Somewhere a virtual realm flickers into existance with the turning of a
key. Two
shadowy figure, shrouded in long, flowing cloaks push open a door. It's
somewhat stuck
and takes a fair bit of grunting.
One of the figures is carrying an extensive toolkit in a side-slung bag,
which it
employs in various arcane rituals, culminating in the sudden existance of
another door.
This also is opened, and passed through.
"It's been a long time", says the one without a toolkit, "do you think
there'll be any
-thing ... dangerous ... in there?"
"That's why _you're_ going first!" the other replies.
"Me?" the first exclaims.
"You're virtual," the first explains, "nothing in there can kill you."
"Oh."
"Probably." the second mutters, too low to be heard.
The first figure goes to a low chest, built next to a wall and opens it,
withdrawing
a pane of glass which he hangs in midair.
On the glass suddenly appears letters of light spelling out the words,
"Connect? (Y) N"
The figure pushes (Y) with a gloved finger. Mysterious noises occur. New
letters on
the glass spell out, "Connected ..."
The first figure says, "Doesn't look like there's any problem ..."
As it turns to speak to the second figure the glass pane dissapears,
leaving the
glowing letters floating in mid-air. The figure is suddenly cut off by the
appearance
of a massive shadow, looming above it.
The second figure squawks, and dissappears in the instantaneous manner of the
virtually unreal. The first turns around slowly and looks up, the spins in
place and
begins to flee for its life.
Through the strange corridors of a dream the figure flies, turning
super-deformed and
spinning its little legs in the manner of Wile E. Coyote running away from
his just
deserts, pursued by shadow and rumble/rustle of a falling stack of paper.
As usual, the end comes just before safety, inundating the poor figure in
an enormous
pile of envelopes, novels and bound manuscripts, punctuated by small cans
of Spam.
>From under the edge of the pile one arm is left protruding enough to twitch.
Over it, glowing letters form in mid-air, "Mail Waiting. 15000+ messages.
Begin
Download? (Y) N"
With a mighty effort the arm twitches enough debris away to reach up and
stab the
(Y) before falling back flat.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Hey. I'm back. As some of you may have guessed, I lost my father to
Congestive Heart
Failure early in March. While I can genuinely say that it was a mercy at
the end, it
has not made the last two months easier.
I'm talking about the beauracracy of the thing here. Not to mention the
final death
of my family's car and the need to get a new one and more computer troubles
than
I feel were strictly necessary.
I'm still picking up debris from the last of these and in the process I
lost my
net access briefly. Now in another four to six weeks I'll have as much net
access as I
want. But first Southern Bell has to get off its ass and install my T1. In
the
meanwhile desperate improvisation (read, begging and pleading) has regained
my access
and saved my mail.
However, it _is_ going to take a while to get through it all.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
On another topic, my musae (muses? musen?) have been flitting about and
looking
at ten things at once, flighty beasts that they are. So the rest of RAALS 5A,
including the revisions from C&C will take a bit longer. No, I'm not going to
embarrass myself by naming a date at this point.
On the other hand having flitting Musae allows on to contemplate several
new and
(I think) exceedingly cool stories. So I may have more than just RAALS to
give you.
And finally, on the gripping hand, and despite the last, I was recently
struck with
an Idea. Unfortunately, while it gave me the start of a fic, it did not
give me any-
where to _go_ with it.
Therefor.
I hereby announce the first Anansi-FFML Web Space Contest.
Below I have included the start of a fic. Yes, it's Ranma. Yes, it's an
alterverse.
Quit whimpering, I haven't told you yet. In it I have left open not one,
not two,
but _five_, count them _five_ places to continue a story.
Write a story around one of them. Hell, write a story around _all_ of them
at once.
It's set up so that you can do this. Complete a story of _at least_ 30K, or
write a
piece of a completed story of at least 100K (thats 100K already written, if
the story
is bigger than that). You have until Bell-South gets off its ass, and I get
my server
up, and such time after that as I find amusing. Send the story to the FFML,
or direct
to me at hallcon@mindspring.com. Mark it [First Anansi Web Space Contest].
Or similar.
The story that I think is the best, both as a story and in continuing the
concept,
will win its proud author one (1) megabyte of free web space per two (2)
Kilobytes
of story (from 30K to 100K) (that's 15Mb to 50Mb) without stupid
commercials or
restrictions on what you can store there (though see below), for as long as
I'm alive
and the server stays on the web, amen.
Now where can you get a better deal than that? Right.
After I make my decision, I will put up a web page holding all the
submitted stories,
and a form for the general public to vote on their preferences. The winner
of _this_
round gets half what the first one got, same conditions.
No, I can't get you net access or email. Abuse of my hospitality by putting
up an
excessively acessed site (like porn, say) will be subject to serious LARTage.
But you didn't want me mad at you anyway, ne?
Here's the start. This took about an hour and a half this evening.
Disclaimer: The situations and characters depicted in this fanfiction
may or may not be drawn from sources copyrighted by other people than
myself. I make no claim on those which aren't mine.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
A dark pit, filled with claws. And a small voice, crying. "Poppa! Ow!
Please ... ow ... please stop, kitties. I like _you_, I always liked you,
why are you hurting ... ai! ... me? Please!"
Pain and blood; desperation, need and desire. What else do you need
for magic? And Ranma cried out "Why?" And something answered.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Darkness hung complete now, heavy with the smell of cat and thick
with the virtual ozone prickle of anticipation. But at least nothing was
clawing him. Ranma splayed out flat and small, trying to keep himself hid
as his father had taught him. Shakily, he wiped the sweat from his face
(it stung in the many tiny cuts across his cheek and arms) and swiveled
around, trying to see.
Light, suddenly, faint and blue, came from _behind_ him. Ranma tried
to swing around suddenly while also keeping low to the ground on his splayed
out limbs, and failed to complete either task. With a thump, he sprawled
onto his backside and threw out his hands to either side to stabilize him-
self, tried to rise, and froze.
Sitting on a slight rise in front of him, outlined in a pale blue glow,
was the Great-Great-Great-Granddaddy of All Felines. By it's shape, some-
thing tigerish at about twenty feet long. It was flanked on each side by
what seemed to Ranma to be about half of all the alley-cats in the world,
dark and grey and marked only by pale glow reflecting from their eyes.
"Umm ..." Ranma felt about for something to say to break the silence,
"nice kitty?"
Its voice was deep and resonant, with savage, piercing overtones. A
compilation of every tiger's growl, every leopard's scream, every alley
cat's war-hiss in all the world. "No." it said.
"No," it rose from its seat and stalked forward, towards Ranma, "I don't
think so at all." Ranma shrank back and gulped, but at the same time
yearned forward, to see if the deep black fur was a soft as it appeared.
"You say you are a friend," the great cat went on, "yet you try to steal
my favor, the secret of Cat. Why should I be 'nice kitty'?"
"I, I wasn't tryin' ta steal nuthin', honest!" Ranma quavered. "Poppa
said I had to go inta the pit, so I'd get strong. I gotta be strong ta be
a Man among Men." Feebly he reached out to try to pat the great leg now
thrust down next to him.
The great cat jumped backwards with a hiss-snarl, savagely loud. Ranma
shrank back into a small, terrified, ball and froze. "Oh, of _course_!" it
snarled, "You only wanted to get 'strong'! That is certainly an acceptable
reason to pervert my rituals and call the favor of Cat upon someone who
_I_ never marked. Who _I_ never called. Who does not seem to be of _my_
people or of _my_ naming. Certainly. Yet what is this I smell? Someone
seems to have prior claim. Tell me, Child of Man; what is thy name?"
"Ranma," Ranma semi-whispered in terror, "my name's Ranma."
"Indeed. _Ranma_. Wild _horse_, I believe. So tell me, young Ranma,
why you want to have the power of Cat to be strong. You are named for
Horse are you not? If you want to be 'strong' and a 'Male among Males' I
believe these fall into the portfolio of your namesake. Why do you not
call upon Horse's favor, planteater, perhaps _he_ will aid thee."
"Indeed," said a voice made up of squeals and neighs and the thunder
of thousands of hooves, "perhaps I will."
Ranma jerked his head to the side as Cat flowed to one side of the small
depression in which Ranma lay. On the other side stood Horse; a stallion
built to the same proportion to other horses as Cat was to other cats,
glowing a soft white and backed by many pale yellow or grey horses on
a more normal scale. Cat lowered his ears as the ally-cats in his train
began transmuting into dark and shadowy tigers and lions.
"Continue your line of reasoning, brother Cat. I too am curious as to
why your flea-ridden furbags are menacing one of _my_ humans."
"_Your_ humans, clover-stalker? Have your feeble wits gone begging
entirely? The marks of his consecration to _me_ are over him."
Horse swelled his chest and flared his nostrils, mincing forward a
pace. "Perhaps my ears deceive me slightly," he rumbled, "but I _thought_
I had heard you remark that the child bore _my_ sign."
Cat lowered his head and crouched down, flexing a paw full of six-inch
ivory claws. "_Once_ perhaps. _Once_. Now he is _mine_. Mine to grant
power and favor, or ... not."
"Yours?" Horse rumbled, lowering his ears and shaking his head. He
minced slightly sideways, and Cat swiveled slightly, tensing. Caught between
the two titans, Ranma whimpered.
"Still," said Cat suddenly, sitting up and wraping his tail around his
feet, "there _is_ an easy solution to this problem ...."
"Oh, indeed?" said Horse, warily backing up a step or two.
"Oh, in_deed_." said Cat. "After all, if one is unsure of someone's
loyalties, should not one ask? Oh Child of Man, you said that you only
wanted to be 'friends'? Well then, you need only say _who_ you wish to be
friends _with_. And then this matter can be speedily ..." the car-door
sized jaws swung closed with a *thud*, "... _resolved_."
"An eminently acceptable _resolution_, brother Cat. Indeed, Child of
Man," thunder of hooves, "_choose_."
"Yes," roars and growls, "_choose_."
Somewhere in the darkness, something chuckled. Do you believe in cusp
points? In the places where the destinies of men and worlds divide? They
believe in you ...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
... and "I don't like _either_ of you," Ranma cried, "you're _mean_!
Leave me alone!"
"So be it!" Snarls and thunder.
And Genma barely caught his son as the explosion blew him out of the
pit. 'An explosion? It wasn't supposed to do that!' When he got to a safe
distance from the burning pit and put the boy down to examine him, his
heart nearly stopped. Deep gashes and what looked like bruises to the
point of broken bones covered Ranma's arms and legs and there was a very
unpleasant blue tinge to his lips.
Fortunately, Genma's life and training had given him a good grounding
in emergency medical techniques. 'My son!'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
... and Ranma barely managed to whisper, "Nice kitty."
"So be it!" Growling roars as deep as all the caverns under earth.
And Genma came to attentiveness as the random yowls suddenly sounded
as one voice. He blinked at the sight of a swarm of alley-cats leaping out
the pit in a swarm of paws and fur, as though guided by a single mind.
'Hey, wait a minute!' he thought, 'They're attacking me! OH, SH...."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
... and Ranma croaked out, "My name's _Ranma_."
"So be it!" Thunder of a thousand hooves over a thousand miles of open
plains.
And Genma came to attentiveness as the random yowls suddenly sounded
as one, panicked, voice. He blinked at the sight of a swarm of alley-cats
leaping out the pit in a swarm of paws and fur, as though fleeing something
truly awful.
'Hey, wait a minute!' he thought, 'They're going to run over _me_! OH,
SH...."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
"But I don' wanna 'choose'," Ranma whined, "can't I be friends with
_both_ of you?"
"Ummm." "Errr."
"You're both so pretty .... Please?"
There are forces in the world that can resist eight-year-old kawaiiness.
Even tear-streaked, timid, eight-year-old kawaiiness. Great totem spirits
are not known for being among them.
"Errrr."
And Genma came to a startled attentivness as the yowls from within the
pit stopped. He stalked over to the edge and peered in to see his son
engaged in the highly unmanly practice of petting a bunch of cats. "Ranma!,"
he roared, "If you're not going to train properly then get up here and
spar!"
"Okay, Poppa!" Ranma said brightly and jumped out of the pit. No, not
jumped. Flowed ....
Shortly Genma was lying on the ground shaking his head. "Silly Poppa!"
said Ranma, cheerfully, "Why're ya lyin' on the ground? I thought ya
wanted ta spar!"
"Ah ... not just now, M'boy." Genma said shakily, "Do some kata so I
can ... ah ... evaluate your progress."
Genma shook his head and stood up. He'd have to be a lot more careful
about keeping track of Ranma's progress, obviously; and a lot sneakier,
too. And no more untested training manuals, this wasn't meant to be
dangerous to _him_.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
... and something snickered in the darkness. "But why should he have
to _choose_, brothers?" said a new voice. "After all, a lad with such
_potential_ ...." it came from a small (which is to say, normal size),
dirty dog-like animal, sitting on its haunches equidistant between Horse
and Cat. _Probably_ small, and _probably_ doglike. It was hard to tell
for sure.
"Would it not be better for him to be friend to us _all_? Then you,
brother Cat, could favor him with speed and claws; and you, brother Horse,
could give him strength and ... _stamina_. And I could tell him secrets,
oh such secrets I could tell him! Doesn't that sound better, Ranma?"
Ranma shook his head to clear it. "Ummm, yeah? Sure!"
"_Ex_cellent! Then it is settled!"
"Ummm." "Errr."
And Genma was awakened from a light doze by Ranma shaking his arm.
Grinning like a loon, Ranma said, "Com'on, old man, wake up! I wanna get
going!"
"Ranma!" Genma snapped, "We're staying here 'til you master this tech-
nique!"
"Yeah, yeah! I _did_ that. Boring! Come _on_, let's _go_!"
Dazedly, Genma allowed himself to be towed. Boring? Well, he'd have to
try something else, then.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Genma breathed a great sigh of relief. After four days, it looked
as though Ranma was waking up. He would have to do better, he knew, this
had been too close. Too greedy, he silently judged. Too eager for his
son's sake.
Well it was obvious that _that_ was a bad thing to be, and he was just
lucky that he had been able to overcome his own folly and keep the boy
alive. He would have to keep to tested techniques henceforth. If it took
a little longer, it took a little longer; it wasn't as though he was on
a schedule. This was to be the culmination of his life, he could afford
the time it took to do it right.
He wondered if he should stop a temple for a while. Perhaps he could
consult with someone who knew what methods were safe to use and how to
judge. In any case, no more untested training methods, and he must be
more careful.
Gently, he stroked the boy's fine hair. It was his son, after all, his
_only_ son. He couldn't afford to lose him. He loved him too much.
Slowly the blue eyes opened. "poppa?"
"Yes Ranma, it's me. You're going to be alright. And Ranma?"
"uhhuh?"
"I'm sorry, and I love you."
"'sokay, poppa. i love you, too."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Covered in bandages, Genma trudged up the road. Behind him, Ranma
followed, frowning.
He wasn't fully weaned yet, he knew. Still, lessons to learn. But that
old tom had better watch out. He wasn't going to put up with ear-cuffs
forever. Someday he'd break free, hunt on his own, maybe even find a mate.
He grinned nastily at his father's back. Sometimes toms who don't know
how ... old ... they're getting get their _own_ ears cuffed, in the end.
'Who knows,' he thought, 'could be fun.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Covered in bandages, Genma trudged up the road. Behind him, Ranma
followed, frowning.
He wasn't ready to leave the herd yet, he knew. Inside, he shivered
at the thought. But his sire had better watch out. Herd-leaders get _old_,
and colts grow up.
He grinned nastily at his father's back. One day _he'd_ be the
stallion.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
With a small bandage around his head, Genma trudged up the road.
Ranma bounced along behind him, grinning cheerfully.
This was fun! He'd never had friends he didn't have to go away from
before, and being stronger and faster was really neat, too!
He wondered why he hadn't thought of it before, and resolved to keep
his eyes open in the future. Might be a whole _lot_ of friends out there!
Never know until you look.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
Frowning distractedly at a guidebook, Genma trudged up the road. Behind
him Ranma followed, quietly.
Briefly, he ragarded his father's back. And grinned, as though he knew
a secret.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
And somewhere Coyote, who is also Raven, who is also Kokopelli, who is
also Pan, who is also Bacchus, who is also Ishtar, who is also Hermes,
who is also Serpent, who is also Chung Kuel, who is also Utgard Loki, who
is also Hanuman, who is also Kwaku Ananasi (when he can be bothered),
chucked, sniggered, and grinned like a maniac.
And danced a little dance on his lover, the Earth. And yipped a little
song to his lover, the Moon. And threw back his wise, grizzled, ancient,
terrible head.
And laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Beginning.
--
It's me, myself, and I against the world. Divide and CONQUER!
-R Jason Valentine
yr. vr. obt. svt. Eric Hallstrom
Eric Hallstrom
hallcon@mindspring.com