The parts I had were a few quotes and scenes, mostly isolated lines of dialogue and two important events. I posted them a long time ago, but I'll add them
here.
-Doug regarded her levelly. "So, how many of you *can* dance on the head of a pin, Miss?"
(Not mine, but perfect)
-Dorothy narrowed her optics in the expression that her interaction subroutine suggested for annoyance. "You are a nutbar, Douglas Sangnoir."
Chapter Title Ideas
-Paradigm Shifting Without A Clutch
-Aggressive Negotiations
-You Just Made A Big Mistake
-In This City Of.. What Was I Saying Again?
-Don't I Get A Script?
-Doug Meeting the Three:
"Those voices! I know those voices! Show yourselves!" Doug yelled, worry showing in his eyes. "Why, oh why, did they have to find
me _here_?", he thought in panic.
A few tense seconds after Doug spoke, three figures stepped from the shadows that surrounded him. The mysterious figures each wore identical black cloaks,
concealing everything but their eyes- colorful, piercing orbs, which seemed to see into the very depths of Doug's being. They stood in a line in front of
him: one short figure -too short to be fully mature-, on the left, another, taller figure in the middle, and the third, who managed to reach a medium height
despite being hunched over, on the right end.
A voice spoke: nothing betrayed to which figure it belonged, nothing save its tone- deep, sultry, and quite obviously feminine.
"You Seek To Break The Wheel Of Destiny," it said.
As the first voice finished speaking, another- this one the sweet, bell-like tones of a virtuous maiden- took up where it left off.
"Why Do You Do This?," it asked: curiously, yet unhappily.
Predictably, the third voice- that of a young girl, yet possessed of more knowledge and wisdom than any girl- picked up the thought, as the last echoes of
bell-like tones faded into the inky otherscape.
"Know You Not That What Is, Is For A Purpose?," the girl questioned, somewhat accusatorily.
When the girl finished speaking, all three figures, in perfect unison, stepped forward and spoke as one.
"Who Are You To Trifle With The Destinies We Ordain?"
A tinge of something dangerous entered Doug's voice as he responded. "So it is you who have caused so much suffering here?" As he went on, his
voice grew in power, becoming louder, angrier, and more incredulous with every word. "_You_ are the reason that *these people*," his arm sweeping
around, indicating the world around him, "have lost their pasts, and avoid their futures? _You_ keep *these people* ignorant, binding them ghosts of
pasts that may not be, while blocking the way to their futures! WHAT could THESE PEOPLE EVER have done to deserve this, THIS TRAVESTY?," Doug roared,
glaring at each of the figures in turn.
"We Have Done This," responded Sultry, a hint of- was it regret?- in her voice.
"It Has To Be," continued Child, certainty audible in her words.
"You Cannot Change Our Paradigm," Bell-tone finished.
"I Write." Sultry.
"I Direct." Bell-tone.
"I Produce." Child.
The Three spoke together, their chorus resolute. "We Ended The Past, To Produce The Enduring Present. We Repeat The Present, So That The Future May Yet
Happen. We Prevent The Future, In Order To Save The Future. If We Did Not, All Would Not Be, And All Would Be, For Naught!"
"Sure, you'll _save_ the future," Doug snorted sarcastically, "but what'll be left when you get done?"
-Rosewater in Big Fau:
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!," Alex screamed, his face purpling in rage. "I AM A GOD!"
"No, you're not," said the figure in grey. "You're just a man whose intentions are good.' Too bad you don't even understand
them."
As he said this, the man in the grey leathers stuck out his fist, as the other two had done before them, thumb extended to the side. With a look of pity upon
his face, he twisted his thumb down, as Schwartzwald and Rager had before him. The display below them came to life again- this time, without any of the
electronic noise that heralded its earlier declarations..
With effort, Alex Rosewater turned his gaze away from the three phantoms before him, looking at the lit display at his knees. His eyes widened and his face
paled, as he read the single phrase is displayed- first once, then over and over, each time hoping it would be different.
Each time, he saw the same two words.
'Ye Guilty'
A single long, painful scream rang out across the secret Paradigm hangar, as its master ceased to be.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
here.
-Doug regarded her levelly. "So, how many of you *can* dance on the head of a pin, Miss?"
(Not mine, but perfect)
-Dorothy narrowed her optics in the expression that her interaction subroutine suggested for annoyance. "You are a nutbar, Douglas Sangnoir."
Chapter Title Ideas
-Paradigm Shifting Without A Clutch
-Aggressive Negotiations
-You Just Made A Big Mistake
-In This City Of.. What Was I Saying Again?
-Don't I Get A Script?
-Doug Meeting the Three:
"Those voices! I know those voices! Show yourselves!" Doug yelled, worry showing in his eyes. "Why, oh why, did they have to find
me _here_?", he thought in panic.
A few tense seconds after Doug spoke, three figures stepped from the shadows that surrounded him. The mysterious figures each wore identical black cloaks,
concealing everything but their eyes- colorful, piercing orbs, which seemed to see into the very depths of Doug's being. They stood in a line in front of
him: one short figure -too short to be fully mature-, on the left, another, taller figure in the middle, and the third, who managed to reach a medium height
despite being hunched over, on the right end.
A voice spoke: nothing betrayed to which figure it belonged, nothing save its tone- deep, sultry, and quite obviously feminine.
"You Seek To Break The Wheel Of Destiny," it said.
As the first voice finished speaking, another- this one the sweet, bell-like tones of a virtuous maiden- took up where it left off.
"Why Do You Do This?," it asked: curiously, yet unhappily.
Predictably, the third voice- that of a young girl, yet possessed of more knowledge and wisdom than any girl- picked up the thought, as the last echoes of
bell-like tones faded into the inky otherscape.
"Know You Not That What Is, Is For A Purpose?," the girl questioned, somewhat accusatorily.
When the girl finished speaking, all three figures, in perfect unison, stepped forward and spoke as one.
"Who Are You To Trifle With The Destinies We Ordain?"
A tinge of something dangerous entered Doug's voice as he responded. "So it is you who have caused so much suffering here?" As he went on, his
voice grew in power, becoming louder, angrier, and more incredulous with every word. "_You_ are the reason that *these people*," his arm sweeping
around, indicating the world around him, "have lost their pasts, and avoid their futures? _You_ keep *these people* ignorant, binding them ghosts of
pasts that may not be, while blocking the way to their futures! WHAT could THESE PEOPLE EVER have done to deserve this, THIS TRAVESTY?," Doug roared,
glaring at each of the figures in turn.
"We Have Done This," responded Sultry, a hint of- was it regret?- in her voice.
"It Has To Be," continued Child, certainty audible in her words.
"You Cannot Change Our Paradigm," Bell-tone finished.
"I Write." Sultry.
"I Direct." Bell-tone.
"I Produce." Child.
The Three spoke together, their chorus resolute. "We Ended The Past, To Produce The Enduring Present. We Repeat The Present, So That The Future May Yet
Happen. We Prevent The Future, In Order To Save The Future. If We Did Not, All Would Not Be, And All Would Be, For Naught!"
"Sure, you'll _save_ the future," Doug snorted sarcastically, "but what'll be left when you get done?"
-Rosewater in Big Fau:
"YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!!," Alex screamed, his face purpling in rage. "I AM A GOD!"
"No, you're not," said the figure in grey. "You're just a man whose intentions are good.' Too bad you don't even understand
them."
As he said this, the man in the grey leathers stuck out his fist, as the other two had done before them, thumb extended to the side. With a look of pity upon
his face, he twisted his thumb down, as Schwartzwald and Rager had before him. The display below them came to life again- this time, without any of the
electronic noise that heralded its earlier declarations..
With effort, Alex Rosewater turned his gaze away from the three phantoms before him, looking at the lit display at his knees. His eyes widened and his face
paled, as he read the single phrase is displayed- first once, then over and over, each time hoping it would be different.
Each time, he saw the same two words.
'Ye Guilty'
A single long, painful scream rang out across the secret Paradigm hangar, as its master ceased to be.
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.