Steal My Stuff: June 2013

Joe picked up a small board covered with cathodes and diodes and a number of other odes.

An ode to odes:
Oh Odes
Oh Odes!
Oh Odes.
Oh Odes.
Oh oh oh.

Stay tuned for my new series, “Odes to Odes, and other great Odes”, now in e-paperback.

Joe dropped the electronic board into a box made from a hardened mud, then placed the box on the shelf. He picked up another board, packed it in the box, placed it on the shelf, picked up a board, packed it in a box, placed it on the shelf.

'I, uh,' said Joe, 'can't help think this is all a bit familiar.'

'I know,' said The Tank. 'It's great!'

'Not quite the word I'd use to describe it,' said Joe.

'It's so good to have the team back!'

Joe looked around at The Tank, who was busy doing the same picking/packing/placing routine as he was. He looked at the noob, whose beaming face was spending more time examining the parts than doing any stacking. He looked at the space previously occupied by Ridley.

'Where did Ridley go?'

'Pretending to be straight,' said the noob and quickly covered his mouth.

Joe gave him a look then turned his attention to The Tank.

'Dunno mate, probably after that Anne shealer.'

'Anne?' said Joe.

'Yeah. Miss Connie's right-hand guy.'

'Oh,' said Joe. 'Ugly then?'

'Nah mate, some'd think she's quite the looker.'

'Not your type, ey? Anyway, it's good to see you again Tank. I know you already explained, in great detail, how you came to be here and of your incredible adventures that lead to us meeting once more, but I thought you'd like to recap for the benefit of...well...anyone else listening.'

The Tank looked around at the large empty warehouse. They were all alone in a small corner, with a conveyer belt slowly sending more electronic components their way.

'Not much to say, really. I was standing near that superheated thingy and then I heard some buzzing noises and whamo I was here.'

'Hmm, I wonder if the buzzing was the sound of me and Ridley talking,' said Joe. 'Just moving really fast compared to you.'

'Like in Wink of an Eye,' said the noob.

Joe stared at him.

'The original series episode.'

'-'

'Star Trek?'

'See!' said Joe, quickly surrounded by a glazed silence.

Yes Joe, keep your panties on, I know who's who now. It just takes me a while to warm up. He's the science fiction fan, you're the one into err cult classics, shall we say.

'All I know,' said The Tank, breaking the silence, 'is I was pushed out onto that road. Then Miss-'

'You didn't- Oh sorry for interrupting, Mr The Tank, but are you saying you didn't emerge inside a building?' said the noob.

'Building?' 'Building?'

'Yes. I just assumed that yourself, Joe, and Ridley of course, exited the wormhole in the same spatial coordinates, even if temporally different.'

The Tank looked for guidance from Joe.

'I came out in a plaza. Now that you mention it, I bet Ridley came out closer to that building. No wonder he had time to laugh at me.'

'Rids always has time to laugh at people, mate,' said The Tank.

Some observant readers will note a slightly altered vocabulary for The Tank; more specifically, the addition of a new favourite word: mate. This is a normal manifestation of an Australian finding himself in a new country. While the speaker may never have had the need to utter the word at home, the term invariably finds greater usage abroad in its ability to engender goodwill from the locals and in connecting with other expatriates.

The noob's eyes were darting side to up to side to down, mimicking the neurons that were firing in his brain. 'So wait,' he said, 'the wormhole must be stuck in a specific space/time and as this planet rotates, the relative place where it emerges changes. You know, I could probably estimate the size of the planet, or the speed of rotation, based on how far apart we were expelled and the delay for each of us to jump through-'

'Yeah, that'd really help us get out of here,' said Joe.

'Get out?' said The Tank. 'Why would I want to get out? I like it here. They treat you better than back home, apart from missing my mummy.'

“Back home” - another being-in-a-foreign-place addition

The noob looked at all the bits of technology around him. The glint in his eye told Joe that he'd found paradise in this empty warehouse of a prison.

'So none of you are a bit bored with the familiarity?' said Joe. 'Don't tell me I'm the one that actually wants to do something different. Me of all people! I can't be the only one that needs to get out and explore this new world.'

The others shrugged.

For the first time in his life Joe was eager to see Ridley. Surely he'd find a partner in support.

'Anyway, we better get back to it. We've still got a lot of the load to take care of. Heh, load.' He chuckled.

'That's another thing,' said Joe, 'what is it we're doing exactly?'

'Stackin' shelves,' said The Tank with a big smile.

'I know, but...why? What's this stuff used for?'

'Don't think it's used at all. That's why we got it. That's why we got to store it. Something like that.'

'Hmm,' said Joe. He'd have to ask someone else, someone who might actually know. Perhaps go straight to Miss Connie. He wasn't sure about Anne. How many people could there be on this planet with that name? How many with now-deceased grandfathers? Best not to find out. In the mean time, he'd try to avoid her for as long as possible. How hard could it be?

'Hi, I'm Anne.'

Joe glanced over his shoulder. The girl looked in her early twenties (which would make her a woman Joe, please do keep up), thin, tall, with waist-length brown hair. She held her right hand out, ready to shake.

'I'm Joe,' said Joe, without inflection. He held a mud-box in his hands and simply looked down at her long fingers before she took her hand back.

'Man, that feels so much better,' said Ridley, jumping into view. He rubbed his leg. 'Anne'll get rid of your ankle bracelet quick snap.'

'Yes,' she said, and turned to Joe. 'You can be next.' She smiled.

Joe looked away, placing the box on the ground. 'OK,' he said, evenly.

It wasn't the vials filled with colourless liquids, or the small metal instruments, or even the lack of dust. No. What made the room seem set up for medical procedures was the placement of a waist-high operating table in the dead centre. No other room would have that. Except maybe a satanic sacrificial alter. But since Joe wasn't a virgin (apparently), he wasn't too concerned about that possibility.

He sat on the bed, his right leg up beside him. Anne was seated on a mono-stool with something white and shiny in her hand. She waved it over the metal anklet, looked at it closer, pressed it a few times, then waved it again. Despite its whiteness and shininess, it had that stitched together look, like an electronic version of Frankenstein's monster.

'Connie doesn't believe in holding people hostage,' said Anne. 'She says the best way to gain trust is to give it. That's why we don't use these proximity transmitters.' She waved her device over it again. 'Or a fence.'

Joe had come in thinking he just wouldn't talk. He'd let the girl take his transmitter off and then leave. Quickly. This way he could avoid knowing if she was the intended recipient of a dying man's final words.

I told you I'd link that one back! Sometimes I even surprise myself.

But now, he couldn't let that one slide. He'd come so far, in so many ways, and was now hamstrung. He needed to let out some good old teenage angst.

'But we still can't leave,' he said.

'No. But Connie says you have to make it look like you're working within the system. Build up trust. That's the only way to get any kind of freedom.'

'If you call it that.'

'Connie says it's the best way to survive. This isn't a good place to be alone in, not as a human. Connie says-'

'What do you say?' said Joe, becoming agitated.

Anne showed only a glimpse of startle. She was primarily startle-less. Joe was at first impressed by her composure. He then realised what that meant: she was good at hiding her emotions. Which meant she'd be good at hiding all sorts of things from him, and from the others. He preferred people who were open about their distaste for him. That was much easier to handle.

'I trust Connie,' said Anne. 'It can be scary out there...alone.' She seemed on the verge of continuing the thought, but decided against it.

Showing he wasn't completely without social graces, Joe took the opportunity to change the subject.

'So this tech duty,' he said, 'what's that all about, hey?' Hmm, it didn't come out quite as eloquently as he'd hoped.

'Oh. It's simple. We go around sequestering illegal technology and storing it in the warehouse.'

'Illegal technology?' said Joe. 'What counts as illegal technology?'

Anne screwed her face up. 'Any technology really.' She smiled.

'Ah, so it's one of those stories, hey.'

'Stories?' said Anne.

What stories?

'I bet the government and their cronies get to keep all the tech for themselves, and use it to subjugate the populace. Meanwhile, everyone else has to get by with a few shape-shifting blob slaves and a lot of hard work. The haves and have-nots.'

For someone who doesn't like science fiction, you're doing a pretty good job. Is there something you're not telling me?

'That's...that's actually a very accurate representation of life here,' said Anne. 'How did you know?'

'It's quite an old concept,' said Joe.

Pfft. Timeless, I'd say. Don't agree with egalitarian societies, then? More keen on totalitarianism? Perhaps you'd like your life ruined by an oppressive regime ruling under the auspices of a fascist dictatorship? Am I using big words poor Joe-joe doesn't quite understand?

'It's only humans who bother with the technology, anyway,' said Anne. 'That's why they give us the task of confiscating it. Their idea of a joke, I suppose.'

'Not a very funny joke,' said Joe.

'The locals would never think to do anything with technology; they're too scared to even go near it. I remember some non-government locals came by this place one time, they'd got themselves lost. You should have seen their faces when they saw the transmitter on my ankle. They couldn't get out fast enough.'

'You can put them on again?'

'Yeah. We have to, whenever we get visitors.'

'How often is that?' said Joe.

'There's an audit every few months, I believe. I'll check with Connie if you like.'

Joe smiled. 'That's OK. What are these government types like? Didn't Connie say something about noh-ells or something? If they're anything like Santa, they can't be all that bad.'

Anne laughed. A loud, childlike laugh. The kind Joe would only do when he knew no one was looking. 'O.L. Connie would have said O.L. It stands for Overlords. It's an in-joke. We can't pronounce their name anyway, so why not have some fun? Isaac came up with it.

'Who's Isaac?' said Joe.

'Oh, you'll meet him at lunch. He arrived here not long after me. He doesn't talk much, so when he does it's worth listening to.'

Joe was pretty certain he wouldn't be interested in whatever it was this Isaac had to say for himself.

Anne looked down at the device. 'Sometimes these devices act up and he-' She stopped herself, then looked up. 'I'm sorry, I've interrupted the discussion. What were you saying?'

'Oh. The O.L.'s?'

An Ode to O:
Oh O
Oh oh O
Oh O
Oh Yoko!

WARNING: THE REMAINDER OF THIS POEM HAS BEEN REMOVED DUE TO RAMPANT AND FLAGRANT COPYRIGHT VIOLATION.
© LENONO MUSIC.

The author wishes to express outrage at the disproportionate and abusive response to the legitimate fair use rights in his wonderful satire “An Ode to O”. In retaliation he has withdrawn his upcoming compendium “Odes to Odes, and other great Odes” and shall, forthwith, refrain from any further Ode-ling. Tis society who must suffer for the indiscretions of the ruling cla-

THE REMAINDER OF THIS ASIDE HAS BEEN REMOVED DUE TO RAMPANT AND FLAGRANT JOKE COPYING. THOSE RESPONSIBLE HAVE BEEN SACKED.
© MONTY PYTHON

'Do you know much about the O.L's?' said Joe.

'They tend to get others to do their dirty work. They'll get some other race to do the audits here, a sub-contractor. I've only ever seen one real O.L., and he...it...was pretty scary. It was in a large costume so you couldn't see much of anything. It reminded me of a circus performer on stilts, with a long, flowing white dress draped low. Weird. And creepy. It came to inform us of a discrepancy from the last warehouse audit. One piece of technology wasn't accounted for.'

'They don't trust you to enough to have a telephone?'

Anne laughed. 'Telephone? I don't even know if they have anything like a telephone. Not that it matters – you're lucky to get clean drinking water here. Filtered water is about the highest level of tech they'll allow. I still don't know how Connie managed to get these.' She waved the unlocking device in her hand. 'It was before my time and I haven't been brave enough to ask.'

Anne pressed the device against the anklet and the metal opened up. It made a weird extra sound which she immediately dismissed.

'Freedom,' she said.

'Ha!' He rubbed his ankle. 'So did you find the missing bit of tech? From the audit?'

'We had to turn the place upside down. But we found it immediately, sitting wedged behind one of the shelves.'

Strange, thought Joe. You found it straight away but had to turn the place upside down? It could have just been an embellishment, but the way she said it made him think there was more to the story.

'And if you hadn't found it?' said Joe.

Anne laughed. Joe was beginning to enjoy the sound.

'It would have been the end of this place,' she said. 'That's something they take very seriously.'

'What would happen to you if this place went away?'

Anne sighed. 'I don't know.' Her face was quite close to his and she looked him in the eye. 'I really don't know. Connie has been like a mum to me, ever since they took granddad.'

Joe looked closely at the tiny lines near Anne's eyes, at the pores of her skin, at all the imperfections that at this point made her more real than he was prepared to deal with. When she was just a name, just a grand-daughter, it was easy to dismiss the ramblings of an old man. But now, with the flesh in front of him, he felt compelled to say something.

'Anne...about your gra-'

He was stopped by a loud bang on the wall. Then another. Then a grinning face flung into view at the archway.

'Oi,' said Ridley, 'the noob here is boring me.' He peered at them both with a sudden seriousness flowing across his face. 'You guys done?'

'Almost,' said Anne, adding a merry tone. 'What were you say-' she said to the empty space on the bed where Joe had been. 'Oh. I guess I'm available.'

Ridley blinked and walked away, leaving in his place the present of a smiling noob.

Another room. This one was large. And loud. In one corner, all seated around a single table, were a group of humans. Apart from Connie and Anne, Joe could make out a very tall, younger guy, with his head down. Next to him were two short, identical looking men, much older, with spiky hair and large mouths, made all the larger by their constantly open posture.

'Come meet the gang,' said The Tank. Joe, Ridley and the noob followed obediently.

'Ah, welcome,' said Connie. 'Pull up a seat. You don't need to wait on graces here.'

Joe looked around at the welcoming faces. He found a chair, if you can call it that.

'You've met Anne I take it?' said Connie, looking briefly at their bare ankles.

Joe noticed Anne's bright smile and couldn't help responding in kind.

'That's Isaac in the corner,' said Connie. 'And these two scalleywags-'

'Ogh! Did you hear that, Shamus?' said one of the twins, with a thick Irish accent.

'Me heart beats all the slower because of it, Micky' said the other, in a thicker Irish accent.

'No, not stereotypical at all,' said Joe under his breath.

Quiet you!

'Plenty of food left,' said Connie. 'Take what you need but nothing more.'

'Plenty a cold food,' said one of the twins, adding a wink.

'Cold rottin' flesh,' said the other twin, laughing.

'Yes, if you've ever tried boiled rotting flesh, you'd know we're definitely missing out. But, alas, we aren't allowed cooking tech.'

'No chance I'm eating rotting flesh,' said a hungry Ridley, spooning some into his bowl.

'It's not real human flesh,' said Anne. 'That's just a nickname. There's a certain tree that sheds a soft bark. They pick it up and sell it cheap on the roads. It's a good base food, very nutritious.'

'And downright awful,' said the first twin.

'So eat up!' said the other, with another laugh.

Joe felt he'd stepped into some religious holiday camp. Everyone was altogether too happy. Sure, it made him feel a bit better. Certainly made him feel wanted. But it couldn't possibly be real.

Joe peered down at his own bowl of rotting flesh. It looked like runny celery in muddy water. He scooped some into his mouth. It tasted like runny celery in muddy water.

Figure 6-1: Untitled

You know, that was going to be a drawing of the amazing swirls of the dish, all in technicolor, like an acid trip from the 70's. But I still haven't received serious accolades from the world's artistic community from my earlier masterpiece (see Figure 5-1: The view). Where are my awards, hmm? Where is my critical reception? Where are all the foreign dignitaries clambering to get a piece of the Next Big Thing? Now I know why artists are so bitter.

You know what, I'm above all that. I will soldier on, for I have pride and honour and a full packet of Tim Tam's sitting on my desk. Each, it seems, must be swallowed whole to engender a long and prosperous life. But on with the show...

The incumbent purveyors of The Rat's Nest continued whatever conversation they were having before the welcome mats were flung out. If you've ever listened to a lunch-time conversation between work colleagues you'll know the inane drivel that dripped from their lips. I won't bore you with a detailed description. Instead, I'll point out some key points; an executive summary of sorts:

Shamus and Micky, otherwise known as The Cleanup Crew, exuberantly recited some of their adventures in finding hidden tech in suspected locations. Apparently a lot of people liked to hide their secrets behind the toilet (or as the locals liked to call it, the smelly over-flowing bucket over there).
Issac spoke quietly to the noob. No one else noticed because...well because it was the noob. The two did get mighty chummy, though, like water brothers.
Connie watched the interactions of everyone very carefully and quite surreptitiously. Her attention was, at times, interrupted by Ridley and his series of strange questions about relationships and this “friend” he had.

OK, so we haven't ended with a cliff-hanger this time. But how exciting was that ending? Eating food at a table and talking! Hold me back or I'll just explode. If you're lucky, and ask really nicely, there might be some more talking and perhaps even a nom-nom or two in the next few episodes. Woo!

Episode VI is dedicated to the Foundation series, where action is opaquely painted over with lottts and lotttts of talkinggggg. Zzzzzz. Winky face.

Find episode VII here.