"Hail, Survivor!"
Seagulls wheeled overhead. The ship rocked restlessly with the tide, but no voice answered her. She turned back to the shore and waved jauntily at the newbies. Good lord, there were so many she had trouble remembering which was which. With any luck, they would distinguish themselves on this voyage.
She ran down the ladder belowships. "Survivor?" The low creak of timbers sounded as if the ship were a live thing champing at a bit. She listened for the sound of keyboard, or any other sign of habitation.
Nothing.
Frowning, MaryRobinette pulled the bosun's whistle from her Hatrack Utility belt. The sound shrilled through her skull, echoing off the inside of The Penmanship and reverberating through the written page. She held her breath, waiting for Survivor's familiar figure to appear.
Her heart rattled in her chest with sudden fear. Where was Survivor?
"Wasting your time, lass," the pirate said. "He be gone, your Survivor. Been nearly a fortnight, I reckon it."
"Do you know where?" said Mary, hoping the pirate proved friendly. If not, her HUB would not let her down.
The pirate shook his head. "Perhaps I can assist ye in his place?" A toothless grin formed on his leathery face.
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 19, 2005).]
"I've seen this Survivor of yours in passing," said the fool. "He looks impressive, true, but we are all able-bodied seamen...er, people...er, seathons! What can he possibly impart to us that we cannot learn on our own?"
The old hands merely smiled and nodded indulgently, and the newbie seemed acutely aware that the other newbies had quietly backed away.
Just before he deflated and slunk back in line, he appeared to mumble something in Mary's direction from the corner of his mouth. It sounded like "If you see him, though, I've got this story idea..."
All the more reason to find Survivor, and soon.
The sight of the disembodied limbs crawling around the floor made her shudder. She said, "Kitty, kitty, kitty," and Maggie, her radioactive cat, came from page seven to clear the decks of the old hands. She scampered after them like mice.
Which left MaryRobinette free to turn back to the pirate. "We haven't met. How is it you come to be on The Penmanship?"
Mary stiffened. He meant to steal the ship. Great. And she had a crew of newbies who didn't know if they were inside or outside. She forced a laugh and began to rifle through her HUB. Surely there was something in there to deal with a no-eyed, over-zealous pirate. . .
"You don't scare me with that. I've got no teeth, remember?"
Dang! He was right. MaryRobinette tossed the tube over her back. Behind her, a minor scuffle between rats broke out as they fought for ownership of the toothpaste.
Stalling for time, MaryRobinette said, "Why don't we start with names. All characters--at least speaking ones, anyway--need names."
"Aye. Can't argue there, princess."
"So? Are you going to tell me?"
"My name is Archibald Antonio Anderson. Some people call me Indigo, but I like to be called Crazy Pete."
Mary sighed. The pirate was a lunatic...
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 20, 2005).]
To gain time and distract the nutcase, she pulled a Purple Prose Phial from her HUB, and threw it at Snow White. It smashed against the pirate's lips, streaking violet goo down his chin.
Immediately Snow White began to speak, unable to stop, spewing forth flowery and detailed descriptions of the sun shining off the port bow, yet somehow unable to say anything which actually furthered the story . . .
[This message has been edited by autumnmuse (edited March 20, 2005).]
"Oh, no," said Mary. "This had better not be what I think it is."
"Arrrr," said Snow White when he recovered. "Running gags never die."
[This message has been edited by Jeraliey (edited March 20, 2005).]
Hastily, she invoked the Flashback spell. The Penmanship disappeared in a puff of black smoke.
#
"There's something wrong with this passage," MaryRobinette said, as she sat her computer. She considered. After a moment, she said, "Dakota would know what to do."
Mary blasted off a hasty email and waited for the response. In the meantime, she fed Maggie, and built a giant carp out of foam. When she returned to the computer, she read Dakota's reply:
Not sure how to fix this. Did you ask Survivor?
Survivor. Of course. Good idea, Dakota, thought MaryRobinette. She thanked Dakota, then sent an email to Survivor.
When Survivor failed to reply after two days, MaryRobinette knew something was horribly amiss.
Maybe, she thought, he's on the Penmanship. And if so, she could find him there.
Trouble was: The journey to Hatrack Harbour was perilous. If she survived the Valley of Split Infinitives, she would still have to traverse the Desert of Doomed Plotlines. That would take days!
MaryRobinette had no choice. She knew what needed to be done. She retrieved her HUB, kissed her husband goodbye, and left her Oregon home, heading bravely for the Valley of Split Infinitives.
"Shh...The slightest sound could split an infintive." Jerialey whispered to the group.
One brash, impulsive newbie swaggered to the fore, chest swollen to match his head. "But isn't it time to boldly--"
MaryRobinette wrapped her hand around his mouth, to safely keep the infinitive from dangerously splitting. "You heard the lady."
A newbie raised his hand, "But what's the big deal with infinitives?"
MaryRobinette sighed. There was only one way to safely explain this. She tapped a button on her HUB and opened a footnote.* Then she narrowed her eyes at Jerialey, and thought of a way to neatly ask her question without an infinitive. "Have you finished your med school application?"
Jerialey wrapped her hands in her hair and moaned. "I have to--" She stopped, her face paling, at the infinitive and started again. "They need basic training with Survivor."
MaryRobinette nodded. "We're going the same direction. I'll take them. You finish your application."
---
*While infinitives can weaken prose, a split infinitive has explosive power. The Valley of Split Infinitives was caused by the rift between "to" and "go". Since that explosion, the region has been inherently unstable. --Footnote provided by Mr. Bob "As You Know" Exposition.
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 20, 2005).]
"Look, Mary," she said. "It's partially done. I also brought a laptop with me so I can submit my primary application when the AMCAS site opens in April. Anyway, I can work on it while we travel, especially now that you've shown up to kindly help me with the newbies..."
Her eyes widened as she realized what she had just said. She clapped her hand to her mouth as a low rumble began to ominously echo from the far end of the valley.
"Jeraliey, you fool!" shouted MaryRobinette over the nervous whimpers of the newbies. "RUN!"
[This message has been edited by Jeraliey (edited March 20, 2005).]
The newbies stop and looked at the new comer and wondered who he was, after all he's wearing black wrap around shades and looks odd in his all black clothes.
"Who are you?" asks MaryRobinette perplexed
The stranger looks back and smiles. "The name is Monolith," as he ducks the first of many punches thrown by a group of newbies.
Monolith grabs the nearest newbie and says,"The first one of you that goes near those two ladies will have to deal with me!"
Throwing the newbie back to the crowd from which he emerged, Monolith turns and walks up the stairs to stand by MaryRobinette and Jerailey.
"As for the one named Survivor, I haven't seen that fellow for some time," Monolith said with a grin.
Jeraliey frowned, shook her head, and said, "Maybe the narrator knows?"
[No, I have no idea either... You're own your own, ladies.]
"Crap." Perplexed, MaryRobinette looked around for help. The newbies had nothing to say. "All right, fine. So we've got stairs. Where do they go?"
"Only one way to find out," said Monolith.
No one dared speak until Drew, one of the newbies, pointed down the other staircase. "I think someone is coming", he said. All strained to listen for what seemed to be the longest time. It seemed to be as if distant feet were coming closer, ever closer dragging their way exhausted from deep beneath the earth's surface.
Another newbie started to call out but her voice was drowned out by a strange scream, like someone was afraid for their life. Some of the newbies echoed the screams as someone or something approached the last flight beneath them.
Monolith came bursting through the doorway, followed by MaryRobinette and Jeraliey up the staircase and amongst the now terrified newbies, bowling them over like penguins on slippery ice.
For a while nothing could be heard except the jagged breathing of the three and the wimpers of the newbies. Then MaryRobinette sat up and slapped her head in frustration. "Damn! I should have guessed these would be Escher stairs!"
[This message has been edited by keldon02 (edited March 20, 2005).]
But they still had to traverse the Valley of Split Infinitives -- and it had been angered. MaryRobinette felt the rumbling of the ground and saw snow begin to move on the distant mountaintops. She had to get to the pass to the Desert of Doomed Plotlines before anyone else angered the valley with a split infinitive.
"Come quickly and don't say a word!" MaryRobinette cautioned. Judging from their expressions, she doubted they would remain silent for long. She broke into a run.
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 20, 2005).]
A rumble started to loudly thunder above them. "Look!" Keldon02 pointed at a boulder that rolled toward them as if in an attempt to painfully squash them. "That boulder is going to slammingly hit us!"
The infinitive split with a percussive explosion, hurling writers in the air. Keldon02 fell screaming in the chasm.
As the dust started to slowly settle. MaryRobinette extricated herself from a heap of the newbies. Jerialy lay on the ground a little away from them. Her fall had been safely cushioned by her application packet. "Whew!" She wiped her brow. "Thank heavens I had something to fall back on."
"I am splitting just for the hell of it infinitives..infinitives...infinitives!"
Rumble rumble rumble!
"I love splitting since it's such a poor way to write infinitives...infinitives...infinitives!"
Boom! Rumble rumble!
MaryRobinette peered into the distance. She could see the path she had already traversed snaking its way across the valley floor. And on that path, skipping along, flinging flower petals from a white basket, her golden hair tossing across her shoulders, the very earth cracking and crumbling beneath each fall of her feet, came...
[This message has been edited by djvdakota (edited March 21, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by djvdakota (edited March 20, 2005).]
Satisfied, he helped Jerialy up, and attempted to help with her voluminous tome. But she clung to it dearly now, as if suddenly realizing its true value.
The newbie had been quiet for a time, and not just because it had taken a split infinitive detonation to peel MaryRobinette's hand from his mouth. He'd been staring at the moral compass he'd found in his freshly issued HUB. For a time it had pointed dead on "hush and listen!", but a little fumbling uncovered that it also had a GPS (Grand Plot Synchronizer).
"MaryRobinette," said the newbie, "I thought I'd found something, but..." he glanced fearfully at the roiling approach of the flower flinger.
"If it's another split infinitive..." MaryRobinette said, raising her hand in a gesture that looked dangerously like something she'd learned from a ninja.
"No, no! It's the GPS on my moral compass. It says...oh damn it's spinning again. Here, somebody take this thing. I'm gonna go check out Goldilocks..."
Hope the GPS makes up for this oops.
Yeah, I know...back to hush and listen, newbie!)
She turned to comment to Jeraliey...or Jerialey...or Jerialy...or however you spelled her thrice-damned name, but Jer...whatever...was standing with her free hand to her temple, an expression of pain upon her face.
She wondered if the girl's sudden headache was due to her HORRENDOUSLY bad pun, or to the explosion which had felled her moments before.
It must have been the explosion.
[This message has been edited by Jeraliey (edited March 21, 2005).]
#
"We've got trouble, Master," said Agent Dread. Sweat poured from his brow. "That woman who plays with puppets is looking for him."
Master Munsil laughed. "Of course she is. She is doing precisely what I want her to do."
"But she's got help this time, and... newbies."
"Shut up, fool!" Munsil felt his face flush. Why didn't people trust him? He knew about the newbies; he had sent them there deliberately to foul up the plot and POV. "Dread, go fetch me a can of diet soda and be quick about it. The heat here is abominable."
"Yes, Master." Dread ran outside the tent, into the stifling heat of the Desert of Doomed Plotlines.
Master Munsil rubbed his hands together, then powered up his laptop. There was little time, the battery was low.
"Now, let's see how MaryRobinette deals with this." He pressed a key and let loose the next twist in the plot. He giggled. She would never find her Survivor now. The Spectre he loosed would see to that. Oh, yes. She wouldn't see it coming -- which was a nice thing about invisible monsters, when he thought more about it. It would steal her HUB, and Jeraliey's too, and then what would puppet girl and her silly friend do? Eh?
"Bwahahahahaahahahah!"
#
"Jer? Can you hear me? Please wake up." MaryRobinette fretted over her friend. She had been unconscious for an hour. What was wrong with her?
MaryRboinette was about to go back to Jerailey's side when she realized something. "An antagonist!" she said aloud. Where did he come from?
She went to look back through her HUB for some help but her hand brushed against empty air at her side. Her precious HUB was gone.
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 21, 2005).]
Apparently alone except for a handful of newbies and an unconscious Jeraliey, Mary turned her attention back to her newbie friend and had to stifle a gasp. Jeraliey's HUB was gone as well.
She heard a faint slurp and the sound of something liquid plop on the leaf-strewn ground.
#
Master Munsil growled. Somebody had given his perfect monster sound effects.
[This message has been edited by Keeley (edited March 21, 2005).]
########
Sitting alone in her home office, Christine shook her head in disgust. What kind of self-respecting antagonist let something like a laptop battery keep him from his fiendish plans? Everyone knew how proper antagonists were foiled. FIrst, they had to capture the protagonist, then they had to reveal their dastardly plan, and then they had to put the hero into an easily-escapable dangerous situation while they left the room, certain of their victory.
The spectre brought MaryRboinette and Jerailey's HUBs to Christine, who smiled in satisfaction, but she barely had time to sort through the items within when the cliche alarm sounded in her ears.
It hurt, but sometimes pain is just what a really good antagonist needs to get back on track. They would have a time stopping Christine now. In fact, she realized she may not even need to act at all. First, she would see how these Survivor-seeking fools fared against the Desert of Doomed Plotlines. If the desert ate them then fine, she could sit back and relax. But if they got through she would be on the other side, waiting to keep them from their ultimate goal.
Christine sat back in her chair, stroked her orange tabby cat, and watched.
########
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 21, 2005).]
She had a strange forboding that the plot was being manipulated by some unseen puppetmaster, especially since the cliche alarm had gone off, nearly bursting her eardrums.
Oh well. At least with clichés, I have a general idea what will happen. That doesn't mean it will be easy, but at least I have something to go on. Mary sighed, I really must find Survivor, and fast...
[This message has been edited by Robyn_Hood (edited March 21, 2005).]
"Darn newbies wouldn't even help me," she muttered to herself.
This would be difficult indeed.
"Glad to see you coming around; I could really use your help," MaryRobinette said.
Jerailey blinked a few times and trained her eyes on MaryRobinette's face. "Who are you?" she asked. She blinked again. "Who am I?"
Little did he realize in his condition, a cliche storm had been following him like fleas to a dog. The storm would swarm the group like locusts.
Just inside the cave was a well with a hand pump. A sign next to the pump said, "Next Well ... 40 miles".
"Would somebody give me a hand with Jeraliey? Please!" MaryRobinette demanded of the newbies, as none of them had helped even after Jeraliey had sort of come to. "Maybe we can fully revive her with some water."
A couple of the newbies dragged Jeraliey over to the well, while MaryRobinette started pumping. The cold blast of water jolted Jeraliey and she sat up quickly, sputtering.
"What happened? Where are we? Hey, where's my HUB?"
"Long story short, an infinitive was split, you got knocked out and now we're in the Desert of Doomed Plotlines," MaryRobinette explained. "Oh, and somehow our HUBs mysteriously disappeared."
"What about my med-school package?"
One of the newbies stepped forward and handed it to her. Relieved to see the nap-sack, Jeraliey immeadiately started rummaging through it.
MaryRobinette was puzzled, "Are you looking for something? Because I could really use your help to come up with a plan for crossing the Desert."
Jeraliey ignored Mary. "Ahem! Now isn't really the time for that! Jeraliey, I need your help!"
Suddenly Jeraliey gave a squeal of glee as she pulled out a box of pens from the bottom of her bag. "I knew it! I knew I packed them! MaryRobinette, you wanted help, well here you are."
"How is a box of pens going to help us?"
"These aren't just any pens, these are the Blade of Words pens I'm supposed to give to the newbies when they graduate from our adventure! It's not as good as having our HUBs, but it's better than nothing...At the very least they'll help defend us against the mirages of doomed plots out in the Desert."
"Jeraliey, I could kiss you." MaryRobinette grinned as she pulled a pen out of the box. Perhaps there was hope after all...
[This message has been edited by Robyn_Hood (edited March 21, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by Robyn_Hood (edited March 21, 2005).]
Now, a swarming cliche storm approahces on the horizon, Jerailey has lost her memory, and MaryRobinette notices the storm with dawning horror...
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 21, 2005).]
"There's no place like home," she heard herself whisper.
"NO!" Jeraliey screamed. "You have to hold it together, MaryRobinette! A chain is only as strong as its weakest l..." She clasped her hands to her mouth as the newbies began to surge forward. They were mesmerized by the storm, by the swirling cliches carried on its icy winds, calling them, calling them.
"Don't throw the baby out with the bathwater," she heard one mumble.
"Grasping at straws," another said.
"MaryRobinette! We have to do something!" Jeraliey shrieked.
But, alas, MaryRobinette did not answer. She too had become entranced by the vortex of trite phrases.
"There's no place like home!" Jeraliey screamed. "There's no place like home! There's no place like home!"
"If the other all newbies jumped off a cliff would you jump too?"
NO! the vortex is too strong! The danger of simultaneous posting scares him off and he crumbles like a house of straw.
Master Mike Munsil cursed like an Irish navvy. Dread stood there looking like a deer caught in the headlights. What a moron. "Dread! Get me a battery for my laptop. Now!"
Dread bolted out of the tent.
He had a nasty suspicion that someone had interfered with his plan. The Spectre had not returned with the HUBs. He swigged hard from his can of diet soda.
"So, now I've got two enemies, hmm..." He rubbed his chin. "Fine, then. I'll make whoever it was that messed up my scheme rue the day. Rue the cockadoodle day!"
Dread returned. He held out the battery with trembling hands. "Master?"
"What!"
"There's..."
"What you imbecile! Spit it out."
"There's been talk."
"And?"
"The other agents think you aren't doing a good job. Not that I--" Master Munsil slapped Dread.
"I don't care what anyone thinks. Now get out!"
Alone, Master Munsil paced inside his tent. He had to stop MaryRobinette from finding out the truth. But first, he had to find out who had commandeered his Spectre. Whoever it was, he or she would pay.
He replaced the battery in his laptop. "All right. Who is responsible.... for my ruining my cockadoodle day!"
#
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 21, 2005).]
"Oh Munsil. Munsil. Munsil Munsil. Rue the day?" Fortunately, she had muffled the cliche alarm with a pillow.
Still, Christine knew she would have to take action and fast. MaryRobinette and her gang of newbies might be preoccupied with the bad plots, but Munsil now had a new battery and would soon know that she had stolen the HUBs from under his over-large nose.
The HUB! Christine had the HUB and therefore a great advanatge. She dug through it and pulled out a proximity alarm for POV shifts. That would at least warn her the instant Munsil began plotting again. She turned it on and sensatized it to Munsil.
Then she found something else in the belt -- something she could not use, should not use. The Deus Ex Machine attachment. She could do anything with that, Christine realized with awe. She began to cackle again as she realized that she was now God in this story.
#
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 21, 2005).]
"Ow." She rubbed her hip and discovered that she had something in her pocket. It was onepktjoe's moral compass.
The needle pointed steadily due east, away from the sunset. It was showing them the way out of the cloud of cliches by avoiding the cliche of riding into the sunset. "Come on!" She grabbed jimmyjazz's hand. "Jimmyjazz, grab the next newbie. The only chance is if we all stick together."
It was like the blind leading the blind...which meant they weren't out of the cliches yet.
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 21, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by Robyn_Hood (edited March 21, 2005).]
Make a quick post that says "Writing... don't post." Then edit it, secure in the knowledge that your post will be next.
Alternatively, have this topic open in two different browser windows. Use one to write your scene. Use the other to refresh and see if anyone has posted. Personally, I like the first recommendation. It's like marking your territory. 
End Helpful Hint.]
"It sounds like someone has Deus Ex Machine attachment on his HUB", MaryRobinette said.
"It looks like not everyone has lost thier HUBs. Hummm..."
Jimmy looked in the direction MaryRobinette was pointing but nothing was there.
"My God", he thought, "I think she sees a mirage". "Jeraliey!" he called back but Jeraliey was the other end of the chain of newbies and too far off to hear.
Then something caught his eye in the direction MaryRobinette was pointing. Oh No! NINJAS!!!
"Look out! The NINJAS are MARKING THEIR TERRITORY!"
And indeed, the dread Ninjas were swiftly approaching, Red Pens in hand and intentions of editing on their minds.
Then she saw Elan was jumping up and down yelling something about ninjas.
"Oh no!" exclaimed Jeraliey, "A mirage... with those persistent ninjas!"
She rummaged through her bag and whipped out one of her Blade of Word pens and charged the nearest ninja, parrying his trust of banter and slashing through the veil of illusion. The ninjas were gone.
"Whew, that was close", she said.
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 21, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 22, 2005).]
"And that, is what you should do with your own prose. Cut out all the things that don't drive the plot forward."
MaryRobinette looked down at Joe's moral compass and grinned. "Speaking of driving the plot forward..." She dropped Jimmy's hand and ran followed the arrow on the compass past the spot where the ninjas had appeared, to a small wagon. "Here's our way out of the Desert of Doomed Plotlines."
Elan said, "But it doesn't have a horse."
Bounding onto the seat of the wagon, MaryRobinette shook her head. "It doesn't have to. This is Character-driven. A mileau or event-driven plot would just have us circling forever, but a character with a firm motivation can get drive through any plot holes."
The newbies and Jerialey clambered aboard. In moments they were driving through the desert focused on finding Survivor.
#
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 21, 2005).]
"Jaina? Wake up, Jaina!"
With a groan, Jaina did as she was told. "MaryRobinette? What are you doing here? I thought I was in Arizona... it was awful... I couldn't write!"
"That would be unusual, how?" Jerialey asked as she knelt down on Jaina's other side.
Jaina grinned. Ah, how she'd missed their causal banter! "It wouldn't. But now that you're here, maybe I can actually get something done!"
A sudden thought hit Jerialey, and she gasped. "You wouldn't happen to have your HUB with you, Jaina, would you?"
Jaina frowned and pulled out her battered HUB. "It's right here. Why?" But she didn't get her answer; MaryRobinette and Jerialey were too busy giving her a bear hug.
[This message has been edited by Jaina (edited March 21, 2005).]
Jaina looked up to the subject line above them. "Oh," she waved her hand to ward off MaryRobinette's foot, "I still have three more days. Right?"
Jerialey nodded. "You're still fine. Hop on the wagon with the rest of the Newbies. We're going to Survivor for basic training."
"Not to alarm you, Mary, but there are some serious continuity issues going on. I didn't want to tell you with so many newbies listening in, but right now they're distracted for a few moments by Jaina's cheerfulness. I'd say we have a couple of minutes, at least."
"I know," MaryRobinette said. "It is kind of entertaining to watch Eadwacer try to hit on her. But I've been trying to figure out what has been going on for a while. At first you were fine after the explosion. Then you collapsed. Then you woke up, lost your memory, and then regained it in time to remember your extensive fencing background AND help hold off the ninjas. I know that our concussion discussion, as well as rhyming brilliantly, gave us all kinds of good information about head injuries, but I think something bigger is going on."
"What do you think it is? I mean, as much as I love being heroic, you have to admit that it's just not right. I'm not too far off newbie status myself...I don't know what to tell the new recruits, and I can't think of any editing technique that will fix this...Unless!"
"What is it, Jeraliey? Notice I actually spelled your name right this time."
"An incident which confers continuity upon a seemingly random and individually written sequence of events! That could turn this whole thing into a harmless, and potentially humorous, plot device! Of course!"
"No, Jeri! You can't mean..."
Jeraliey blinked. "Who are you?"
MaryRobinette shook her head sadly and called Jaina over. "Here, help me take care of our friend."
"What happened to her? She was just fine a moment ago!"
"She turned herself into a subplot to resolve a continuity problem. I imagine she'll weave in and out of lucidity for the rest of the story, or at least until we can cure her. It was a risky move, but I think it worked. And now we have an obligation to her to find a way to get her back to normal."
Jaina looked thoughtful for a moment. Then her eyes widened.
"Mary, I saw a button on my HUB, marked Deus ex Machina! Could we use that?"
A collective gasp issued from the newbies. Jaina became red in the face.
"I just want my friend back, Mary."
"I know you do, hon." said MaryRobinette. "But it would be disrespectful to her to resolve her subplot in such a cheap way. No, we must find a way to resolve it ourselves. That's what she would want."
[This message has been edited by Jeraliey (edited March 22, 2005).]
Mary put a hand on Jaina's shoulder and, shooing a couple of newbies out of the way, made her sit down. "Oh, Jaina, I know you're upset. You've missed out on a lot here, what with being gone for a week and all. But we have an obligation to Jeraliey
to make this work for her. Don't you want to save her?"
"Of course I do. I just wish I was a skilled enough writer to figure out how. I feel so... helpless."
"I know, Jaya, I know. But you're not. You've got your HUB, it's time you learned how to use it."
[This message has been edited by Jaina (edited March 22, 2005).]
A short time later, they came upon two figures lying in their path in a crumpled heap. "What now?" said MaryRobinette.
As they got closer, they saw the brash, impetuous newbie, Onepktjoe. He didn't look brash or impetuous now, though. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. Beside him, a blonde girl lay motionless, flower-covered and bloody.
"How did you get here?" MaryRobinette asked.
"Blondy," he said, hooking a weary thumb at the bloody blond lump. "She showed me how to... you know ...take a shortcut. Tremendously useful in that rare spot, but you know, I'd never realized..."
"Just tell me what happened!" said MaryRobinette. "This is no place for digressive dialogue!"
"Right, sorry. Well, my ferret found this machinist's wrench," he said, "and I put an end to her." He smiled slightly and made to throw the wrench aside. "I never did find out who she was, but..."
"Wait, you fool!" MaryRobinette said, jumping from the wagon.
"Sorry, digressing again?"
"No...well, yes...but that's not what I meant," she said. "That's not a machinist's wrench. It's a Deus Ex Machinist's Wrench! It's one of the few things in existence that will pin down an unanchored, god-like plot twist. Don't you realize how useful that might be? Give it to Jaina, in case she gets tempted again, and...did you say, ferret?"
"Yeah," Onepktjoe said, pulling a small furry tube with legs from his shirt. "My ferret...Plotcoupons."
Oh, no! No messing with Plotcoupons in the desert!" said MaryRobinette. "Get in the wagon, we've wasted too much time already."
And they all continued on, trying to figure out what to do about Jeraliey, and what to do about finding Survivor...
[This message has been edited by onepktjoe (edited March 22, 2005).]
TaShaJaRo (who is going to shorten her own name because it's too difficult to type) was moved by Jeraliey's sacrifice. Only a true patriot of the craft would be willing to subject herself to that kind of torture. TaSha tried to think through the racket of the wagon and breath-stealing heat. Was there nothing to be done for the fair lady who risked all for newbies such as herself?
"I've got it!" Everyone turned to look at her and she gulped at her impetuous outburst. "Well, I think I do, anyway. Far be it from me to gainsay you, Captain Mary, but I think we're going in circles." Mary narrowed her eyes at this upstart. TaSha cleared her throat nervously and continued. "A motivated character can carry a story if he knows where he's going. Or she's going, in your case. A character who is motivated, but lost, is only go to travel in intricate circles, that while interesting, inevitably always lead back here," she finished with a sweep of her hand to indicate the endless desert.
"What we need is a map. The compass will help guide us but if we don't have a map to tell us where to go. . .we have no hope of surviving. There is plenty of room in the sand here to create the perfect mind map that will lead us out of this mess."
Mary seemed to consider it.
#####
Master Munsil clasped his hands in glee. "They are falling right into my trap! And it was so easy!"
All of a sudden, a prosimity alarm sounded.
"What is that?" he asked as the scene transitioned.
#
Christine woke with a start, her head still throbbing, her eyes still sensitive to light, her stomach still queasy. How silly of her to have picked the first trimester of her pregnancy to become evil.
It took her a moment to recognize the sound filling her mind. It was the proximity alarm she had set up for point of view shifts! Christine leapt from her bed and went to check that her plans were still intact. She still had her HUB, MaryRobinette and her foolish band of newbies still struggled with the desert, but Munsil seemed to be getting pesky again. She would have to do something about him. She had brushed him off as a nonentity but she had foolishly underestimated him.
Then she finished reading the backstory she had missed while she hid from the light under piles of blankets. They had a Deus Ex Machina Device too! At least they were too noble to use theirs. Christine fingered her own Deus Ex Machina Device. Maybe it would get rid of the migraines so she could think clearly. But no, it only seemed to effect actual story elements. Oh well, it had been worth a try.
"What I really need to do," Christine said to her tabby cats as she went to feed them, "is find Survivor first. Then I can put an end to all this foolishness. If I kill Survivor then eventually the newbies will all figure out the truth -- that they, too, can learn to help one another through the valleys, deserts, and oceans of writing."
"Luke... hump... Jimmy. I know you can hear me. I can tell by the way you post without fear of double posting.
Looking around at the others, Jimmy realized he was the only one that heard the voice.
"Jimmy. Come to the dark side. I see it is strong in you if only you would let it out. I need someone on the inside. There is another tring to wreck my plans and I need you to buy me some time so that I can find out who it is and destroy him."
"But I can't." Jimmy replied. "I am on a quest for Survivor"
"Survivor is a myth; A Boogie Man invented by the veterans to freighten the newbies."
Puzzled, Jimmy responded. "But I've seen his posts. Surely that can't be invented."
"It's just a bogus login one of the veterans pulls the strings."
Jimmy's mind began to swim. His very beliefs shaken to the core.
Then he caught sight of MaryRobinette and it clicked. "... one of the veterans pulls the strings."
"Make a fool of me will they?"
Just then the wagon passed the same dune for the third time and he knew what he must do.
"MaryRobinette!" he shouted. "Look! we have been going around in circles! See! Coming down the dune! Ninjas!!!
Everyone in the wagon turned to look. MaryRobinette was aghast as Jeraliey jumped up and grabbed for her pen...
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 22, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 22, 2005).]
He advanced on MaryRobinette, the pen trembling dangerously in his grip.
"You've been lying to us all along! This has all been some sort of trick to lead us astray, to destroy our creativity and strand us here without hope of rescue."
"Don't be a fool, Jimmy," shouted TaSha.
The wagon lurched dangerously as MaryRobinette tried to avoid the demented newbie.
A figure rose of the back of the wagon, armed only with the guidelines of critiquing. Jimmy slumped into a heap and RFLong stood over him, shaking her head sadly.
"I go away for a little while and look what happens around here. Is this some sort of mutiny? I had to disguise myself as a newbie to get back in. What has been going on here?"
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 22, 2005).]
Christine had no doubt that MaryRobinette and RFLong could handle the insane newbie. Meanwhile, she had bigger fish to fry. Using her Deus Ex Machina device, Christine wrote herself into the story.
She stood on the docks of Hatrack Harbor, well ahead of the band of newbies. Rumor had it that Survivor was out there, somewhere. Christine spotted a ship and made arrangements for the crew to set sail at once.
As the ship left the harbor, Christine looked out over the coast in the direction of the Desert of Doomed Plotlines. Munsil was still there, but she had left her cats at her computer to take care of him.
#
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[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 22, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 23, 2005).]
Somewhere along the winding course of the River of Dropped Threads, Dakota clung to a vine. The vine was short. The vine was slippery in her sweating hands. The vine was the only thing preventing her from falling into the roiling waters and jagged rocks of the river's chasm.
She had been hanging there a long time, and the only thing that kept her from relaxing her grip and forever easing the pain in her weak rotator cuff was the thought that if she survived---IF she survived---vengeance would be sweet. And who, dare you ask, would her revenge so gratifyingly fall upon?
mikemunsil. mikemunsil the rat. mikemunsil the traitor who had lured her here.
"Meet me at the Bridge of Continuity," he had said. "I have a new draft of Bridgetown I want to show you."
"Cool! I'll be there!" Dakota had replied. And she was. Except mikemunsil had no manuscript in his hand. Instead he had a backscratcher--one of those cheap pink plastic ones you can get only at elementary school carnivals. He tackled Dakota and held her down, tore her shoes and socks from her feet and tickled her mercilessly.
"Tell me your email password! Tell me, I say!"
At last, her sides aching from the laughter and the desperate inability to draw another breath, Dakota gasped it out.
mikemunsil stood, an evil leer smearing across his face like jam on a three-year-old. Then his hands, looming large as umbrellas, pushed Dakota into the chasm.
"Mwahahahahaha!" she heard him shriek as she scrabbled for a handhold among the many dropped threads draping over the rock wall. "Now she'll come to me! To me! Maryrobinette will come to me for help, and she'll think it's you all the time! Mwahahahaha!"
"Well, it's been done before, but the path is easily lost and littered with the corpses of those who couldn't keep their plotline strong."
"You mean to say that if we can't keep this storythread interesting, we're ... doomed?"
"Yes," said Jaina as she moved away from the ever approaching Ead, "and we WON'T do it with romantic interest."
"Look!" said Eadwacer, quickly changing the topic and leaving the romance to die in the desert. "What is that which can be seen upon the horizon? It looks like an oasis, perhaps we can relax and recover."
The palm trees were seen by the travelers and the water was illuminated by the sun. The newbies were tired by their long walk and were encouraged by the sight that could be seen.
"This place is not liked by me," was spoken by Jaina, "it seems dangerous."
The oasis was viewed by Mary. "That is called the Oasis of Passivity and it must be traversed by us before the desert can be crossed or Survivor found."
[This message has been edited by Eadwacer (edited March 23, 2005).]
Opening his eyes just enough to get a quick look around, he notices two things. First, RFLong was no longer standing over him and had gone forward to speak with MaryRobinette. Second, Jaina was dirtacted by Eadwacer's advances.
Seizeing on the opportunity, Jimmy reached up into Jaina's HUB and sneaked out the...
MaryRobinette and the other's had their attention pulled by Jerialey's voice. It was easy to see that Jerialey was still not aware of who she was, but some innate since of self preservation had drawn her to Jimmyjazz. She was steered away from him, while he was sat upon by several newbies. "That is one of the newbies. He has been taken by insanity, I am afraid," was said by MaryRobinette.
RFLong's HUB was searched by her. "Well, he can be tied with these, while the way out of the Oasis of Passivity is discovered by us." A set of fantastically colored furry dice were held jauntily by her.
The sight of the dice was causing MaryRobinette to hesitate anxiously. "I don't know. We might wind up with a Tom Swifty."
"Better the enemy that is known by you..."
"Wait!" Was called out by Jaina. "Would we be gotten out of here by this?"
She was crowded around by MaryRobinette and the others. A small hash mark was held by her. She was looking up with a smile. "This can be used to invoke the Raymond Chandler clause, right?"
"'Cut out the boring bits'." MaryRobinette was nodding. "Good thinking. That should be tossed on the ground by you, and the dull traveling scene will be skipped by us."
"What about him." A thumb was jerked by one of the newbies to Jimmyjazz.
"He has been mislead, so he will be brought with us when we can be speaking without passivity."
Without waiting a moment, the small hash mark was thrown to the ground creating a blank space. "This should be crossed by everyone." MaryRobinette said.
#
The other side of the section break startled all of them. Instead of the edge of the desert, they found themselves outside a surprisingly normal house. The mailbox said, "Amsden".
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 23, 2005).]
"I'm not sure, said MaryRobinette, "but this might be important. Jeraliey?"
"Who?" said Jeraliey.
"Er, never mind, Jaina, go knock and see if she's home."
Jaina walked to the door and knocked several times. When it didn't seem anyone would answer, Jaina looked back at MaryRobinette, shrugged, and then tried the door. It was unlocked.
"Might as well," said Jaina. Then she disappeared inside. The rest of the troop approached, and then crowded around the threshold. After a moment, Jaina came back. "There's nobody here, just a dangerous looking kitty sitting on the computer keyboard."
"This is all very confusing," said MaryRobinette.
"Do you still have that moral compass, MaryRobinette?" asked a much more rested looking Onepktjoe, as he shifted Jimmy from one shoulder to the other.
MaryRobinette pulled it from her pocket to show him she did.
"Hit the GPS," Onepktjoe said. "See if that helps."
MaryRobinette shrugged, and then hit the little red button on the compass...
[I never said the grand plot sychronizer was in good condition! If cutting this didn't fix the scrolling problem, then I don't know how to.]
[This message has been edited by onepktjoe (edited March 23, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by onepktjoe (edited March 23, 2005).]
"What is it? Where is she?" Jerailey asked.
"I don't believe it," MaryRobinette said. "It looks like she's set off from Hatrack Harbour ahead of us. I wonder what she's up to."
"Let me see," Jerailey said, peering over MaryRobinette's shoulder. She could see Christine's face peering back at her through the tiny GPS screen. In the background, she saw the boat.
The tiny figure in the screen rumaged through something at her side. She seemed to be looking for something. The next second, she pulled out what was unistakably a Deus Ex Machina Device.
"Hey!" MaryRobinette said suddenly. "That looks like mine."
"I don't believe it," Jerailey said.
"It seems as if we've found our nemesis," MaryRobinette scowled. "I wouldn't have believed it of her."
Suddenly, the figure on the screen smiled and waved as if she saw them. She opened her mouth to speak and they could hear her as clearly as if she were there. "Hey, what are you doing at my parents' house?"
"Your parents house?" MaryRobinette asked through gritted teeth.
"Well, my name's not Amsden, only my pen name," Christine pointed out. "Say, what are my kittens doing there? Put them back at my house." She waved the Deus Ex Machina device at them in a threatening sort of way.
"Put them back yourself," MaryRobinette said and she switched off the GPS.
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 23, 2005).]
{Thank you}
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 23, 2005).]
MikeMunsil sat in his desert pavillion carefully evaluating his master plan. The doomed plotlines of the desert were working; Jeraliey had turned herself into a subplot, that newbie Jimmy had been driven insane by an internal narrator and another newbie, Ray, hadn't even made it out of the cliché storm! It was all so terribly wonderful.
Now to completely cripple MaryRobinette, Mike thought. "Once she'e through the Oasis of Passivity, we'll see how far she gets without those newbies helping her -- besides, I think Survivor could use a cell mate..."
As MikeMunsil considered exactly how he would get MaryRobinette's newbies back to his castle dungeon in Bridgeland, Dread burst into the tent.
"Master...there seems to be a...problem," he huffed.
"What have you done now?"
"It's MaryRobinette, she's disappeared!"
[This message has been edited by Robyn_Hood (edited March 23, 2005).]
While she joined them in searching the house, Jerialey wandered over to the cats, "Hello kitties..." They hissed and spat at her but she did not notice their ire. She set her packet of med school applications down to pet them. The cats, upon seeing important papers, immediately jumped off the keyboard to sit on the packet. Jerialey knelt by them and her gaze fell upon the first page. "Applicant's name..." She picked the paper up, dislodging one of the cats and sat on the floor. The cat climbed onto her lap as she began reading.
#
Meanwhile, Dakota reached up for the plot thread above her, desperately tying it to the loose plot thread she held. When the two were securely linked, she climbed up and repeated the process. As her hand touched the next thread loose plot-thread, she gasped. It belonged to MaryRobinette and the newbies. As she tied it into the existing string of plotthreads, Dakota wondered how MaryRobinette had forgotten that she was caught in a flashback.
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 23, 2005).]
Munsil and his plastic backscratcher! When she caught up to him -- and she would, so help her-- she would take that evil tickling stick and jam it--
No, I need to think positively. I can't let my anger control me.
Yet the text of an early draft of "Bridgetown" exploded out from her memory and into her mind's eye. A vein throbbed on her temple... her fingers twitched.
"How dare he!" she screamed.
Rage. Unadulterated and fiery rage. She let it wash over her, bathed in its warmth. "Munsil..." she said without realizing it. "Mike Munsil, I'll get you for this if it's the last thing I do!"
Then the blackness consumed her.
#
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 23, 2005).]
Thanks a real bunch, guys! I suppose I'll end up dying a gruesome death at the hands of an editor?! Redlined into oblivion with that most cruel of editorial cuts, the dreaded "I sincerely hope you have a day job."?
"Whoever this chick is," said Jeraliey, "she's so full of crap that her eyes must be brown." She filed the packet in a desk drawer and wandered back to join the others.
#
[This message has been edited by Jeraliey (edited March 23, 2005).]
"What's this?" asked MaryRobinette suspiciously. Was it a double mocha latte from Coffee People? Or a soy Vanilla Frapacchino from Seattle's Best?
"No," Elan said. "It's more lethal than that. It's a triple espresso, straight, from Starbucks. And you will find that once it detonates, you - and everyone within a hundred feet of you - will be covered with a fog of James Mitchner minutia of detail. It will bury our villains, and most likely any kitties who have wandered astray. We'll be able to make our get-away under its cover. But I beg you, MaryRobinette, don't use it unless you are desperate. The espresso will keep you up all night, but you won't be able to write because you will be so jittery."
[This message has been edited by Rocklover (edited March 24, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by Rocklover (edited March 24, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by Rocklover (edited March 24, 2005).]
Crossing her arms over her chest she said, "Now did anyone find the Nom De Plume I asked them too?"
"Who knows?" she told herself. "I might even find Survivor out here! That would show 'em!"
With these comforting thoughts circulating throughout her sleep-deprived brain, she stumbled inevitably closer to the Quicksands of Recycled Remakes.
MaryRobinette pulled the feather out of the brim. A drop of ink beaded at the tip. "This must be Christine's Nom de Plume! Does anyone have any paper?"
One of the newbies stepped forward, holding a thick stack of paper in his hands. "I found this in a desk drawer," he said.
The Nom de Plume flew out of MaryRobinette's hand and began writing on the top page. Everyone gathered around to see what it was writing. "Holy mackerel!" shouted MCameron. "It's writing Christine's real name!"
Black? Not completely black, Dakota realized. Just a kind of hazy gray, something blocking the sun. And the thing blocking the sun threw her a rope.
"Hang on, Dakota. We've got trouble."
"HSO? Is that you?" HSO's strong hands pulled her to the top of the cliff and he helped her to her feet. She flung her arms around his neck and sobbed.
"The bastard tortured me until I gave him my email password!" she cried. "He said he was going to fool MaryRobinette into thinking he was me!"
"MaryRobinette? Torture? Who?"
"M-m-mikemunsil!"
HSO gasped. "It can't be! He's in South Dakota!"
"That's what I thought. But he called me. He said he wanted to meet me. He said he'd found a secret portal behind Teddy Roosevelt's glasses--whatever that means."
"Secret portal?" HSO was thoroughly puzzled.
"Sorry. I guess I've been down among the dropped threads too long. Overcompensating by throwing in unsupported plot twists."
"That's OK," HSO said, patting her on the back. "But what's this about MaryRobinette?"
"Hang on. Let me scroll down to that neat little screen-within-a-screen so I can quote him directly....Ah! Here it is:
quote:
"Now she'll come to me! To me! Maryrobinette will come to me for help, and she'll think it's you all the time! Mwahahahaha!"
"Well, has she? Has she come to you for help?"
"How the hell am I supposed to know! I've been hanging onto dropped threads all day!"
"Sorry."
"Seriously, though. What possible harm can he do? If MaryRobinette asked him for advice he'd probably just tell her to 'ask Survivor.' As if HE knows everything."
"Survivor!" HSO smacked himself on the forehead. "He's why I came looking for you! He's missing!"
Dakota paled. "Missing? When..? What..?"
"I don't know. He's supposed to be Captaining the Penmanship on its next newbie training run. He never showed up. MaryRobinette's supposed to be there in a couple of days with about 30 newbies--and no Survivor! You're the only other one who could possibly captain the Penmanship, Dakota."
"Me?!?"
"Of course--what with all that work you've done to organize the Rewrite Challenge! [Yes. That was a shameless plug ]"
Dakota rolled her eyes. "Give me a break, HSO. No one every participates--just me and Robyn Hood and Keeley. Yanos last month..."
HSO grabbed her by the elbows and shook her. "But look at the goat stories, Dakota. They're finding ports all over the place..."
"No! I can't do it!" She turned and stalked away from him. He jogged to catch up.
"But, Dakota..."
"We'll just have to find Survivor. And if we happen to bump into mikemunsil on the way..."
HSO smiled a grim smile and smacked his fist into the palm of his other hand. "I'll pummel him for you."
#
[This message has been edited by djvdakota (edited March 24, 2005).]
"It sure is a dog eat dog world! Big Brother is watching you! It's a small world after all!"
A sad state for the poor newbie. Alone in his moment of crisis.
And then his cell phone rang.
Cell phone? He didn't own a cell phone. But in his addled condition, Ray didn't comprehend that and answered, "Hello, how may I help you today?"
"This is the Feathered Monkey."
"Help me, Feathered Monkey, you're my only hope."
"Blast! Are you so far gone?" said the Monkey.
"The lights are on, but nobody's home."
"Stop talking and stretch out the hand that's holding the phone!" Ray complied and then the Feathered Monkey shouted into the wind. It spoke clear cut sentences that meant what they said (anti-cliches, if you will.) The tornado could not handle what was being said and suddenly spit Ray out.
He flew for miles on end. Finally, after minutes of travel, he fell and incredibly landed in the same ship that Christine had set sail in. Landing painfully on his back, Ray blacked out. When he woke, he saw Christine standing over him (though he didn't know who she was, and in fact, wouldn't have recognized her with his wits still gone after being in the storm for so long.)
"Who are you?" asked Christine.
"I'm Ray," he said. Some of his memory came back. "I'm looking for Survivor, but lost my group."
"Are you one of the newbies?"
"Yes."
She smiled. Now she had one of them in her grasp. What luck!
Christine's real name...
They peered at the wierd collection of symbols. To many of them, it was unlike any script they had ever seen before. But in names, particularly true names, there lies power and RFLong had enough of the celt in her to realise this.
"If we can just pronounce this, it will give us control over Christine," she said, in a worryingly Druidic tone. "Eadwacer, stop pining after Jaina and get out your textbooks again. We've got translating to do!"
[This message has been edited by RFLong (edited March 24, 2005).]
Christine's cat, Delenn, yowled in disgust. She counted....one, two, three, four, at laeast five divergent plotlines. Almost none of the character had a clear purpose any longer, not even MaryRobinette and her newbies who had begun this quest.
I've got a cat brain and I can figure out that this story is a mess, Delenn thought. Oh well, I also know what to do. Christine set me the task of watching the story while she was away on the ship and fixing anything that went wrong.
Delenn put one paw on the keyboard but unlike finger, it was maladept at typing. She hissed in frustration and decided it was time to contact Christine directly.
#
Christine was apparently smiling evilly down at a newbie who had just come into her presence when she heard the call of her cat. She stopped, shook her head, and came to her seneses.
"I'm not here to hurt newbies," she remembered, "I'm only here to help them by getting rid of Survivor." She wiped the evil smile off her face as it did not suit her anyway, and went to talk to her cat.
"What is it, Delenn?"
"Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
"The story is falling apart?" Christine said. "How can that be?"
"Meow. Meow. Meow. Meow."
"Divergent plotlines? Dangling Threads? Too many point of view characters? POV violations?"
Christine stared down at her stolen HUBs and for the first time felt a certain amount of guilt. "I just wanted to get to Survivor first," she mumbled, "I want him out of the way or these newbies will never learn their own power. I don't understand why MaryRobinette even thinks she needs Survivor. Where would she have gotten that idea?"
"Meow. Meow."
"Munsil?" Christine said. "No one would listen to him."
"Meow. Meow."
Finally, Christine understood. "I'm still going to get to Sruvivor, but I'm afraid it will have to be a fair fight."
She called back the spectres and handed over the stolen HUBs. "Take these back and get this story straightened out, will you?"
The invisible spectres had nearly gone when Christine had another idea. "Here," she said, handing them a tiny little gobling statue. "Get this to Munsil. It's an editor-on-the-shoulder. It should keep him tied up for a long time."
Satisfied that she had done all she could to get the story back in order, Christine went below decks to sleep off her seasickness, completely ignoring the bewildered newbie.
#
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 24, 2005).]
His phone rang again. He had recovered enough to realize that he'd never gotten one, but he answered it again.
"This is the Feathered Monkey again. You are no longer in danger but Survivor needs help. You must find a way to contact MaryRobinette."
"How? I'm just a newbie."
"You've got a phone, moron." It hung up.
Ray stared at the cell phone and wondered just how he was going to get a hold of MaryRobinette. The phone didn't have any numbers on it.
[This message has been edited by Ray (edited March 24, 2005).]
"Don't start, Newbie," said MaryRobinette.
"Listen," said Onepktjoe. "You have my undying loyalty. But the forces against you seem insurmountable. We might've fared better with TaSha's mind map--the obscure Russian style master Outlinem Lestulayaneg called them "mental maps," he..."
"Digressing..." said MaryRobinette.
"Sorry. I mean, we've come too far for any of that," said Onepktjoe.
Looking at the newbies, it was easy for MaryRobinette to believe they were imagining the Bottomless Pit of Unread First-time Authors yawning beneath their feet.
"A legend, though?" MaryRobinette said.
"Perhaps something can awaken him, or cause him to cast off whatever chains that bind him," said Onepktjoe.
"Like spinach for Popeye!" said Jeraliey.
"Yes! That you remember? asked Onepktjoe.
"We don't have any spinach," Jimmy said from Onepktjoe's shoulder.
"No...sorry, Jimmy." Onepktjoe set Jimmy down. "I mean, perhaps one thing will cut across the boundaries of unworkable plot and summon Survivor from across the boards, even from the very depths of hell if need be."
MaryRobinette took a step away from the insane newbie.
"Yes," said Onepktjoe, eyes gleaming with madness. "You'll have to segue into poorly written, unjustified omniscient POV. Survivor won't be able to resist!"
There was a gasp from the newbies. Onepktjoe seemed to hold his breath, waiting on MaryRobinette's judgement...
[This message has been edited by onepktjoe (edited March 24, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by onepktjoe (edited March 24, 2005).]
The heat of the Desert of Doom Plotlines scorched their skin. Dakota and HSO stood before a large, sun-bleached green tent. From within came the unmistakable furious sounds of fingers dashing across a laptop PC keyboard. Every now and then they heard a howl of anguish, which they knew could only come from an author with writer's block. Dakota and HSO hesistated.
"I think that's Munsil," said HSO.
"Me, too. Should we go in?"
"I'm ready to pummel, if that's what you're asking."
Dakota breathed in the hot, dry desert air. The thought of pummelling the rat gave her some small measure of happiness, but it just wasn't her style. She had always been a nurturer, a caregiver; someone to be respected. People looked up to her for guidance, and if she allowed herself any satisfaction over erasing Munsil from the story, what would people then think?
Still, Munsil had tickled her with that blasted backscratcher. He deserved something.
But what?
"Look," said HSO, "I'm ready to do this. But I sense you're holding something back."
"True. It's just..."
"What?"
Dakota considered. This was her defining moment. Who was she going to be? Someone who cared about people, even if they did happen to be evil? Evil people needed love, too, didn't they? She couldn't decide. It was too much. Besides, her sides still ached from the tickling.
"All right, Dakota. I'm going in with or without you."
"No, wait!"
"What's it going to be, then? Are you in or out?"
"I don't want to hurt him. I just want him to write a publishable draft of "Bridgetown." That's all I care about."
HSO seemed uneasy. His fists clenched and unclenched. He scratched at his right ear, then his left. "Okay. I'm with you."
"Good, let's critique his tale and get the boy published. I have a suspicion that he's only evil because he's been rejected so often. If we show him he can be an author, then maybe he'll give up his dastardly ways and help us on our quest."
"I think you're expecting way too much," HSO said. "But if it works, then Munsil can undo everything that has happened up to this point."
"That's my point. He can erase it all. Then, MaryRobinette will be back on the Penmanship as if this flashback never happened."
"Brilliant."
Together, their purposes united, Dakota and HSO entered the tent. They found Munsil there, his laptop held high above his head. He seemed ready to smash it down onto the ground."
"No! Wait!" Dakota cried.
#
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 24, 2005).]
"Give that to me," Christine said as she snatched the phone out of Ray's hand. She tossed it over the side of the ship.
"Hey!" Ray said. "I needed that to get in touch with MaryRobinette."
"Well, you're just going to have to come up with a way that is realistic. Didn't anyone teach you the value of realism in your stories? You can't just all of a sudden have a cell phone if you didn't have one before. For that matter, where the heck is the nearest cell tower? We're out in the middle of the goshbedanged ocean! Now, if you want to get in touch with MaryRobinette you're going to have to do it the hard way."
"But don't you see?" Ray said. "I need to get in touch with her so I can find Survivor so he can hepl me work out these plot inconsistencies."
A scream threatened to rip from Christine's throat, but she just managed to hold it at bay. "You don't need Survivor you moron!" In frustration, she kicked him and caused him to fly over the side of the ship. He landed in the water with a loud splash.
Christine immediately felt guilty but there was nothing she could do. Maybe he would be able to swim back to his precious MaryRobinette and her silly quest. Meanwhile, she was more determined now than ever to put an end to this infantile need for Survivor's commentary.
#
[This message has been edited by Christine (edited March 24, 2005).]
Perhaps I should go back? But she rejected that thought immediately. She had too strong a sense of pride for that. Besides, at least out here she was away from Eadwacer's advances... he was nice, but she had other prospects that she might actually have a chance with, thanks.
Before her line of thought could go any further down that path, though, she passed out.
[This message has been edited by Jaina (edited March 24, 2005).]
"This is what you get when people are allowed to write about their own 'characters'," she sighed.
With a creeping sense of dread, MaryRobinette looked at the Newbies around her. "Where's Jaina?"
Eadwacer nearly jumped out of his skin. "Don’t look at me. I was just talking with her about her lustrous hair and luminous eyes and then thought that I needed to protect you from the villainous advances of Jimmyjazz."
"So, you're saying you don't know." When he nodded, MaryRobinette looked around the dwindling group of Newbies. It happened every year. A promising new crop would spring up and then vanish. Still, Jaina had not seemed like the type to succumb to the standard attrition. MaryRobinette rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, let's hope she comes back on her own. Meanwhile, let's look at the name that the nom de plume wrote." She patted McCameron on the shoulder. "Good job staying on track, by the way. I'm glad one of you could do that." She glared at the other Newbies. "RFLong, can you pronounce this?"
Taking the paper from MaryRobinette, RFLong studied it. "I believe I can. It is based on an ancient--"
She broke off as a pile of HUB's dropped into the center of the group, as if from thin air.
"Woo-hoo!" MaryRobinette threw her hands up in the air. "Nicely done, RFLong."
RFLong colored editor-red and smiled. "Thanks." She turned the paper over in her hands. "I didn't do anything."
"You got the HUB's back." MaryRobinette said, as she buckled hers on. "Now we can go to Hatrack Harbor to see Survivor."
If she had realized that the day was going to be a novel instead of a short story she would have done an outline. As it was, she would just have to push through to the end. "Let's head out!" She could not wait to hand these Newbies over to Survivor.
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 25, 2005).]
Master Munsil fell to his knees, still holding his laptop over his head. As he looked at Dakota and HSO standing just inside the tent flaps, he knew the jig was up. They were here to erase him -- to finish him off before he could write the final twist in the plot. He had had a plan, but somehow the story got a life of its own; it had spiralled out of control and he didn't know how to stop it anymore. He didn't want to be evil now. Evil was hard work--harder than being good anyway.
Hot tears streamed down his cheeks as he carefully let his arms down; the laptop resting upon his knees. Munsil gave up.
"Oh, crumbs," said HSO, "not a crying scene."
"Shh," Dakota said. "Let him cry. He needs to let it out before we can help."
Quietly, HSO said, "Villians aren't supposed to cry. They're supposed to cackle evilly."
"Mike isn't a villian. He's just misunderstood. We have to help to him now, in this time of need, this one-and-only moment of weakness. If we don't--"
Listening to them talk about him, Munsil felt guilt welling up inside him -- consuming him. "You can't help me," said Munsil. "No one can now. I've done bad things. Very bad things."
"We can and we will help you."
HSO took a step forward. "Yeah, dude. So, like... stop blubbering. You're going to make me cry at this rate -- I can't stand to see people cry or be in pain. That's why I chose not to be a doctor or a veterinarian. It wasn't death or blood or anything like that. That I can deal with. No, it was watching people--"
"HSO! We're here for Mike; this isn't the time to bring up your problems."
Munsil wiped away his tears. "No, Dakota. He's right. I need to stop feeling pity for myself." Yet inside he cried out to be held like a child. He pushed his feelings back. "So what do I do now?" he asked.
"First," said Dakota, "you need to--"
A gunshot rang out inside the tent. Everyone jumped. Through watery eyes, Mike saw Agent Dread standing behind HSO and Dakota. Fear and adrenaline coursed through him, each fighting for chemical dominance, and making him feel dizzy.
"Not so fast, Master Mikey," said Dread. "I can't let you do this. If you're not going to be evil, then I'll just take your place."
"No, Dread," said Mike. "It's over. It has to be over. Don't do this."
Dread laughed. "For days now, I've been the patsy; getting your diet soda, running away when you threw a tantrum. I'm sick of it. I'm going to finish this here and now, starting with..." Dread pointed the gun at HSO. "Him!
Mike saw the flash, heard the shot. "Noooo!" HSO stumbled backwards, clutching his chest. Dakota caught him, preventing his fall. HSO died a moment later. Mike screamed, "What have you done?"
"Only what you should've done already," said Dread, now pointing the gun at Dakota. "She's next."
Mike watched. Helpless. He had no weapons. Nothing to stop Dread. Dread was preparing to squeeze the trigger, an evil smirk on his face.
And then Mike realized he did have a weapon after all: his laptop. There wasn't time to write anything, but it was heavy enough to do serious damage if he threw it at Dread. Without delay, he flung his laptop...
It whirled; a flash of black plastic, spinning towards its target: Dread.
Mike had time for only one thought: Please don't let him kill Dakota...
[This message has been edited by HSO (edited March 25, 2005).]
Meanwhile, as the newbies where leaving Christine's parents house, Onepkjoe spoke up. "MaryRobinette, my shoulder is really starting to hurt. Can I get rid of this heap?"
MaryRobinette thought a moment. "Well, he has been behaving himself but that may be because he's all tied up. Jimmy, do you think you can behave your self?"
Jimmy looked up. He had been hanging there so long the blood and been pooling in his brain. He saw the furry dice through tracers and thought he was having flashbacks from his more experimental years. He noticed he was hanging over some guy's shoulder and his eyes grew round. "Oh, no not that flashback!" He thought. "No, my rear's not sore. Whew!"
That sobering memory brought him back to MaryRobinette's question. "Yes," he said "I think I'm better now. I promise to behave"
With that, MaryRobinette had Joe put Jimmy down and untie him. Cautiously she handed him his HUB. "Lets Go!"
Jimmy strapped his HUB on, adjusted his suspenders and after a few unsteady steps, they where off.
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 25, 2005).]
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 25, 2005).]
Though he wanted to meditate on the experience, his innate sense of storytelling told him that a Hatracker was in trouble. He sniffed the wind. Three Hatrackers to be precise.
Without wasting a moment, he drew his blade of words and cut straight to the conflict.
#
Meanwhile, Dread scoffed at the writhing figures on the floor. "Now to deal with MaryRobinette and the Newbies!" He pulled a pirate mask on headed for The Penmanship.
[This message has been edited by MaryRobinette (edited March 26, 2005).]
Aboard The Penmanship, Dread arrived just as MaryRobinette was coming back on deck. He chuckled to to himself as she brought out her bosun's whistle and blew a long, steady note. He gave a little cough to get her attention. It took everything in him to keep from laughing out loud at the way the look of anticipation on her face melted into dismay. "Wasting your time, lass," he said. "He be gone, your Survivor. Been nearly a fortnight, I reckon it. Perhaps I can assist ye in his place? Arr!" he exclaimed, "What be this?"
[This message has been edited by jimmyjazz951 (edited March 27, 2005).]
HSO lay on the floor in a pool of blood, conscious, but knowing that death lay moments away. Dakota, already unconscious, and slipping fast, had collapsed just outside the door. And MikeMunsil, horrified at what he was writing, had fainted, and was just now coming to. Where am I? he wondered.
Survivor had no way of knowing whether Mike was injured as badly as the other two, but he decided that he would use the pellets on the characters who had not had delusions of evil. With a quick flip of his wrist (in a move he'd perfected from thousands of hours playing Minesweeper) he cast the pellets over Dakota and HSO. They both sat up immediately, grinning from ear to ear.
MikeMunsil saw them, and practically fainted again. "But, you were both shot! And HSO, you were dead."
"Not quite," Survivor corrected. He wondered when these people would learn. "If you'll recall, Mike, that post was from your POV. So when it said that he was dead, it only meant that you thought he was dead. Now, THIS post is in omniscient, so we can tell that everyone is alive and thinking. Right, gang?"
"Well," HSO said, "I can't tell that MikeMunsil is thinking."
Mike was offended. That pleased HSO no end. He'd never felt better.
Dakota had felt lots better, but she didn't want to complain. Instead she asked, "Has anyone seen my cigar?"
"I think you left it in Reykjavik," Mike said.
During all of the excitement Ray, who had been swimming since Christine kicked him overboard, climbed over the rail. Quickly sizing up the situation, Ray tackled Dread from behind and, with a little help from MaryRobinette and Jaina, tied up.
Cheers went up from the shore where the newbies waited. One face in the crowd drew Jaina's attention. The way Eadwacer beamed at her with an especially broad smile, made her blush.
As she fought her way back to consciousness, she heard voices, and one sounded like...Survivor's? Instead of relief at the tempting realization that she might be able to frame this story by taking it back to the beginning and just ending the whole thing, a new fear overcame her: Had enough newbies survived to crew the Penmanship? She thought she must have voiced her fear in her near delirium, because she heard Dakota murmuring to her, "Don't worry. We'll just go to the 'First, Please Introduce Yourself' thread for more newbies."
Brushing the red hair from MaryRobinette's brow, Dakota said, "What is it?"
"There's still a loose thread out there." She swallowed. "Christine..."
---
Stay tuned for the next exciting episode: The Betrayal of Christine
Christine climbed the thread, hand over hand, inching her way towards the thread, trying not to remind herself that she had never managed to do even one pull up in gym class and that she had not a whit of upper arm strength. Adrenaline commanded her body now.
It was too late for her to kill Survivor. She knew that. She would have to find another way. Perhaps she could convince the people on board that she meant well. SHe had returned the HUBs after all. They might believe her. Then she would -- well, she was not sure what she would do about Survivor but she was sure she would find a way if she used patience and cunning.
"Hey, there's someone climbing up to the ship!" someone from above called.
"Help!" Christine called. She was nearly there now. She might even make it.
"Hey, wait a second. Aren't you the antagonist in this story?"
Christine could not identify the voice. It was probably one of the newbies. "I meant well," Christine said. "I gave you back your HUBs."
"I don't know..."
"I'm pregnant," Christine tried. That always got people to help. Just to make it absolutely clear, she emptied her lunch into the ocean below.
"Come on, let's help her aboard."
With the assistance of several newbies, Christine managed to make her way up on deck. She felt miserable. She had been dangling by that thread for a long time. As she panted and tried to catch her breath, a familiar shadow approached.
"Welcome back," MaryRobinette said.
Christine gave her a weak smile. If only they could understand that it was their own interests she was trying to protect. But they would not understand.
Then, from behind MaryRobinette, came another familiar form.
"Hello, Survivor," Christine said.
After all, his evil plans were proceeding very nicely, and the ninjas had revealed nothing of importance while carrying out their assigned tasks 
