Alex Ambler's neck long enough for Alex to rush forward into the elevator just as a female voice came from the rather boxy and unfashionable speaker hanging from the ceiling saying, "Please escort prisoner number 453657592 to hold number 872306 on floor number 110. Thank you."
Alex Ambler spun around and slammed the red "Close" button as hard as he could. The doors instantly closed just as Bob Crusher's brain was able to catch up with the ruse. Alex hit 15 on the number pad randomly and the elevator shot upward to an unknown floor. Bob Crusher decided that his best course of action would be to forget everything that had happened and say, "It's not my job to remember everything around here," if anyone ever developed the audacious desire to ask him about such an embarrassing thing.
For thousands of years, the areas of the planet Earth that were not covered with water had been divided up into countries by various governments. After thousands of different governments and religions, and thousands of wars fought over precisely which government or religion was the absolute best, the citizens of Earth sifted through the mountains of ruins and simply decided one day that a mindless bureaucracy was, in fact, the best way to control those who felt particularly strongly about a certain government or religion. If an Earth man wanted to start a war or a revolution, he had to fill out no less than 2,600 forms including those titled "Proof of Adherence of Your Weapons Metal According to Endangered Metal Resolution 243" and "Complete Personal Information of Those Who Might Die or be Affected in Any Way." Needless to say, nobody had bothered to start a war or a revolution for centuries, and though everyone spent 65% of their lives filling out paperwork to do various activities, they did it peacefully.
Alex had journeyed to Earth on the way to the most mind-bogglingly technologically underdeveloped planet he had ever heard of, Stonius IV, where, it was rumored, someone had just invented the wheel. On Earth, he was apprehended in the act of stealing a buggy bumper and he had, for the first time in his life, not been able to bribe a police officer for his release, due to the extreme efficiency of the Earth police as dictated by Policing Efficiency Resolution 34. Alex originated from a somewhat medium-sized planet called Perius, whose people had a flare for corruption. Because of this, he was not used to anything resembling police efficiency.
As Alex ascended the elevator shaft of the enormous complex, he saw little numbers tick away on a display above the door. He had started on 8, and on 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, and 14, the elevator made a loud "ding!" sound and kept lifting itself up the shaft. However, when he got to floor 15, Alex pressed the "Stop" button and the elevator made the same loud "ding!" noise and stopped.
As it did so, a calm, male voice spoke from the speaker next to the number pad. "You are on floor 15 of the UE worldwide headquarters. In any of your previous visits to the facility, have you been this far?"
"No," said Alex.
"Well," said the voice, "I would be glad to tell you everything you need to know about the facility and this floor before you get off the elevator."
"That," said Alex, "would be a relief."
"If you could just fill out these forms," said the voice as about twenty papers flew out of a small slit in the wall, "we can get started."
"Actually I think I'll just be getting off, thanks."
The doors slid open and he stood facing a large office with cubicles stretching off into the distance. He stepped into the office and saw people rushing around with papers in their hands and urgent looks on their faces. After several failed attempts to stop someone, Alex succeeded with a slick-looking man.
"Hello," said the office-worker. He looked at Alex's ragged clothes and said, "What do you want?" Then he saw Alex's slightly more respectable shoes and assumed it was simply casual day in upper-middle-management and there was some new style he had not yet discovered, as most regular middle-managers were always a few months behind on such things. The office-worker amended his statement by saying, "Welcome to the Paper Transference Department. My name is Martin Vinterland. How can I help you today?"
"I'm trying to find a way out of here," said Alex. "Could you point me there? I'm not all that acquainted with this planet, so if you could direct me to the nearest buggy, preferably unlocked, it would be greatly appreciated."
"I'm not quite sure what you mean," said Martin Vinterland. "Have you been this far into the complex before? The only way into this area is the elevator and you clearly just arrived from there. Perhaps if you would like to fill out some forms—"
"No," interrupted Alex. "Just tell me which floor I have to go to in order to get outside."
"Sir," started Martin Vinterland rather impatiently, "I could show you a diagram of the complex to help you get your bearings."
"Yes, that would be fine."
The United Earth's worldwide headquarters was a massive structure. It was 200 stories tall and was the size of a city. In fact, it was specifically the size of what used to be Amsterdam. The UE had decided to build the headquarters there since the city was already in ruins after the Netherlands warlords had invaded France in 2243 AD sparking a massive World War. These warlords had planned on using the entirety of France as a huge marijuana farm. They obviously did not succeed, and, at the end of the war, the rest of the world's air forces carpet-bombed Amsterdam just for good measure.
"You'll have to go here for processing," said Martin Vinterland pointing at a place on the 58th floor, "and you'll have to fill out sixteen forms here on the 110th floor after which you will have clearance to dock 567 on the 130th floor. There you can ask someone to give you a lift back to the ground, but that will most likely involve the filling out of a few forms as well. So just do that and you'll be on your way."
"Now see here," said Alex. "I don't want to fill out any forms. I just want to get to a space buggy and get off this rock." Alex walked over to a nearby desk and found a sharp letter-opener which he quickly and deftly brought to Martin Vinterland's throat. "Get me out of here and I won't hurt you."
"Sir, you can't possibly be serious."
"Why not?" asked Alex. "I've been around the Universe and I've had to kill a few disagreeable middle-managers in my day."
"You misunderstood me, sir," said Martin Vinterland as sweat began to appear on his brow. "You cannot physically maim someone without filling out the proper forms. Any five year-old who has read Physical Injury Resolution 6,543 knows that."
"Do five year-olds typically read Physical Injury Resolution 6,543?"
"Yes," said Martin Vinterland defiantly. "It's required reading."
Alex sighed and decided to let this man live out the remainder of his pointless little life. He made his way back to the elevator and decided to do what was obvious: he pressed the number 1 on the number pad.
Many "dings!" later, Alex arrived at the bottom floor of the massive UE headquarters. Once again, a calm, male voice spoke from the speaker next to the number pad. "You are on floor 1 of the UE worldwide headquarters. In any of your previous visits to the facility, have you been this far?"
"Er...No," said Alex.
"Well," said the voice, "I would be glad to tell you everything you need to know about the facility and this floor before you get off the elevator."
"How do I get out of here?" Alex shouted impatiently at the voice.
"If you could just fill out these forms," said the voice as about twenty papers flew out of a small slit in the wall and joined the others already there, "we can get started."
"Let me off!"
The doors slid open and Alex stepped out. He stood in a small room with small metal walls. On the far side of the room, and the term "far side" is used loosely since no part of the small room was very far from any other part of the small room, was a small booth with a small man wearing small glasses and...Well, most everything was rather small. Alex walked up to the booth and knocked on the glass separating it from the small room.
"Excuse me," said Alex. "How do I leave this complex?"
"Who are you," said the small man and he quickly added, "sir?"
"I'm a guy who's trying to leave this complex. I...uh...was visiting," lied Alex, "and now I'm lost. I need to get out."
"Sir, you said you're just visiting this complex. In your previous visits have you been this far downstairs?"
"Is that some sort of standard question everyone asks everyone around here?"
"Yes."
"Oh."
"So have you been this far?"
"No."
"Then please fill out these fifty four forms and I can get them processed. You'll be out of here in no time. After that you can go to floor sixty eight where you can start filling out the forms regarding the state of your clothing, how many siblings your great grandparents had, and what aspirations you want your great grandchildren to have. Then you can get over to floor ninety eight and—"
"Enough!" shouted Alex. He ran back to the elevator and got inside. He looked at the massive number pad and sighed.
The elevator rushed back upward and stopped only a few "dings!" away. Once again, a calm, male voice spoke from the speaker next to the number pad. "You are on floor 8 of the UE worldwide headquarters. In any of your previous visits to the facility, have you been this far?"
"Yes," said Alex. The doors opened and he was back in the long hallway with the prisoner-Prisoner Escort pairs. He saw a straggling Prisoner Escort who was trying to look as if he knew nothing and wished nobody would ask him anything about any particular prisoner who may have escaped. It was Bob Crusher, Alex noticed. He walked up to him and coughed politely to get Bob Crusher's attention.
"Shall we continue?" asked Alex. "I just went on a bit of a stroll about your establishment here, but now I'm back."
"Er, alright then." Bob Crusher grabbed Alex's neck and steered him to the back of the long hallway. "To the back of the line we go again!"
After a long waiting period, Alex was dumped in his small cell where he had access to a television and many unhealthy snacks. He never quite escaped, but he also didn't fill out any boring forms. He watched television and ate poorly for the rest of his life and he never heard "Please fill out this form" or "Have you been this far?" ever again.
Entry 1:
Adamdidit2u
BillsSBChamps
blank_mind
BLITZKREIG_BOB
bob
BobLobla
comicbookguy
corn_nugget
Coyote
Davros
doctorj24
dodahdave
domenad
ess-arr
fudgepacker
Jack_McCallum
jgreening
JMG114
JonnyX
kimmy02721
loki
Magicaddict
munkeypants
MyNameIsTim
Pentameter
Razor
RyuFu
Slovin
Snark
spedmonkey
stevie_says
WildcatMcGee
31 eligible votes (32 total) *
Entry 2:
absolutes
badassmofo
Bellebrown
Berty
c1ndy
CaptainThorns
checkyourmail
Crystle
darko
DonkeyOnTheEdge
Falconer
firefly
Genko
indoninja
jack11058
joedaddy
Katastrofadark
krissi
MANICMOTHER
Method
minnowtaur
Natsukau
polyamorousaj
rad1101
rushtawin
satchel
sebcharrot
sg11588
The_Yellow_Dart
thecaes
thorpe
Viciousriffs
William_Q_Percy
youarsoghey
zakalwe
31 eligible votes (35 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 jgreening (user info) at 2005-07-29 00:22:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
That's a nice tie... Maybe you could break the one with Rudolph and the red light nose?
I hate that one...
Submitted by NetProphet (user info) at 2005-07-28 23:07:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'll break YOUR tie, goldnagbit.
Yeah, that's right. Your favorite one, with the piano keys on it.
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-07-28 13:49:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Entry one takes it in a tie breaker!
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-07-28 13:41:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:24:15 (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't think I can vote for no.1 because of the whole OSS thing, I'm having flashbacks to that film of lies about the Enigma machine. It was the S(pecial).O(Perations).E(xecutive) and I only feel strongly about it is because my school sat me and a load of other kids (we where like, 9 or something) in front of this old lady who told us a story about being raped and tortured by German soldiers because she was part of the SOE. Freaked the shit out of me I can tell you.
_+_+_+_
i believe the SOE either preceded the OSS or was subordinate to it. there was an OSS, which is viewed as the direct predecessor to the CIA.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:43:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Okay that's a cuntish reason to vote, I apologise. I would have voted for two anyway though. I'm in a lighthearted mood.
Submitted by Berty (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:24:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't think I can vote for no.1 because of the whole OSS thing, I'm having flashbacks to that film of lies about the Enigma machine. It was the S(pecial).O(Perations).E(xecutive) and I only feel strongly about it is because my school sat me and a load of other kids (we where like, 9 or something) in front of this old lady who told us a story about being raped and tortured by German soldiers because she was part of the SOE. Freaked the shit out of me I can tell you.
Submitted by MyNameIsTim (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:21:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:20:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I disagree.
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:15:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
How could you possibly complain about the dialouge in Entry 1? It's the best written dialouge in this competition so far.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:14:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Whoa - looks like I tied it up there.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:14:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Did it.
Submitted by Razor (user info) at 2005-07-28 11:11:45 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Author 1 - Why was Mr. Moen so worried about the SS finding him at the beginning of a story if he was working for them? If you're going to show the inner emotions of a character, it's cheating to lie to to the reader.
Author 2 - Not a bad idea, but a weak opening.
Submitted by thorpe (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:59:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't think I have time to read this before voting closes. Sorry,
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:44:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
How the hell did my review come up twice and why is the first sentences of my 1st review missing?
Submitted by loki (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:29:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by kimmy02721 (user info) at 2005-07-28 10:12:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
these were both great. tough decision.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2005-07-28 09:57:03 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by ess-arr (user info) at 2005-07-28 09:45:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Coyote (user info) at 2005-07-28 08:59:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
How can this one be close?
Submitted by Pentameter (user info) at 2005-07-28 08:29:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Viciousriffs (user info) at 2005-07-28 01:58:46 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by minnowtaur (user info) at 2005-07-28 01:22:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
hehe, reminds me of hitchiker's guide to the galaxy...man i love that book...
Submitted by checkyourmail (user info) at 2005-07-28 00:43:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by The_Yellow_Dart (user info) at 2005-07-27 23:33:38 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2005-07-27 21:52:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
1 was great, but 2 just took it sooo much farther.
"The United Earth's worldwide headquarters was a massive structure. It was 200 stories tall and was the size of a city. In fact, it was specifically the size of what used to be Amsterdam. The UE had decided to build the headquarters there since the city was already in ruins after the Netherlands warlords had invaded France in 2243 AD sparking a massive World War. These warlords had planned on using the entirety of France as a huge marijuana farm. They obviously did not succeed, and, at the end of the war, the rest of the world's air forces carpet-bombed Amsterdam just for good measure."
I laughed hard at that.
Submitted by MANICMOTHER (user info) at 2005-07-27 21:49:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
1 was great, but 2 just took it so much farther.
"In fact, it was specifically the size of what used to be Amsterdam. The UE had decided to build the headquarters there since the city was already in ruins after the Netherlands warlords had invaded France in 2243 AD sparking a massive World War. These warlords had planned on using the entirety of France as a huge marijuana farm. They obviously did not succeed, and, at the end of the war, the rest of the world's air forces carpet-bombed Amsterdam just for good measure."
I laughed hard at that.
Submitted by domenad (user info) at 2005-07-27 21:14:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-07-27 21:00:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
shit, I hate breaking ties. especially considering how finely matched these entries were.
Submitted by zakalwe (user info) at 2005-07-27 20:58:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2005-07-27 20:57:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
COME ON NUMBER 2
Submitted by dodahdave (user info) at 2005-07-27 20:03:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
These were both well written. Congrats to both authors.
While I did enjoy the Adam-esque writing of entry 2, entry 1 really drew me in with the story.
Submitted by Falconer (user info) at 2005-07-27 19:26:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by bob (user info) at 2005-07-27 18:11:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-07-27 18:05:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Holy shit, I had no idea that the vote was THIS close!
Submitted by William_Q_Percy (user info) at 2005-07-27 18:03:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
tough call.
Submitted by Katastrofadark (user info) at 2005-07-27 17:32:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by munkeypants (user info) at 2005-07-27 14:45:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
NICE
Submitted by BLITZKREIG_BOB (user info) at 2005-07-27 14:33:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
These both rocked my face off.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2005-07-27 14:09:49 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
entry 2 tried a little to hard to be hitch-hiker's guide to the galaxy. but i still voted for it. i couldn't stomach the dialogue in entry 1.
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2005-07-27 13:31:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Sorry #2, this told me you didn't proof read...
"Please escort prisoner number 57590 to hold number 2304 on floor number 110. Thank you." The female voice came from a rather boxy and unfashionable speaker hanging from the ceiling.
a female voice came from the rather boxy and unfashionable speaker hanging from the ceiling saying, "Please escort prisoner number 453657592 to hold number 872306 on floor number 110. Thank you."
I really liked the twist at the end of 1
Submitted by sg11588 (user info) at 2005-07-27 12:27:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Tough one.
Submitted by Snark (user info) at 2005-07-27 12:17:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2005-07-27 09:06:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by comicbookguy (user info) at 2005-07-27 08:43:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
word.
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2005-07-27 05:34:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Entry 1 was good.
Entry 2 went nowhere which was a shame because I liked the humour and it started well.
-Dave
Submitted by rad1101 (user info) at 2005-07-27 03:21:39 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by absolutes (user info) at 2005-07-27 03:05:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2005-07-27 00:43:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
No Comment
Submitted by Crystle (user info) at 2005-07-26 22:34:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Damn... these were both good. Could we have both of these guys advance instead of either of the authors from the "Plaigerized Donovan" post?
Submitted by corn_nugget (user info) at 2005-07-26 22:24:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by blank_mind (user info) at 2005-07-26 21:51:23 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Genko (user info) at 2005-07-26 21:29:36 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Dear old Dougie would be proud.
Submitted by Genko (user info) at 2005-07-26 21:28:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2005-07-26 18:15:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Well, I'm not a big fan of Douglas Adams, and the Nazi double-agent thing is rather intriguing...
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2005-07-26 17:29:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
USA
USA
Submitted by Natsukau (user info) at 2005-07-26 17:04:19 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by rushtawin (user info) at 2005-07-26 16:50:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Slovin (user info) at 2005-07-26 15:49:31 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by indoninja (user info) at 2005-07-26 15:21:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by thecaes (user info) at 2005-07-26 15:10:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I must find out if that was true, about Goebbles.
I didn't like the twist at the end...well, I liked it, but it didn't make any sense, the way you were writing Peter early on. As far as surprises go, it was kind of a cheap one because there were no clues or hints or foreshadowing or anything like that.
Number 2 reminded me of Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy. Some funny parts in this one. Went on a little too long.
Both of these were okay.
Submitted by satchel (user info) at 2005-07-26 14:52:26 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by stevie_says (user info) at 2005-07-26 14:30:08 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by doctorj24 (user info) at 2005-07-26 14:28:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Easy vote for #1, it rocked! Good twists and GOSH I WANT MORE.
Submitted by Jack_McCallum (user info) at 2005-07-26 13:42:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
#2 was a valiant try but it just wasn't that well-written.
Who gives a fuck about the aesthetics of the speaker?
-
#1, that was some very good shit. You will go far in this contest.
Submitted by sebcharrot (user info) at 2005-07-26 13:12:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by firefly (user info) at 2005-07-26 13:11:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Magicaddict (user info) at 2005-07-26 13:10:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by fudgepacker (user info) at 2005-07-26 12:42:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Adamdidit2u (user info) at 2005-07-26 12:00:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by DonkeyOnTheEdge (user info) at 2005-07-26 11:45:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Auto vote for number two. Nothing interesting ever happens in France. Ever.
Submitted by jgreening (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:55:52 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by WildcatMcGee (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:41:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by krissi (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:39:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Method (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:38:40 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by BillsSBChamps (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:37:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by youarsoghey (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:30:25 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by badassmofo (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:29:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by JMG114 (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:25:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No comment.
Submitted by polyamorousaj (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:23:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Entry 1 annoyed me in that the characters still read in French yet spoke in English.
One or the other.
Fuck.
Submitted by spedmonkey (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:18:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by Bellebrown (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:14:02 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2005-07-26 10:12:47 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
No Comment