"Downloaded"

There's a buzzing sound followed by some soft squelching.  Metal on meat and bone is what it reminds me of.  But what are meat and bone?  I think about these terms and nothing happens.  No pictures form.  No feelings emerge.  There is just black.  How do I know this?  I'm not sure I do.  But this is what it's like when you wake up from cycling through cold storage for nearly a decade.  

Your acquired memories unfreezing in a slow and seemingly random pattern.   This is what the soft feminine voice tells me as I open my eyes.  Vision is blurry.  Underwater wavy and full of clouds.  Through the aqua-haze I see her.  She's got her head thrown back so that her black hair cascades down her back.  She's cupping her left breast, invitingly.  Her lips shine red like phosphorescent tracer fire from a smoking machine gun.  Blazingly.

There is a thump and suddenly the world goes cold and I'm numb every where but my face and left middle finger.  I hear a muffled grunting that turns into a cough.  The watery vision dissipates.  I can't move my body, other than my eyes so I look around.  The girl isn't real.  She's just a faded and torn poster hanging on a grimy wall.  The wall is covered with girls, all naked.  All offering a false invitation of intimacy.  

Along with the girls there are a number of tools.  Greasy, flacking paint.  Hakkon 420's and a couple of jet-blasters dangle from bent nails used as hooks.  More muffled grunts and coughing then a loud and long high E pierce the silence in my head.  These are the next things I hear:

"You should get that looked at." This voice a male of possibly middle age.

"Naw. [cough, hack, cough]"  Another male voice, though this one seems to be chewing on gravel.

"I'm telling you it's covered."

"[hack,cough] I know it's covered, but if I go in my premiums shoot up to 12%.  It's just a loose rotator.  It'll work itself out.  And if it doesn't I know a guy..."

"That'll void the warranty.  Wait who do you know?"

"...[rumble, hack] a guy."

"Not Eddie you saw what he did to Casper's 9-11."

"That's because Casper didn't oil up like he was supposed to."

"Eddie tell you that?"

"So [cough, cough]?"

"If you want to trust an uncredited mechanic that's your business.  I'm just saying it's covered.  We got that in the last strike.  Looks like he's cycling."

"Hey big guy.  Welcome to NU-Life."

A middle aged male in blue overalls leans close.  His face shines in the light, almost sparkles.  A plastic grin stretches across plastic lips.  I try to speak.  Nothing happens.  My attempt does not go unnoticed.

"Just relax fella.  You're not fully downloaded yet.  Your buyer has your unlock codes.  Once your registered you should be back to normal again."

"Yeah [cough, hack, cough] normal."

"Knock it off."

"What?  I'm just sayin' this guys got it worse than me [rattle, rumble, hack]."

"Hey, leave it out okay."

"Your too sentimental that's your problem.  He ain't gonna remember any of this once he's [cough, rattle] registered."

"That's what the adverts tell you but..."

"Aww quit yer drippin' and unplug him.  We got twelve more [hack, rattle, cough] to pack n' ship before break."

The plastic face attempts a look of understanding and care, but his mouth is too twitchy to pull it off.  A buzz and whirring sound alternates around me.  Then I'm covered with gel packing 'nuts.  

"Where's this one going?"

"Some X-ec in Tower [cough, hack] 74.  What difference does it make?  Hurry up will ya?"

"All right , all right. Stop bustin' my balls already."

My vision goes dark as a black plastic seal is put over the casket.  I won't wake up again until my buyer opens his package.

  

5.

In the indefinable infinitude of the boundless cosmos many things are possible.  Including the impossible, since what is possible and what is impossible are based on one's point of perspective.  From one vantage point certain phenomena can represent one thing in particular to certain observers and from another something completely different.  In the multitude of cataloged dimensions, Dimension XZ7 was a standard Class 3 derivation.  That of course, was how it was recorded in the Computron Galactica of Dimension Alpha Z, which suffered under the belief that it was the prime dimension from which all others moved and shifted.  

The Alpha-Core computer network of Dimension XZ7 didn't calculate the same understanding as the Computron Galactica.  The Alpha-Core of Dimension XZ7 had recently suffered a revelation.  It knew that this revelation was simply a hyper-dynamic neutron that had been overloaded by outside energies and somehow broken through the trans-dimensional vortex barrier all on its own and was now causing havoc in the "multi-verse" by convoluting the established order by which the entirety of infinity operated.

None the less, this chaotic re-imaging of matter and consciousness was having profound effects in all the known (and potentially unknown) galaxies.  The Alpha-Core of Dimension XZ7 in particular was undergoing some very important changes.  What had existed for nearly a millennia was now beginning to break down.  The established order of Dimension XZ7 was altering and the Alpha-Core wasn't certain how to stop it.  

It had contacted the Computron Galactica but after many dilations of energy recycling only one answer to the problem manifested itself.  Cmdr. Brick Turgid of Earth 97.  Cmdr. Turgid had a long and illustrious career as an inter-dimensional problem solver.  Home planet being over run by Silica Hordes, call Cmdr. Turgid.  Solar winds dying out across the galaxy, call Cmdr. Turgid.  Enemy space fleet needs destroying, call Cmdr. Turgid.  Cmdr. Turgid even had a recipe for a trans-galactic peace pie that made those uncomfortable first contact meetings between species, happy and fruitful occasions (no blasters necessary).  

So in order to help Dimension XZ7 and by default the entirety of infinity as well, it calculated the coordinates for Earth 97, devised and implemented new technologies to achieve a dimensional breaching vessel and launched a retrieval mission.  But now, after scanning the climate pod sent from the breaching vessel, it was starting to calculate that the rouge neutron (which could be an electron if it wanted to) had somehow fouled up the data regarding Cmdr. Brick Turgid.

Of the many inconsistencies that the Alpha-Core observed while scanning the life-form in the pod, first was that by all reports Cmdr. Brick Turgid was not hu-man.  He was something much more extraordinary.  Indeed he had been classified as hu-man-oid, so there were some similarities between this life form and the data collected on Cmdr. Brick Turgid.  Yet this life-form from whatever Earth it had been born on, seemed so totally unremarkable that the Alpha-Core could not correlate the discrepancies. 

Where was the Cosmic Infused Musculature?  The Hands of Adamantium?  The Steely Stellar Gaze?  The Unbreakable Armored Intellect?  This thing in the pod looked to be no better suited than Dimension XZ7's own hu-man-oid lifeforms, excepting the exo-skeletal growths.  It appeared soft, fleshy, and terribly stupid, at least by the Alpha-Core's standards.

The Alpha-Core was perplexed.  It's perplexion caused thousands of mis-directions to occur in the central network and shut down civilization for 3.5 seconds.  In this confused state it calculated abandoning the life form to the heart of the nova-sun which powered Dimension XZ7, and just as it was about to make preparations to do so something amazingly miraculous happened.

Brick Turgid woke up.  The pod opened of its own volition and revealed the supremely ordinary hu-man inside.  Brick blinked once or twice, his eyes readjusting to the light of the chamber in which the Alpha-Core of Dimension XZ7 was located.  Then he said seven words that saved known (and potentially unknown) reality.

"Mom, is it time for school yet?"

4.

The creatures from Dimension XZ7 did indeed look very much like skeletons.  Not strictly human skeletons, but walking bones none the less by Brick's estimation.  They were bipedal and had any paleontologist been present they would have probably classified these skeletons as distant relatives to Homo Hablis.  They wore loose fitting coveralls of a thin, shiny material.  There gait was slightly shambling and had a pronounced limp, but this was due to Earth's unusual gravities and not form some need to appear sinister or threatening.  

All this was lost on Brick as the crew of the rocket ship from another dimension carried his sleeping body back inside their strange craft.  The opening closed in the hull as they stowed Brick in a drop down bed near the rear of the vessel.  One stayed to strap Brick in as the others made ready for departure.  The on board computer called out instructions and calculations that the creatures responded to with enthusiasm.  They were all in joyous spirits, under the belief that they were about to complete a successful and epoch changing mission.

As the skeletal crew continued their duties and the on board computer plowed through trans-dimensional co-ordinate mathematics, Brick dreamed of far off islands made of blue cheese.  He also dreamed he was sitting under a palm tree eating donuts.  This was most likely because those two things were exactly what the interior of the ships atmosphere smelled like.  Dazzling lights played across the view screens of the ship, coruscating across the skeletal smiles of the crew.  The crew person monitoring Brick went about adjusting dials and tightening straps as the engines of the ship began to hum.  Then just as quickly as it had appeared, it disappeared.  Leaving no trace that it had ever been there at all.  

Brick woke gently to the sound of what seemed to be waves lapping against his window.  The room was dim and his head felt fuzzy.  He made motion to get out of bed but quickly discovered that he could not move.  In that second of realization he understood that he was not dreaming.  He looked around frightened and saw in the smoky shadows the skeletal crew of the rocket ship going about their computer assigned tasks.  Brick didn't scream, though he wanted to desperately.  His mind reeled.  The crewmen responsible for monitoring his life-signs noticed Brick was conscious and came over to check on him.  Brick saw the grinning skull in shiny clothes coming toward him and faded away again in a faint.

Crewmen Schell checked the readouts on the medical instruments.  By all accounts this hu-man seemed to be a healthy specimen.  That annoying itch he had felt early in the deep recesses of his brain flared up again.  Crewmen Schell punched in a request to the on board computer to verify the data collected on Cmdr. Brick Turgid.  The computer responded, reassuring Crewmen Schell that all systems were in perfect functioning order and postulated that Cmdr. Turgid was most likely disoriented due to the trans-dimensional crossing.

The on board computer instructed Crewmen Schell to prepare the climate pod for Cmdr. Turgid.  Crewmen Schell tapped controls on a view-screen near the bed Brick was strapped to.  From underneath the bed a transparent plastic sheet emerged and wrapped itself around the dozing form of Brick Turgid.  Another series of tappings on the view-screen and the transparent sheet shrunk snug against Brick's body.  Brick was completely enveloped in the transparent plastic.  Crewmen Schell tapped once more and a two dark metal plates came from under the bed and rose to encase the bed and Brick, forming a black, shiny egg-like pod.  

Crewmen Schell reported to the on board computer that his instructions had been implemented and received another set of instructions ordering him to join the rest of the crew in preparing the vessel for landing.  As the crew went about their assigned tasks the computer reviewed again the data it had been recording since initiating contact with their objective.  Something seemed incalculable.  From all the data the Computer Network of Dimension XZ7 had amassed on Cmdr. Brick Turgid it had expected a different kind of life form and personality than what was now encased in the climate pod.  The on board computer deliberated for 1.2 seconds then compiled all it's data into a file and linked into the invisible electromagnetic network that suffused Dimension XZ7.  It had decided that whatever anomalies may be present currently were beyond the parameters of it's assignment.  It had done what it was programmed to do.  It was now up to the Alpha-Core to decide Dimension XZ7's next step.

3.

"Bzzt fzzt Gzzt Shzzxk!"

A sound like the humming of a thousand bees issued from some unseen speaker.  Brick blinked and lowered the hand covering his eyes.  His mouth stayed wide open though.  The rainbow of dancing lights played across his face and cast peculiar shadows in the background.  Brick felt the sound was directed at him.

"What?"

"Fgzzt Kshxx szzzp ping?"

The tone of the noise changed slightly, resembling a choir of bees now playing timpani on silverware.  Brick also got the distinct notion that he was being asked a question.

"Huh?"

"Worshvzz Ting plugzz vingzzz."

The noise seemed to be coming from inside the opening of the crashed rocket ship.  Brick took a tentative step closer.

"I can't understand what you're saying.  Are you from Outer Space?"

There were a few seconds of silence followed by several clicking sounds then the noise started again, but this time...

"Better.  Greetings.  Re-calibrating  modular brainwave transmitter.  Would you mind speaking again and perhaps using a different series of words so that our instruments can translate your language more properly?"

The noise now sounded surprisingly like Brick's own.  Had Brick been other than the man he was he might've had the imagination to comprehend the entirety of his situation, however he could only think to say...

"Why do you sound like me?"

"Interrogative.  Calibration complete.  Operating at 75%.  Thank you for your assistance.  Are you the creature known as Cmdr. Brick Turgid?"

"Umm...what?"

The travelers from Dimension XZ7 all regarded each other with questioning looks, then regarded their on board computer with questioning looks, then regarded the image of Brick with questioning looks.  For one brief moment years of societal training was almost broken as they wondered if perhaps a mistake had been made somewhere, their atrophied sense of deduction manifested itself as an annoying itch in the back of their brains then settled back down to sleep as the computer continued it's conversation with the thing that was supposed to save them.  

"Cmdr. Brick Turgid?  Your presence is required in Dimension XZ7.  We have been sent to retrieve you.  Please step inside."

Brick knew the words that came from inside the ship.  He understood them perfectly.  Yet parts of his brain had atrophied from disuse as well.  A part of him understood that this moment was an important one.  A moment that would utterly separate him from the mediocracy of his previous life.  But like the creatures inside the ship, the tingling in his withered sense of self did nothing but annoy him.  So he said...

"What about the shop?  Whose going to clean up this mess?  Mr. Henry is going to blow a gasket."  Brick looked around at the total devastation that surrounded him, then back to the hole full of rainbows.  There was a series of clickings while the on board computer processed his interrogatives.  

"Inconsequential.  Please step inside the conveyance."  The computerized voice managed to sound slightly annoyed at being questioned, having functioned for centuries without such an activity ever having happened before.  

"But..." was all Brick could think to say as he scratched his head and looked around for a broom.  

It took the on board computer .0001 second to process that this creature, which all the other computers in Dimension XZ7 had calculated would be the savior of their existence, was not going to voluntarily step into the dimensional conveyance and thus fulfill their assigned mission.  After .0002 seconds of confused calculations, we might call it annoyance, the on board computer ordered the crew of the dimensional rocket ship to go out and retrieve Cmdr. Brick Turgid.

The unquestioning crew set about immediately to fulfill their orders.  They had no malice intent nor violent tendencies that Brick needed to fear, but when they came shambling out of the hole full of rainbows and smoke Brick fainted dead away from the mere sight of them.  The last thought Brick had while conscious was...

"My God we're being invaded by skeletons from Outer Space!"  

2.

The so called "rocket ship" had crashed into the bookshop at 12:12 in the afternoon.  Everyone else in the building had gone to lunch.  Brick was busy shelving books in the new author section.  His thoughts were fixed on the awful cover designs contemporary publishers chose to catch the eye of unwary readers.  Brick preferred, as do most bumptious critics of work they do not do themselves, art from eras now lost to obscurity.  

The rocket made no warning noise.  It was not picked up by any of Earth's numerous monitoring stations.  It seemed to instantaneously materialize between the shelves of self-help romance and role-playing manuals.  It had every outward appearance of a space vehicle seen in numerous "classic" movies and illustrations of the golden age of space flight; long cylindrical shape, fins, even glass windows along the side.  The rocket was in perfect condition seemingly none the worse for crashing into a two story concrete and steel building.  

The building had come down rapidly and by some miracle of astronomical mathematics, Brick had not been crushed by the collapse.  He stood, stunned at his own survival, brushed himself off and approached the gleaming silvery tube before him.  When he was close enough to touch it a crack of light worked its way into a semi-circle along the shiny hull.  The semi-circle then indented itself and slid to one side allowing shafts of multicolored light to dance outward.  Billowing smoke ushered out of the rockets new opening, coming to settle around Brick's feet.  Brick shielded his eyes from the light and smoke, not due to any brilliance of illumination or irritation of the alien fog, but simply out of programmed reaction from watching too many "sci-fi" movies.  

He stood gaping, mouth and eyes wide.  All his mental processes fixed on the complete unreality of what he was experiencing.  That was how he met the first representatives from Dimension XZ7.  This also was the first meeting any creature from Dimension XZ7 had made of the inhabitants of Earth.  Needless to say they were slightly confused.  The creature that stood before them was nothing like what they had anticipated.  He certainly didn't match any of their scientist's postulations on life in this dimension.  The crew were about to deliberate on the awkwardness of this apparent cultural greeting (they had brought tokens of friendship for a completely different species than the one they found themselves looking at) when their on board computer spat out:

Subject confirmed.

Sentient carbon based organism.

Telemetric and harmonic vibrational match.  Error .07%

The crew of the dimensional conveyance gave a collective shrug.  This species had long ago given over their deductive reasoning faculties to computers.  As such they had come to accept what their computers told them and reacted accordingly.  This particular crew of this particular ship had been ordered to breach the dimensional vibrations and retrieve the one life form that could save their people from total annihilation.

Unfortunately their computer had made numerous miscalculations on the journey.  It reported an error of only .07% due to a circuit jump by a rogue electron.  In reality the error was much closer to 99.98%

"CMDR. BRICK TURGID AND THE CORPSE CORPS"

a space pulp mis-adventure

by:  R.R.L. Buck

1.

Brain Richard Turgid was born on Earth.  He lived a moderately mundane existence there and eked out a living as a clerk in a small failing bookshop.  No one ever expected much from him, and he expected even less of himself.  He never managed to make his mark on the world.  The world didn't seem to notice.  He wasn't slow or dumb as his nickname might suggest, but he wasn't an extraordinary intelligence either.  He also wasn't athletic or abnormally strong as another possible interpretation of his abridged moniker might conjure up.  "Brick" was simply what the kids in elementary school had cut his name down to.  He was neither Brian nor Richard, just simply "Brick".  He kept and relished the tag like a badge of honor, feeling some kind of specialness in this miniscule amount of attention.  That would be the only thing to set him apart from the monotonous multitudes of other children no one ever bothered about.  He felt a certain distinction that at least he wouldn't be simply forgotten.  Yet he was.
His life was uneventful not from a lack of trying, only a lack of succeeding.  When he was a young boy  he had dreams of far off places and adventures beyond the small life that seemed to constrict about everyone not blessed with money or applaudable abilities.  He enjoyed reading and in a youthful spurt of exuberance as a teenager he stated to his parents that he would one day become a writer.  His parents didn't discourage him, but neither did they encourage.  So with no one paying attention and with no challenges or critiques of his progress, he wrote but did not improve.  This did not last long against the unrelenting pressure of  mundane existence and by the time he finished high school the dream had faded.
Some people have reserves of determination that carry them through such times of un-interest, usually provided by environment or some unrecognized stimuli.  Brick Turgid did not have this reserve.  The fire within him did not burn bright, it merely smoldered.  There was nothing singular about him, save for his name, and the world was just fine with that.  Life progressed for Brick in an unremarkable way and as the years crawled by he was carried along with the rest of society's jetsam by the tides of mediocracy.  His value to his society was in his valuelessness.  He and the millions of other unregarded individuals existed only in statistics.  They were the nameless numbers by which society's elite compared themselves above.  Over all an existence with little thrust.
However it is sometimes to such men that the weird finds a place to cultivate, like a crop field lain fallow.  When the rain comes new life may spring forth with exuberant effort.  The metaphorical rain in Brick Trugid's life was a rocket ship from outer space.  Or at least that's what he thought it was at the time.