Novels2Search
Romantically Apocalyptic Webcomic
42. Children of the Station [ IV ]

42. Children of the Station [ IV ]

[http://rom.ac/img/rr7/10-06.jpg]

Stevenson Larkin, scribe 18B.

Book of thoughts.

I've started to collect various reports of my Brethren about the Prophet so that one day I may use them to put this fiend from the white, cold land on trial:

1)The Prophet was not pleased with the commemorative statue we've built and demanded that we tear it down immediately to construct a "TALLER ONE".

2)The Prophet was not pleased with the temperature of the tea offered. Tea was unceremoniously thrown into the face of Scribe 11, scalding him severely.

3)The Prophet was not pleased with the flavor/dexterity of the Crunchy Bar that was offered. The Crunchy Bar was slapped into the face of Scribe 9, bruising him severely and leaving a square imprint.

4)The Prophet was not pleased with the bedding offered for sleep, calling it "MOST UNCOMFORTABLE BED I'VE EVER RESTED ON". The investigation uncovered a tiny pea underneath the 12 mattresses. Displeased, the prophet threw the pea at Scribe 17, blinding the Scribe in one eye.

----------------------------------------

The revolution is upon us! Finally the Prophet has gone too far by insulting the parchment that my Brethren consider most sacred.

The Prophet called the holy parchment "Just a sticker from a soft drink bottle!" which has greatly enraged the gathered crowd.

There will be no trial for the Prophet! The False One shall be cast into the Pit of Sugary Death, from which none have ever escaped!

----------------------------------------

As my Brethren carried Captain to the pit, I felt endless joy.

We were finally free of the Masked one's tyranny.

While everyone was distracted by Captain's Suffrage in the Pit of Sugary Torment, I crept into the chamber of the dead Grandmaster Baghor.

When the Grandmaster died, I found a strange black device within labelled "FAX MACHINE".

I was hoping that it was a magical tool of some kind, so I've asked VENDING about it.

The VENDING told me that it was an outdated device to send messages, most likely dead.

Today, was my chance to find out what it truly was.

I smashed the FAX MACHINE open.

From within, fell out a piece of paper:

----------------------------------------

Dearest Andy,

I've included several items in a box with this letter.

Item one is a temporal watch. Wire it to a fruit and place it into a Vending Machine at the Metro Station 52-21-75. The station is a major hub and its sabotage it will be "fruitful" to our efforts to bring down the System on the Dark Day.

Item two is a hipster device called a fax machine.

Item three is an outlawed writing utensil, a ballpoint pen.

To stay in touch with me, write me notes on this paper and insert paper into the fax machine. The fax machine will scan your notes and create a copy of this paper on my end. Type numbers 1 777 416 265 9999 using the numbers pad to send the letter.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The fax machine technology relies on the old phone lines, which are separate from the Neural Net, and is thus untraceable. From my research, the Metro stations still have antiquated electrical and phone line sockets that can sync with the fax machine.

Yours,

Ariette.

----------------------------------------

Dear Ariette,

I had to act fast, it took me a very long time to find a working power plug for the fax machine that was close enough to a working phone line outlet. Thankfully the wires you provided were long enough, but commuters keep tripping on them and pulling them out of the walls. I couldn't find a fruit, but the Vending Machine issued me a Special Crunchy Bar as a free promotion. I strapped the watch to the Crunchy Bar and shoved it back into the Vending Machine. Hopefully that will suffice.

----------------------------------------

Dear Ariette,

I am not sure if my letter is getting through. Maybe the fax machine is broken or maybe the phone line is broken. The Fax keeps making screeching sounds, which is attracting unwanted attention of the passengers.

----------------------------------------

Dear Ariette,

I continue to scan my letter by shoving it into the fax machine. I am hoping that perhaps you are receiving it, but maybe are unable to reply for some reason.

The watch went off as planned, but no major explosions occurred. Perhaps, I shouldn't have used a Crunchy Bar?

What did occur was the station sealing itself off from the outside world and all of the passengers freezing in place.

I took off their Neural Interfaces and flushed them all down the toilet. I hope that the plan worked and that the Network is no more.

----------------------------------------

Since nobody's come to rescue us for a long time, I assume that everything's worked.

The Dark Day had come and I am trapped in the Metro station along with a crowd of passengers.

They are like kids now, they know basic concepts and words, but they don't remember who they are or what they did.

I will use them to create a new society, so that someday we may emerge and witness the rebirth of humanity.

As I was short on credits, the only thing I was able to buy from the Vending Machine was a lemonade bottle.

At least we have something to eat, as the machine vends out infinite crunchy bars for some reason.

----------------------------------------

It been months now. I can no longer stand the taste of the Crunchy Bars. The passengers don't seem to care, since they don't remember what other foods taste like.

I plan to leave the station via a pipe that I've discovered today that seems to lead outside.

I've taught all I know to an apprentice of sorts. I named him Baghor. I hope he understood my lessons. I gave him the unopened lemonade bottle and told him that I will return to rescue them all, after I find my true love Ariette. If you do receive this Fax, meet me on 4th and Broadway at noon. I'll be there, waiting for you.

Forever yours, Andy.

----------------------------------------

The letter from inside the FAX MACHINE was troubling.

I've hidden it within my journal as I am not sure if my Bretheren would be able to handle or understand the truth.

The others have returned from the Sugary Pit Cave.

I've asked them if the False Prophet had drowned.

They told me what happened.

I did not believe it.

I rushed to the pit.

The pit was... gone.