|
1004. wabbit - 7/31/2009 12:07:19 AM You do know I'm pulling your leg, right? 1005. vonKreedon - 7/31/2009 12:41:50 AM Yes, and you are also quite correct. And the Chandler needs a different car with something about it beyond "rented" and I cut Marlowe admiring the twitch in Eileen's walk as they walked down the dark wood-paneled hallway to the den and then the drink she mixe, Tanqueray and Tonic, for the two of them, For the form I'm writing, casual e-mail/Facebook, I wrote with little editing other than trimming to not lose the UA part under the weight of the imitation. 1006. wabbit - 7/31/2009 12:58:58 AM This reminds me of a master drawing class I once had. We were assigned artists whose style we had to imitate. We couldn't copy a drawing/painting, we had to have our own subject matter, but in the style of the assigned artist. Assigned by the instruction, not chosen by us. I got Giacometti and Seurat, and I can't begin to say what a great learning experience it was. It's a lot harder than one might think. 1007. wabbit - 7/31/2009 12:59:55 AM InstructOR, not instruction. Sheesh. 1008. alistairconnor - 7/31/2009 10:43:41 PM Someone knows their Potter...
Well, I have read all the books. Aloud. And seen all the films. Several times. Such are the burdens of a modern father. 1009. wabbit - 8/1/2009 12:03:46 AM As have I, and I don't have the excuse of children. Ok, I only read the first two aloud to my nieces, but I've read all the books. Haven't seen the latest film, but will soon.
Alice in Wonderland remains my favorite. 1010. alistairconnor - 8/1/2009 10:53:32 PM The holographic image of Kronen appeared, large as life, and twice as cheesy. He clowned around, smiling and waving to the others. "Come in Kronen", said Alistair. "Could you manage a bit of dignity? How will it look on the network news?"
"We are taping the event for our own records only", observed Dr Vassiliu. "There will be no media releases for the moment."
"Then think about the documentaries. Forty years from now, your grandchildren are going to cringe."
"Then perhaps we can do a second take?" said Kronen, seeming genuinely concerned.
The image of Kronen faded as Dr Vassiliu reduced the power of the ion beam. Errin Davidson seemed ecstatic, amazed and thrilled to see her theories so dramatically confirmed.
Sorin said : "This experiment is fascinating, but I don't see the connection with vampirology."
Professor Albu replied, somewhat embarrassed : "We had intended to repeat the experiment with a second subject, a vampire, because it would seem that there ought, theoretically, to be a considerable amplification effect due to certain specifics of vampire physiology and cellular biology. However, our subject, Courtney, is not yet eighteen, so cannot legally consent to the experiment."
"Why didn't you say so before?" said Dumitra, smiling. "It seems I'm the designated crash-test dummy today. Is there a form I have to sign, or can we just get on with it?" 1011. wabbit - 8/2/2009 11:38:30 PM That last makes me smile. Perpetual Darkness page is up to date. 1012. alistairconnor - 8/15/2009 3:46:51 PM As Dumitra was being installed in the phone-booth structure, Dr Vassiliu called them all to attention and gave a grave little speech.
"All of the information about the first experiment, which is a joint project between Dr Davidson and myself, is in the public domain. This is a fundamental requirement for all work at CERN, of course. There is keen interest in the holographic effect we have demonstrated today, in the worldwide quantum physics community, and there will be considerable interest and interaction, mostly on the internet of course.
"I must stress, however, that the second experiment, involving Dr Kronen's theories, is entirely ... informal. This is, in itself, highly irregular, however, we feel that the issues surrounding the interaction of cellular biology and nuclear physics are not yet... ripe for public discussion. I must therefore urge you all to discretion. Even to ... though as a scientist I can hardly believe I am asking you this... to absolute secrecy in this matter. The director of CERN has been informed, and has given his... tacit approval."
Dumitra viewed the hushed assembly with amused detachment. She was rather enjoying herself : all this fuss somewhat took her mind off her other preoccupations, namely her severe meth cravings, her desperate feelings of abandonment since Hank's mysterious departure, her all-pervading sense of her own worthlessness and desire to die.
"We're ready", announced Dr Kronen, from the control console where he was standing, tensely and awkwardly, with Vassiliu and Errin Davidson. "We will increase the power of the ion beam much more slowly this time, as we are unsure of the correct power level."
"I feel I should say a few historic words", said Dumitra. "Fit for a future documentary. Are you ready?"
Vassiliu smiled and told her to go ahead.
"Beam me up, Scotty." 1013. alistairconnor - 8/15/2009 3:59:14 PM The holographic image started to appear in the second phone box after only a few seconds, and rapidly became denser, but seemed strangely blurred.
"Projectionist! Get the focus right!" heckled Alistair.
Courtney gave a little scream : "Look! She's gone unfocused here too!" And indeed, Dumitra herself seemed as blurred and translucent as her holographic image.
"Power down!" commanded Kronen, and Vassiliu dialed back the ion beam rapidly.
There was a sound like a balloon popping, and Alistair thought he felt a puff of breeze. Dumitra was now quite opaque and focused, standing in the second phone booth.
There was a stunned silence, followed by a ragged cheer from the scientists.
"How do you feel?" said Sorin, helping Dumitra out of the cabin. She had a serene smile, and seemed to glow with health and wellbeing.
"Clean." she said. "Unburdened. Released. Fuck, that was good."
"How good was it, exactly?" said Alistair, arching an eyebrow.
"Oh, better than any drug I've ever tried. Better than... " she paused for reflection. "Better than all but the very best of sex. Can I do it again?" 1014. alistairconnor - 8/21/2009 11:06:12 PM Sorin was flushed and elated. "You're taking it all pretty seriously, aren't you?" teased Alistair.
"Yes, isn't she wonderful!" he enthused.
"She? Oh you mean Dr Davidson! Well, she's... " a sidelong glance at Halima... "not my type of course but I can see where..."
"Do you think she has an ... involvement with Kronen?" Sorin queried.
Alistair paused a few seconds for reflection. "Involvement? I think not... That is, I'd say he had a go, and got knocked back, categorically. You can trust me on this. I'm a world authority on the subject."
Sorin grinned at him gratefully. "And do you think that..."
"Do you think that you would have a chance with her? Well, this is a subject on which I am an acknowledged non-expert. However, for what it's worth, I can assure you that you have an infinitely better chance than Kronen had. Because Kronen is a player; and Davidson, I think, is not. And nor are you."
Sorin thought about this for a moment, then thanked him gravely. 1015. alistairconnor - 8/21/2009 11:28:16 PM That evening, while Dumitra was taking her HIV medication, Halima had another try at getting her to talk about Hank. She had been worrying about his disappearance all day, and furious with herself for trusting him too much.
"So, where do you think he's gone?"
"Skiing, of course. You saw the note he left me. He talked a lot about skiing, ever since we met", she lied. She was determined to cover for him, whether he was coming back or not.
Getting to the point, Halima challenged her : "Do you think he's gone back to the Organisation?"
Dumitra frowned, then smiled wryly. "I honestly don't know".
"And you honestly wouldn't tell me if you did. I understand. You're loyal to him. But where do his loyalties lie? If he tells them what we are doing here, they will come after us. They will kill us all if they can."
They stared at each other, neither flinching. Halima added : "So if you hear from him... " She paused. "Ask him to get in touch with me."
She thought of something else : "How's your meth craving? Bad taste to talk about it, I know, but..."
Dumitra frowned, and answered : "It's odd, I don't know where it's gone. But I could do with a cigarette." 1016. alistairconnor - 8/21/2009 11:40:05 PM Hank was awakened near dawn, rather roughly, by Davidson, returned from his nocturnal prowlings.
"What are your instructions, Master Mirka?" he said, vacating the coffin.
"Oh, enjoy some free time, lad." said Davidson, taking his place in the portable sarcophagus. "I will tell you all the details of the plan at sunset, when I awake. Be here then, dressed and equipped for cat burglary. That is all."
Doesn't trust me, thought Hank. Fair enough.
He now had ten hours of daylight to fill, before the nocturnal mission. He was itching for action, he had no desire to think through the consequences. He knew full well that this was his last chance to flee, to put as much distance as possible between himself and a vengeful Organisation.
He decided to go skiing. 1017. alistairconnor - 8/22/2009 12:24:39 AM The following morning, Milòs and Laslò met for breakfast at their habitual café.
"So, how did it go at the banquet?" asked Laslò.
"Well, I called in a few favours and managed to get put in charge of the sauces."
"You mean, you sucked a few cocks!"
"Don't be so crude, Laslò. That isn't how it works. As it happens, the principal sous-chef is in love with me. So anyway, it was quite easy to incorporate the blood into almost everything, barring desserts."
"Oh, so you worked out it was blood?"
"Well, it sure tastes like blood!" Milòs smacked his lips noisily. "What about you? How did your collecting go?"
"Well! During the banquet, while the guests were out, I did the rounds of my little helpers..."
"Getting your cock sucked?" suggested Milòs.
"Oh no, very businesslike, no time for funny business. Between them they got quite a haul : toenail clippings, lots of hair, stuff like that. We carefully labelled it all and I filed it in my collection. Last of all I called on Heidi."
"Surely that's not her real name?"
"Well, actually her name is Sophia. But she's a farmer's daughter from a high Alpine valley. She'll always be Heidi to me. Anyway, I had arranged to meet her in one of the presidential suites. She was leaning over the bath, cleaning it, and I thought : here's trouble. Then I saw her panties on the floor, and I knew it was a trap. Sure enough, she hitched up her dress and smiled at me from both ends, if you see what I mean. I tried to explain that there was no time, but before I managed to finish the sentence she had my cock in her mouth. Well, maybe I stammered a bit." 1018. alistairconnor - 8/22/2009 1:05:10 AM "Well, you know how sometimes you just can't fight it? So anyway, we got naked on the master bed, and we were doing some sixty-nine. Warm up for the main event. And that's when the door opens, and it's Madame, home early from the banquet."
"Singer songwriter? Used to be a model?"
"That's the one... I guess she's in her forties, but if I could have my pick of all the Presidents' wives... So anyway, I'm thinking we're both going to get fired for this, but she's grinning like a Cheshire cat. So I smile at her and I'm about to offer her some dick, but that's not what she's interested in. She literally pounces on Heidi's pussy!"
Milòs whooped with delight.
"Keep it down!" said Laslò. "This is definitely very confidential. So, Heidi's not fighting her off, on the contrary, and here's me, holding my dick, as the saying goes. But she's interested in me too, and I help her get undressed, and I get to snuffle around her crotch too. She's obviously much better than me, because by the time I get her to come, Heidi's already come three times or so. So then she climbs on top of Heidi, missionary style, and she's kissing her and stuff, and she wants me to do her from behind."
"In the ass?" asked Milòs eagerly.
"No, no... Not many women actually like that. You'd be surprised. The little Turkish girl on the third floor being an exception." They both laughed.
Laslò continued : "So, I'm boning the Dame - she seems to like it pretty well - and she's doing Heidi with her fingers, and after a while I can tell they're both going to come. So I thought I might as well let rip too -- you know, get it over with. Work to do, and all. And that's when the door opens again..."
"And it's Monsieur, right? I saw him getting hustled out of the banquet early, by his minders. He looked like he'd had one too many."
"From what I hear, one drink is one too many for him. So anyway, here he is, with a glazed expression and a big goofy grin, and he takes a few steps towards us, then registers what's going on -- in case you've forgotten, I'm fucking his wife in a three-way with the chambermaid -- and his jaw drops and his eyes are like saucers. And I sort of half-turn towards him, and my cock slips out and I jizz on him."
Milòs was shaking so much with laughter he almost fell off his chair. "You were supposed to get a sample from him... not give him one!" he gasped.
"Good point..." Laslò frowned.
"So... how come you're here, and not being renditioned to some Middle East torture chamber or something?" gasped Milòs.
"Well, that was when the alarms went off. Security lockdown. So we all just got dressed, avoiding each other's eyes, and went our separate ways." 1019. alistairconnor - 8/22/2009 1:05:57 AM "And so did you get a sample from him?"
"Well not from him... but I managed to find quite a few of her pubes, among mine, and in my mouth and stuff... I'm hoping that'll compensate a bit. Tell me, what do you know about the break-in? All the staff got interviewed by the cops, but they wouldn't even let us talk to each other."
"Well I think we can guess who did it", said Milòs. "But apparently it went badly wrong. Two Swiss soldiers got killed."
"Oh shit. Fuck. This is serious."
"Oh, so you've finally realised it's not all fun and games?" sais Milòs, sarcastically.
"So, what's it all about?" said Laslò.
"Fucked if I know. But I want out of it."
Their phones beeped, simultaneously. They both had a message from Hank, asking them to meet him urgently. 1020. webfeet - 8/22/2009 1:05:44 PM After a petit conge; I am in France, gorging myself on fresh goat cheese and mirabelles and working on my second novel.
AC, my unsolicited advice born from affection for you is that you have the ability to be a sexier David Lodge; ditch the vampire suit and go for what you know best, a vivid urbane world, rich in detail and knowledge. More on place, and detail: i know you have amassed enough material and have an eclectic cast of cosmopolitan characters that I think would be interesting, if more developed. keep the porno by all means, I think you have to be a bit of a gigolo in this business anyway. use plot devices as you wish, and I would go back to lodge and other writers of that ilk for inspiration. bises. 1021. alistairConnor - 8/23/2009 10:02:05 PM Well thank you for that, I am aware that I skimp on detail and on place, that can probably be improved.
The dialogue is patchy, I know. Are my characters any good? I rather like a couple of them, but I don't know if they have any objective existence.
Lodge eh? I suppose I'll have to read some. Amazon.co.uk here I come (the pound is cheap these days). 1022. alistairconnor - 9/30/2009 10:42:16 PM The approach to the hotel was fairly easy, much easier than Hank had anticipated. Davidson had plotted it out well, he realised; it was physically challenging, with fences to vault and walls to climb, but not very risky for someone of his calibre. He had to be very careful with the timing; Davidson had determined the pattern of military patrols precisely, and his safety margins were slim.
The real danger was the random patrols which supplemented the regular ones. But Davidson was lurking in the shadows, ready to cover him in that event.
Likewise, entering the hotel wasn't all that hard. Laslò had given him some useful clues about how to work around the alarm system. Once inside, he took off his grey overall, and headed for the Russians' suite in his bellhop uniform.
There, he had a stroke of luck. He had all the necessary material and skill to pick the lock of the suite, or to force it if necessary; but it would have taken time, and might have attracted attention. But the door was ajar, and he glided through. The suite was big, and apparently empty. He found the legendary potty, and collected the precious sample with distaste. He had almost reached the suite's exit door again when a door opened, and a young woman emerged from a small office.
Startled, she addressed him in Russian, then in English : "What are you doing here? It's off limits, surely you know that." She's probably feeling guilty about leaving the door open, thought Hank. Good looking : perhaps she's waiting for a lover? Do I have to take her down? A quick decision was required : he knew he could do it without fuss, and would do her no lasting harm. He would get away OK, but there would be an investigation, and who knew the consequences? Better try to bluff his way out.
"I'm sorry. I saw the open door and ... I thought you might be waiting for someone. Why not me?"
She grinned at this, and seemed to weigh his proposition. Oh Christ, he thought : what if she says yes?
"Run away, little boy. The important people will be back soon. Another time perhaps." Hank winked at her, and made a graceful exit. 1023. alistairconnor - 9/30/2009 11:23:11 PM Back outside in the snow, he knew the job was almost over. And he realised that the time for decisions was near.
He had never thought much about politics. His loyalty to his vampire kin was automatic, unquestioning. Being asked to kill for them had been a true test, a borderline moral dilemma which circumstances had allowed him to sidestep. Mere burglary he had no moral qualms with. World domination? Most of the directors seemed to be decent enough people. On balance, they would likely do a better job than the incumbents.
But his brief contact with this other crowd, the vampirologists of the WHO, had perturbed him more than he cared to admit. Ordinary enough people, but they were making their own decisions; like fish swimming freely in a sea of possibilities, weighing freedom and responsibility, making moral choices. He realised that he had been an ant all his life, marching in a column, never straying from the path determined for him, never imagining that he might take initiatives on his own account.
Checking his watch, he waited before crossing the last open space before the security perimeter fence. Once the scheduled patrol had disappeared, he set out across it, walking fast but noiselessly in the snow. He spotted Davidson a hundred yards off on the other side of the fence, at the arranged meeting point. Suddenly Davidson waved him back, but it was too late.
"Halt! Hands in the air!" First in German then in English, a two-man security patrol intercepted him, close to the security fence but still on the wrong side. Still in the closed security zone.
Play dumb again, though Hank. What am I doing here. Nothing much. The gear I'm carrying is a giveaway, though. It's not looking good.
He waited patiently, hands held high, as the Swiss soldiers closed on him, automatic weapons at the ready but not actually pointing at him. Nice touch, he thought.
As they came to a halt facing him, a couple of yards away, one of them made a quiet choking sound, then slumped. Garotted by Davidson, who had approached soundlessly, invisibly behind him.
The second soldier brought his gun to bear and opened fire as Davidson sprang at him. He was almost stopped in mid air by the impact of four or five powerful bullets, but landed on his target, his knife plunging downward in an arc, over the soldier's body armour, through his throat into his heart.
As they sprawled in the snow, Davidson face down on top of his victim, Hank suddenly saw things more clearly.
All this for a hunk of shit, he thought wonderingly. A doggy bag of Putin pooh. He slipped the ziplock bag out of his pocket, and threw it away as far as he could into the snow.
|
 |
Go To Mote #
|
|
