NationStates Jolt Archive

I present a series of vignettes into life in the HEWC! I do hope you enjoy. If you have any questions, please do contact me.
__________________________________________________________

A Park, Outside Sohi City, The Water Cooler
Late Evening, Present time.

The sun set.

Golden rays filtered in gently through the trees giving the lone figure a soft warm hue. As he sat crossed legged in the grass a cat purred contentedly as it brushed past him, trying to seduce a pat out of the old man.

He heard a soft thud behind him; and then the giggle of youth. He heard – no, he felt the footsteps, as loud as falling tree trunks in the quiet of the park - despite the youths intended stealth, make their way close to him.

Despite his wizened appearance his grinned wickedly. Just a few more steps, the sitting figure thought.

Suddenly he jumped up and span around, his face screwed up into a bizarre scary face. He stuck his tongue out, and went ‘ptttfffff’ at the youth.

But, no-one was there. He picked up his cane and waved in through the air. Finding nothing he stopped and listened. Nothing. His face quickly resumed its normally expression.

He had been sure he had felt someone though. As he heard the bell of the nearby monastery sound, once, twice, three times he looked around, a reflex action more then anything else. His sight had left him at his 70 birthday. Yet as if to balance the loss, his other senses had only grown more sensitive.

Picking up his robe he threw it around his shoulders and hobbled away. As he reached the gate he turned back, facing the park, and quickly made a sign of exorcism. Shuddering slightly he hobbled off, weaving his way through the evening traffic.

Advanced Health Systems, Undisclosed, The Water Cooler
Afternoon, Present time.

Atticus paused.

By all means he was a successful man. He had a double doctorate in Biological Systems and Advanced Immunology. He earned §400,000 a year. He lived in an elite community, had a perfect wife, and three darling little children. He drove he latest cars, eat the finest food, wore the finest clothes, and attended the most exclusive events.

And yet, despite all of this. He wasn’t happy.

He looked absently at his §3000 Omega-Cooler watch. It ticked. Tick. He looked around the cafeteria as his fellow workers eat merrily, shovelling food into their mouths like greedy animals. Disgusted he got up leaving his Roast Beef and foie gras pasta, now cold.

He stormed back to his lab, ignoring the bemused looks of his idiot colleagues. Reaching his hermetically sealed lab, he smelt the familiar smell of disinfectant. It wasn’t a displeasing smell.

Switching on his moniter he saw the results of the latest strain. Human bodies lay in heaps on the ultrawhite floor of the lap. Occasional one would convulse, and trying to move, but to no luck.

He reached for his microphone

“What’s the kill rate?” He asked a man in a Hazmat suit as he hosed the figures down.

“Nearly 89% Much better then Strain-XY4. Still, we are getting far too much faecal emissions. Plus the director wants a high DNA targeting rate. This batch was pretty bad in that regard.”

“Hmm. Your right. Clean out this lot, and we will start again.” The figure looked through the triple diamonplex, although his visor obscured most o his face, a cruel, sick smile could be seen on his lips.

A few moments later, the figure had exited the room, and was standing next to Atticus smelling strongly of the disinfectant.

“Shall I” He said reaching for a red button on a console.

“Sure” Atticus replied, his stomach lurching. He was beginging to imagine what the source of his discomfort was.

With a dull beep the button was depressed. Shutters, thankfully, then rolled over viewing window blocking out the process that was only known as ‘Cleaning’. He thought he could hear the screams of the bodies, and then a wave of immense heat. Then nothing. As the shutter opened again a mixture of acids where being sprayed on every surface.

After the decontamination process had finished a group of 20 blindfolded people – children, teenagers, the elderly, males, females, even a baby where forcible lead into the room.

He felt bile at the back of his throat.

The doors closed behind them men, leaving the new test group wondering why they where here. A few sat crying, a few walked around angrily. The rest just sat, dazed.

“Ah, a fresh batch!” The man standing next to Atticus said excitedly. He pressed the button and the digital cameras recording every angle I the test room started to record. He then pressed another button marked “Biological Agent Delivery System.” A second later a fine mist sprayed on the figures, covering them. Sealing their fate.

Atticus emptied his lunch over his shoes.

is this an on going story or can anyone add to it?

is this an on going story or can anyone add to it?

((For now it's a me posting only type o' thing. That may change, but for now, just me. :)))

Machu-Pihu Desert Testing Ranges, The Water Cooler
Early Evening, Present Time.

The three gun-ships paused in midair.

To the men hidden on the ground under thermal netting they resembled oversized wasps. Without any warning the helicopter group split up, each helicopter going a separate way. The men knew not to rush out; they weren’t going to fall for the same trick twice.

Sure enough another helicopter, this time flying low to the ground shortly flew over. This helicopter was different however, where the others where super mobile and wasp like this one looked more sedentary. Powerful forward facing Vulcan canons and missile pods where the main weapons. However, a new device had been affixed to the helicopter. It looked like a squat radio antenna.

The leader of the men froze. Whispering as quietly as he could into his radio he said “Watch out – looks like they decided to employ the new weapon after all.”

The new weapon was the latest anti-personal system. It consisted of a powerful microwave emitter that fires highly energised focused beams at an organic target. The result where – unpleasant. However such beams require immense power and that was the helicopters main weakness.

In order to provide sufficient power the traditional power plant had to be removed and replaced with a more powerful, albeit more unstable generator. This led to a weak spot on the unit’s rear, where the converted power plant didn’t yet have armour plating. All it would take was a few rounds, and bang, the helicopters generator would overload, and the target would be neutralised.

Getting in position was another story.

The leader quickly looked around. Aside from a small depression 200 hundred metres away the area was remarkably flat, with little cover. Especial not from the powerful sensors in the nose of the craft, that was now ominously circling the area.

He made a hand signal towards a man on his right, which was then repeated until it reached the person on the right.

After a second the man had unstrapped a small box from his leg, and prepared to throw it on the opposite direction from the man, in order to attract the attention of the copter, and give the men a few seconds to get in position to make the shot.

In the second before he threw it his arm slipped for a fraction of a second outside of the thermal netting. That was all it took. The monstrous helicopter quickly swung around and fired its microwave array.

A few seconds later speakers attached to each man breast started to play

“You are dead! You are dead! You have just been killed by the 233rd Advanced Aeronautical Tactics Division! Game Wardens will pick you up shortly! Thank you for playing!” A female voice said over and over mockingly.

The leader of the men swore as two APCs appeared over the horizon, kicking up clouds of dust as they sped towards them. He stood up and brushed the red dust of his combat fatigues.

“Good game everyone. O’ja. Bad luck about getting us killed!” Although he said it good naturedly, the seriousness behind what he said was not lost on the group.

Still practise makes perfect…He thought. And he hoped.

Profile: Club d’ L’ Auralis, Soba City, The Water Cooler

Money, seemingly, oozed from the building.

The Club was on of the Water Coolers most prestigious. It’s members where the type of people that had no need for additional money; in fact if it wasn’t for their massive drive, someone call it ‘greed’, they all would have retired sometime ago. And yet the continued, building commercial empires, amassing billions upon billions of dollars.

Entry the club was automatic once the individual made their first Ten Billion. However in the coming two years they had to double that figure or risk explusion. Surprisingly in the clubs one years of operation no one had been expelled because of that stipulation.

However there are other causes for expulsion; permeant expulsion. One ‘Redgrift Johanon’ found this out the hard way when he attempted to plant recording devices under the table of his main competitor, ‘Hans Rer’. The club’s management was quick to make an example of him. Pieces of the body are still being found.

It is unknown, even amongst the shadowy world of Corporate Intelligence who exactly runs the club. Rumours are abound, some claim it is the CEO of Credit Dauphine, and some claim it is Hans Rer himself. A more left-field explanation is that the Emperor runs it himself.

The building, aside from featuring the usual ‘gentlemanly’ outlets (a bar. And another one) features four helipads, executive penthouses, a 24-hour Plastic Surgeons, and several other classified member benefits. The rumours that a brothel exists inside the building for some of the more lascivious members has been categorically denied by the management, however Metro Police Alpha believes otherwise

It is an interesting situation between the state authorities and the club. In the incredible policed Water Cooler few are able to secure such freedom as the club. This could be explained by that fact that Aelo Trumps, the Finance Minister is also a member of the club. Nevertheless attempts to ‘secure’ the building to bring it inline with current public surveillance guidelines has been not succeeded.

To date no foreign business person has been awarded entry into the club. The exact reason for this is unknown.

Research Facility - System9, Classified, Classified, Classified.
Unknown, Unknown

\\Transmission_Log
Item One.
TO: Director Ravsjijkon
FM: Dr S. Larbi, Team Alpha
RE: The situation here
DT: (date removed)
MS:
Director Ravsjijkon,

The situation here is simple unacceptable. In the past month alone we have had over 5 leaks, 10 Electrical failures, and even a ten minute oxygen outage.

Luckily, due to my planning all emergencies failed to disrupt systems; however I can not assure such uptime in the future.

If our work means so much to system9 then why aren’t we being given the resources we need?

We are nearing project complete; to delay us at this stage would be – not in your best interests. I am sure you are aware of Paragraph 45, line 4 of the ‘special’ clause of your contract.

I would hate to see you downsized.

-Dr Larbi, Team Leader, Team Alpha

Item Two.
TO: Dr S. Larbi, Team Alpha
FM: Director Ravsjijkon
RE: Re: The Situation here
DT: (date removed)
MS:
Dear Dr Larbi,

Thank you for keeping me apprised of the situation, however, as you know, the current political climate disallows us from sending you the resources you need.

I have spoke to system9 administration personal and they have assured me they will try and send more supplies, however they asked me to remind you that in accordance with s9 policies you project is not to exceed more then 45% of its total outcome potential.

Thus far your project has exceeded 62% of its TOP.

I can understand your situation, but threats will not help you. I encourage you to refrain from further supply requests; I would hate for a certain audio file that I have to find its way on the s9 general ftp servers.

-Director Ethan Ravsjijkon, head of special projects, s9 Research

Item three.
TO: Director Ravsjijkon
FM: Dr S. Larbi, Team Alpha
RE: Crisis
DT: (date removed, two months after the original)
MS:
Director Ravsjijkon,

Well the situation I have been warning everyone about finally happened today, we had a containment failure in dome three. The automatic security systems failed, and didn’t open to escape hatches, also it failed to seal the labs, as it should have.

Consequently I had to manually contain the entire dome, cutting off over 50 workers, and half as many of your corporate security.

Some of our projects most important work was in there; we will be set back months now.

I request a team to come and see what’s salvageable; Now that we are down in nearly every field I need some men at once. I’m not sure if you are aware, but our main fabrication plant was in Dome three, and now as a result we are even more reliant on external sources for supplies.

Additionally, some of the men have been reporting – health problems, both mental and physical.

Additional man would help everyone wind down a bit.

-Dr Larbi, Team Leader, Team Alpha

Item four.
TO: Administrator Ipsen
FM: Director Ravsjijkon
RE: Research Facility Aqua One
DT: (date removed, one week after Dr Larbi’s last)
AT: larbi.ogg (3mb)
MS:
Administrator Ipsen,

It is my view that the A1 project has now lost its viability. I suggest containment, and appropriate data deletion of the facility.

Furthermore my IT man has discovered a rather … interesting audio file made my Dr Larbi on our FTP servers. I have attached it for your approval.

Item five.
TO: Director Ravsjijkon
FM: Dr S. Larbi, Team Alpha
RE: WHAT THE FU(data has been censored by the internal s9 firewall. If you feel the censoring has been in error please email firewall.admim@corp.s9.com)
DT: (date removed, one week after Director Ravsjijkon’s email )
MS:
WHAT THE FU(data has been censored by the internal s9 firewall. If you feel the censoring has been in error please email firewall.admim@corp.s9.com) IS GOING ON HERE? WHY HAVE YOU PLACED US IN FULL LOCKDOWN MODE???????

THERE WHERE MEN IN THE LOWER LEVELS WHEN YOU LOCK THEM OUT DAM IT! I WANT TO KNOW WHATS GOING ON DOWN HERE DAMM IT. YOU DON’T WANT TO UPSET ME, YOU DON’T KNOW WHATS GOING ON DOWN HERE YOU FU(data has been censored by the internal s9 firewall. If you feel the censoring has been in error please email firewall.admim@corp.s9.com) BA(data has been censored by the internal s9 firewall. If you feel the censoring has been in error please email firewall.admim@corp.s9.com). DON’T SC(data has been censored by the internal s9 firewall. If you feel the censoring has been in error please email firewall.admim@corp.s9.com) WITH ME YOU PR(data has been censored by the internal s9 firewall. If you feel the censoring has been in error please email firewall.admim@corp.s9.com).

WE DON’T HAVE MUCH O2 LEFT. IF YOU DON’T ENTER THE MASTER RELEASE CODE THERE WILL BE HELL TO PAY.

Item five.
TO: A1 Autonomous Command
FM: Director Ravsjijkon
RE: Activation Code LAMBADELTANINENINE
DT: (date removed, 5 minutes after Dr Larbi’s last)
MS:
Set mode pump_oxygen false.
Set mode climatecontrol_on false.
Set mode Halon_firecontrol true.
Set mode lockdown_level_maximum true.

Willamson and Son and Hoof Meats, Sung, The Water Cooler
Early Morning, Present Time.

“Mr…Anderson.” He said softly.

The irony of the line was lost on both of them, of course. The child sat hunched in the corner, shivering in the cold.

“Perhaps the cool room was not the best place to hide from me, Mr Anderson. Then again, where else could have gone?” A mocking laugh finished the sentence.

The looked at him in fear, his hazel eyes shimmering with tears. He shook like a leaf.

“Mr Anderson. There is no need to frighten. I’m with the government.” A bang somewhere else in the building momentarily distracted the government official. The child, Dean, quickly used this chance to dart out of the room. His feet pounded the earth as he ran down the wide expanse of the meat packing facility.

The foot steps of the agent weren’t far away. They seemed curiously well paced, almost as if he was strolling to catch up, not running.

A dull glint of metal caught his eyes. A wickedly twisted, and he hoped sharp, ‘s’ shaped meat hook sat on a bench. He darted over and picked it up, and swung around ready to face the agent.

“That was foolish Mr Anderson. Very foolish.” The voice behind him whispered in his ear in a supercilious tone.

The voice of the G-Police. The voice of his father.

“But dad! I didn’t mean it…”

The words didn’t stop the bullet. Stepping backwards Mr Anderson Snr flicked a few bloody chunks of his charcoal grey suit before adjusting his tie. He then spoke into his cuff

“Target removed. Send a clean crew here.”

Near the door a 30 year old, quiet attractive, women stood by and tried not to look distressed. Her hand subconsciously straightened her hair. A smile appeared on her lips, yet the tears in her eyes betrayed her real emotion.

“Dear. You look quite unattractive when you cry. You not upset at the loss of a traitor are you?” One hand he placed on his wife’s shoulder, and with the other he flicked the safety of his gun off again.

Bang.

Imperial Palace, Sohi City, The Water Cooler
Early Evening, Present day.

Hammerstein swore.

He looked down sadly at the plate of fruit that now lay in the floor. Gingerly he poked at a piece of Custard-Banana with his foot. As it sadly wobbled his face turned from glum to plain unhappy.

Looking around the kitchen he couldn’t help but notice the looks of his ‘fellow’ chefs. They ranged from elation to happiness to down right joy. They all had being waiting for Hammerstein to fail.

A piano suddenly appeared in the kitchen. A light, yet soulful piece started to play.

“Oh…woe is me!” Hammerstein, now suddenly in the centre of a spotlight, both metaphorically and literally began to sign in a deep basso profundo voice, that was in contrast to his slight, someone would say rodent like frame.

The other chefs went from being supremely panicked.

“Hey. Umm. Why is he singing? People don’t do that in real life do they!” Asked the sous-chef, a stocky man with a permeant case of rage.

“Ieee, don’t zknow! Izzz, ‘owyousay, a mystery?” Replied the Sauce Chef, a man who likes to think he is a French stereotype. Not a French person mind you, but a French stereotype.

The singing continued for awhile longer much to the confusion of all.

After the conclusion of a rousing chorus involving much fan fare, trumpets, animals etc, they went back to work.