Sunday, October 28, 2012

Commander Kilfry Versus Dong


The Commander stepped onto the hard-thought deck of the Pax System’s Googleheim Consensus and looked around the antiquated chat room disdainfully. Though the mosaic platform and phosphorescent chandeliers looked majestic amidst the sweeping vista of a craterous alien terrain, Kilfry couldn’t allow himself to relax and enjoy the ambience of the artificially rendered environment.
Commander Kilfry had never quite gotten used to pneurosensory projection. Even the simple act of mentally connecting to the intrinsinet still made his balls itch like ripe cantaloupes. Nonetheless, Kilfry knew he had a job to do, just as surely as he knew that he would succeed at that job, whatever that mysterious, thus-far-unascertained job might be… to do.
“Are you monologuing in your head again?” Scoomer asked as he rubbed his temples. “You know that gives me the most intense pneurophonic feedback.”
“You will listen to my narcissistic thoughts, and you will love them!” Commander Kilfry hissed back angrily.
Scoomer grunted at the Commander indistinctly and wandered off into the crowd of well-to-do socialites. Though Kilfry disliked having Scoomer tag along with him, he knew that the scruffy young lad was his best hope tonight. Scoomer was a multi-medium, which meant that, through a number of expensive cybernetic implants and years of training at a top secret government facility, he was able to perceive some of the more subtle aspects of existence. This meant that, at any given moment, Scoomer could tell you the number of ambient ionic particles in a room, how many hairs were growing out of your nose, and what the waitress at WrDenalds was planning to do to your food tomorrow evening. 
The hard part was trying to get Scoomer to tell to you about these things. Sadly, trying to attract the multi-medium’s attention was like throwing a bratwurst into a wind tunnel – ineffectual and pointless.
Unfortunately, Scoomer was a necessity for the mission at the Googleheim Consensus. As this Pneurophonic Symposium was an intrinisinet-based social gathering, everyone attending was capable of selectively concealing their real-world identities from the general public. And tonight, one of the avatars gathered at the Symposium was concealing the identity of an elusive terrorist - a criminal wanted for high treason and intent to undermine the Universal Humanist Movement. 
A criminal who went by the alias of Vesuvio Dong.
“Ahh, Mr. Kilfry!” an indistinct female avatar exclaimed as she approached him. “I am so glad you could make it this evening! And… I see that you have an erection?”
Commander Kilfry furrowed his brow and looked at the front of his artificial pants.
“I, uh…” he said uncertainly as he tried to flatten the bulge in his trousers. “No, that’s just my avatar… I’m sorry, Dame Yustroch. This is… this is embarrassing…”
“Don’t be silly!” Dame Yustroch reprimanded him playfully as she took his arm and dragged him into the party. “In Pax, it is considered respectful to the host to bear one’s erect phallus unabashedly! It simultaneously displays one’s comfort, confidence and approval all at once!”
“Really, it’s just my avatar,” Kilfry insisted as he rubbed the front of his pants. “I bought it second-hand. The last owner must have stretched it out…”
“You are too modest!” Dame Yustroch reprimanded him severely. “Conversely, modesty is frowned upon in Pax.”
With a polite cough and a gentle ptooh, Dame Yustroch launched a large glob of artificial saliva at Kilfry’s avatar, hitting him square on his digital cheek.
“:(,” Commander Kilfry emoted morosely.
“I am sorry if I seem forward,” Dame Yustroch told him mechanically. “But if you are to fit in tonight, it is important that you understand the tenants of Paxian high culture. We are a very forthright people.”
“Yeeees, the erection thing is making a lot more sense now…” the Commander remarked as he wiped the hard-thought spittle onto his sleeve. “Now, tell me Dame Yustroch, have you been able to ascertain which one of these avatars belongs to Vesuvio Dong? It is of the utmost importance that I find him this evening…”
“Yes, yes, of course!” Dame Yustroch lauded as she turned to look around the chat room. “Where is my head? I have done some research into our guests, as you asked, and I believe I have obtained a promising suspect. See that man over there, in the blank avatar?”
Commander Kilfry would have found it hard to miss the man that Dame Yustroch pointed out. He was dressed in plain white from head to toe, as though a void occupied the space where his digital representation ought to have been.
“He goes by the handle, ‘Guest86’,” the Dame whispered surreptitiously. “It could be a family name, but not one that I’m familiar with. I believe that’s the man you’re looking for.”
“You’d best stand back, Dame Yustroch,” Kilfry said confidently as he tucked his thumbs into the belt on his bulging pants. “Because I’m about to crunch some data.”
Kilfry stomped heavily across the crowded chat room to find Scoomer sorting through a bowl of candied bits, trying to arrange them all by colour and size without taking any of them out of the bowl. It looked to be a harrowing and fruitless exercise, though that didn’t seem to bother Scoomer in the least.
“Stop that!” Kilfry told the multi-medium angrily, slapping a blue bit out of his hand. “Look over there! There! You see that man? Is that him??”
Scoomer blinked slowly and considered the man.
He looked at Commander Kilfry and then slowly looked back at the abnormally white Guest86. He looked back at Kilfry one last time, as though he was still digesting the thought, before finally conceding a nod.
“Yes,” Scoomer told him plainly.
Kilfry cackled maniacally.
“Gotcha,” he snarled triumphantly as he tore across the crowded Consensus.
Commander Kilfry locked the viral manacle construct around Guest86’s wrist with an approving bweep. The virus had cost the Universal Humanist Movement several billion dollars and decades of research time to fully develop. The viral construct essentially attacked the pneurophonic receptors in an individual’s head, preventing them from breaking free of their intrinsinet connection once the manacle was placed on their avatar’s wrist. With Guest86’s consciousness securely trapped in the pneurosensory construct that was the intrinsinet, Kilfry allowed himself a broad grin. Then, the Commander smacked the white avatar squarely in the chin and sent him sprawling to the floor.
“I know that’s you, Vesuvio!” Commander Kilfry yelled wildly at the prone Guest86. “I pwn you! Give up the location of the Profederate fleet! >:(”
Guest86 inclined his head quizzically from his crouch on the floor.
“Would you like to unsubscribe?” he asked Kilfry quietly.
Commander Kilfry paused.
“What?” he asked uncertainly, poised to attack again at a moments notice.
“Say STOP to unsubscribe,” Guest86 told Kilfry pleasantly as he climbed to his feet. “Thousands of sexy singles are waiting to talk to you!”
“Wh-what are you doing??” a nearby male guest asked Kilfry in shock.
As Commander Kilfry looked about, he realised that the social elite of Pax were all staring at him as though he was a piece of scabby dandruff.
“I’m, uh… I’m a Commander,” Commander Kilfry told them all hesitantly.
“Alright, ‘Commander’…” a man with a rotund avatar barked gruffly as he stepped forward. “Exactly why are you attacking that automated spam-bot?”
“‘Automated spam-bot’…?” Commander Kilfry repeated nervously.
As the Commander scanned the crowd of disgusted socialites he spied Scoomer smiling earnestly at him amidst the throng.
“I thought you told me this guy was Vesuvio Dong?!” Kilfry growled furiously at the multi-medium.
“What??” Scoomer exclaimed with unusually lucid bewilderment. “No I didn’t! You asked me if he was ‘him’, and I told you he was. Of course he’s ‘him’. I mean, who else would he be…”
Kilfry stared at the innocuous youth in muted disbelief.
“Scoomer,” he intoned gravely. “I am going to rape you with a shoe-horn.”
“Excuse me, ‘Commander’,” the large man interjected bitterly again. “But could I see your e-vitation?”
“I don’t have one,” Kilfry replied timidly. “But… Dame Yustroch will vouch for me!”
“Who in the hell is Dame Yustroch?” the man demanded. “And why the hell are you cavorting around my symposium with such a protrusive erection??”
Kilfry’s mind wheels slowly creaked into action.
“Yustroch was Vesuvio,” he said quietly to himself as two enormous bouncers descended on his frail digital representation. “La mia nemesi รจ diabolico…”

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