[MiSTied] Skyscraper Part 1/3
Daniel J. Sikorski
My first public MiSTing ... and fair warning:
*** PG-13 to R-rated themes ahead (particularly in parts 2 and 3) ***
The fanfic "Skyscraper" contains mature themes, although it is neither
explicit nor does it contain four-letter Anglo-Saxon words. Still, the
theme is generally considered mature, so for the sake of covering my
behind, I'm tacking this warning on to the top. So, Reader Discretion is
advised.
SHAMELESS PLUG:
misties...@jg.cso.uiuc.edu -- the MiSTies Request Mailing List
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ika...@infinet.com
Daniel J Sikorski
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[SOL -- interior, empty.]
[TOM zips by, r. to l., followed by CROW]
TOM: YEEE-HAAAAAA!
[TOM zips by, l. to r., CROW still in hot pursuit]
CROW: I'm gainin' on ya!
[GYPSY leans into view on l., attracted by the racket.]
GYPSY: Hey, guys, what's -- AAAAAH!
[TOM barrels into GYPSY, then CROW barrels into both of them.
Both are laughing quite merrily.]
GYPSY: What's gotten into you two?!?!
TOM: Batteries!
CROW: New ones!
GYPSY: Alkalines?
TOM & CROW: [in unison] You betcha!
GYPSY: [shaking head] You *know* you two aren't old enough to
have the hard stuff!
MAGIC VOICE: Commercial sign in five seconds...
[TOM and CROW bolt off r.; GYPSY is still shaking her head]
GYPSY: Kids these days ...
[Commercials: Zima -- it's hip because Adolph Coors says so.
"You know what I really hate?" The Burn Cycle commercial, by
this time. "Who--who--who--" would buy a Canon Sure-Shot after
being subjected to that commercial? Insert the truly annoying
local ad of your choice -- in Columbus, it's Just for Feet.
"You're at Comedy Central. It's on this channel, therefore it's
funny. Right after Mystery Science Theatre, we begin our Pauly
Shore marathon."]
[SOL. CROW is flat on his back on the table while JOEL works on
him. TOM is holding a couple of tools -- a ball-peen hammer
in one hand and a drill bit of frightening proportions in
the other.]
TOM: Oh, come on. Let me try and reprogram him.
JOEL: I said no! [Looks up at CAMBOT] Oh, hi everybody, welcome
to the Satellite of Love, I'm Joel Robinson and with me as
usual is Tom Servo--
TOM: Hiya!
JOEL: And Crow T. Robot, who can't talk right now because I'm
just putting the finishing touches on my invention exchange
for this week. In fact -- oh, Pinky and the Brain are
calling.
[The Lab]
FRANK: What are we going to do tonight, Clay?
DR F: Oh, shut up. Hello, Joel. What are you going to fail to
impress us with this week, hmmm?
[SOL]
JOEL: Well, I was going through some old disks, and I came across
an old AppleBASIC version of 'Eliza', so I thought I'd load
it into Crow here as a demonstration of Artificial
Intelligence. Hello, Crow.
CROW: Hiya, Joel.
JOEL: Now, watch this: Hello, Eliza.
CROW: [expression blanks, faces CAMBOT rigidly, speaking in a flat
monotone]. HELLO. THE DOCTOR IS IN. WHAT SEEMS TO BE THE PROBLEM?
TOM: Oh, let me, let me! *Ahem!* Hello, Eliza ... *snicker!*
... uh, I'm having problems with another robot on this ship.
CROW: YOU SAY YOU ARE HAVING PROBLEMS WITH ANOTHER ROBOT ON
THIS SHIP?
TOM: Right. He's always making fun of my inoperable arms.
CROW: DO YOU WISH YOU WERE MAKING FUN OF YOUR INOPERABLE ARMS?
TOM: Huh? No!
CROW: YOU SOUND VERY NEGATIVE.
TOM: You're missing the point!
CROW: OH, I AM MISSING THE POINT.
TOM: Yes! This isn't about me!
CROW: ARE YOU SURE?
TOM: Yes!!!
CROW: I SEE.
TOM: Listen, I'm talking about somebody else!
CROW: DO YOU WISH YOU WEREN'T TALKING ABOUT SOMEBODY ELSE?
TOM: [waving the ball-peen hammer around as threateningly as he
can manage -- which isn't very] STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!
[Turns to JOEL] This is inhumane! Turn him back!
JOEL: Okay. Goodbye, Eliza. Hello, Crow.
CROW: [shaking head clear] Wha- huh?
[Lab]
FRANK: [checking his Day-Timer] Do you think you can fit me in a
week from Tuesday?
DR F: [shoves him aside] Well, our invention this week is
similar, but different, and of course far more brilliant.
You see, Joel, computer labs all over the world are working
on Artificial Intelligences. But who is plumbing the depths
of Artificial Stupidity? [belligerently] *I* am, that's
who! Frank, bring it out! [FRANK wheels out an insanely
complicated looking mass of wires and other bits and pieces;
DR. FORRESTER grabs the microphone protruding from the top.]
[smugly] This is Doctor Clayton Forrester.
ARTIFICIAL STUPIDITY (AS): [a little fritzed, some echo, but
*definitely* Frank's voice, as though played back from
assembled .WAV files] Uhhh ... who?
DR F: [more smug] Well, what more proof of imbecility could you
possibly ask for? It doesn't even know who *I* am!
FRANK: [staring at the machine in horror] Uh ... Clay?
DR F: Shut up, Frank. [to AS] Okay, here's an easy one: who is
the President of the United States?
AS: Uhhh ... six? Green? East Berlin?
FRANK: [a little more insistent] Say, Clay ...
DR F: Shut up, Frank. [to SOL] Your experiment this week is a
little something dredged up from AOL's 'Lois and Clark'
group. It features ... well, not very much. It's preceded
by a little piece of limburger from the badly-named
alt.drwho.creative newsgroup. Send 'em the fanfics, Frank!
FRANK: [indignant] I'm too dumb to know how. [folds arms, turns
his back on DR. FORRESTER, and pouts]
DR F: Oh ... get out of my way! [shoves, FRANK aside, sends it
up]
[SOL]
[General chaos ensues]
ALL: AHHH! We got fanfic sign!
6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... o ...
>From: cev...@thepoint.com (Clay Evans)
>Newsgroups: alt.drwho.creative
TOM: Is it just me, or does *everybody* get nervous whenever
they see '.creative' at the end of a newsgroup?
JOEL: Hm. Clay. Any relation, I wonder?
>Subject: DOCTOR WHO: Reflections - Episode One
TOM: But of how many?
JOEL: There are some questions best left unasked.
>Date: 17 Feb 1995 23:20:39 -0500
>Organization: The Point - Kentuckiana's Internet Connection
TOM: All right, where's Kentuckiana?
CROW: You know, just north of Tennessippi?
JOEL: Just south of West Pennsylginia?
TOM: (dubiously) Oh. Oh, yeah. I knew that.
>Lines: 39
CROW: There's hope after all. It's short.
>Message-ID: <3i3sin$m...@thepoint.com>
>NNTP-Posting-Host: thepoint.com
CROW: Yes, we get 'The Point'.
TOM: Now can we just get on with it?
JOEL: Now can we just get this over with?
>X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]
TOM: New from Marvel Comics: 'X-NEWSREADER'!
JOEL: Marvel Comics. Where "X" marks the crossover.
>OVERTURE
CROW: Hey, stop making overtures at me!
> The Elder paused, hands trembling, over the parchment.
CROW: He didn't realize he'd called *that* many 1-900 numbers.
>So, the time of the prophecy had come. He mouthed the words to
>himself:
JOEL: "Reply hazy. Ask again later."
>"The great light shall be made dark, and not all the legions of
>time shall stay him. Yet - the prodigal shall return to save
>all."
TOM: But he'd have to call the Psychic Friends network to be
sure.
>###
CROW: Huh? Pound signs?
TOM: No, they're sharp signs!
JOEL: Looks like they're going to be the only thing that's not
light-weight and dull.
> It was strange, the fire that spread through him - the
>fire that started from the soles of his feet and spread through
>every fiber of his being.
TOM: [TV announcer's voice] Constipation is like a firestorm
raging through your system ...
> His mouth opened to scream - but made
>only a dry, choking rattle. Then the world went dark, and
>everything went away.
CROW: [starts to rise]
JOEL: [pushing him back down] And where do you think you're going?
CROW: Well, he *said* everything went away!
JOEL: You don't get out of this that easily.
>###
JOEL: There's three more of them. Maybe this story's supposed to
be sung in A.
> The Elder nodded at the sound - the abrupt thump that
>signalled full materialization. "You know why I'm here", the
>Other announced.
JOEL: I want that twenty bucks you own me.
> The Elder nodded, and rolled up the parchment.
TOM: And lit it, took a really deep hit, and passed it to the
Other.
CROW: Who bogarted it.
> "Yes, I know. So be it then - let the prophecy
>be fulfilled." The Elder turned a burning gaze on the Other.
>"Let *all* of it be fulfilled."
CROW: Right. You get the rubber pants, I'll get --
JOEL: In trouble if you finish that thought.
> The Other chuckled softly as he approached the Elder.
TOM: The Other *what*?
CROW: Who knows?
JOEL: Yep, he probably does. Or at least he will in an episode
or two.
BOTS: [turn to JOEL and stare for a moment, shaking their heads]
> "I am sorry to inform you, Elder, that
JOEL: -- we replaced your regular coffee with Folger's crystals.
> certain - elements -
>of the prophecy will not be fulfilled."
CROW: So leave your pants on.
JOEL: Crow ...
TOM: But you'll still need to get the lime Jell-O!
JOEL: Tom ...
CROW: And the giraffe! Definitely the giraffe!
JOEL: [sighs heavily]
> The Other produced a
>device from his pocket.
CROW: "'Scuse me while I whip this out."
> "Do you know what this device is,
>Elder?
JOEL: Probably a plot device.
TOM: Sure could use one about now.
>It is a Moebius Device.
ALL: Oh.
> It produces a localized time loop.
ALL: Oh.
> You
>will effectively be removed from time until my buisness is done.
ALL: Oh.
TOM: What is this, exposition for fun and profit?
>Then, perhaps, I shall release you. Why not? At that point, it
>will hardly matter where you are."
JOEL: Or when.
TOM: Or who.
CROW: Or how funnily dressed.
> The Other pointed the
>Moebius device at the Elder, bathing him in a deceptively soft,
>corruscating light.
CROW: 'Corruscating'?
TOM: I bet Clay owns a thesaurus.
JOEL: I bet he *doesn't* own a Strunk and White.
>Still wreathed in shadow, the Other disappeared into his
>TARDIS. The revolving light on it's crest was oddly menacing as
>the police box dematerialized.
CROW: Foreshadowing. Your key to good literature.
JOEL: Foreshadowing is nice, but *my* key to good literature is
when it says 'The End'.
TOM: I mean, it's not like he didn't give everything *away*
there at the end -- everyone *knows* there's only one Time
Lord with a police-box shaped TARDIS, so they *know* that
the old man will be all right. And what's this "Elder"
business, anyways? Gallifrey's run by the Lord President,
the Castellan, and a whole *load* of funnily-dressed
Cardinals. And --
CROW: Tom?
TOM: Yeah?
CROW: You're talking like a fanboy. Stop it.
TOM: Sorry. Let's roll.
[End Part 1 of 3]