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Re: The night of the bugs.

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  • r.prevost@home.com
    ... ( Part II ) The Summonning Paw, you gotta see this! hollered Jeb Galoot. There s some kinda car convoy heading up to Carty s abandoned house. His
    Message 1 of 10 , Jul 1 4:16 PM
      --- In OAFs@y..., Richard Harding <rharding@i...> wrote:
      > The Night of the Bugs
      > A play in four parts by Lotta Deet

      ( Part II ) The Summonning

      "Paw, you gotta see this!" hollered Jeb Galoot. "There's some kinda
      car convoy heading up to Carty's abandoned house."

      His father came to stand by Jeb, to stare silently out the dirty
      windowpanes through his squinty eyelids. After a few moments, he
      grunted his displeasure.

      "They never seems to learn none, do they Jeb?" he said, frustrated,
      which followed by a sigh. "Guess we'll have to send out the welcome
      committee agin."

      Maw, as usual, had been sitting quietly in her rocker, taking this all
      in. She knew better than to add her two cents worth when her husband
      was in a foul mood 'bout anything. But when she heard the words
      "welcome committee" she knew that was her cue, so she got up and
      walked over the woodstove.

      "Jeb, could'ja fetch the big iron pot?" she nearly whispered.

      "Right away, Maw!" replied Jeb, eager to get some fun at the expense
      of these unwelcome visitors on the hill. Paw stuffed his old bone
      pipe and lit it, taking a few puffs before saying, with some degree of
      satisfaction. "Only a matter of time a'fore they gits the message
      too."

      Maw had always had this pretty strange affinity with all the creepy
      crawly things of the earth. It was something passed on in her family.
      She's had no daughters, so the "gift" would end with her. The pot
      and the awful smelling stuff she's put in it were just a show she put
      on for the men. They felt better thinking that it was a potion and
      not a super natch'ral gift. Anyway, this might well be one of the
      last times he gift would be used.

      "You gonna call up the bugs agin, right Maw?" asked an eager Jeb
      acting like his favorite radio hour was about to begin.

      "Yeah... I'll summon up all the crawly critters. Them `visitors'
      don't stand a chance in hades."

      And with that she began to boil the water for her cover. In fact, she
      was reaching out with her senses, and affecting the awareness of
      500,000 mosquitos, from about one mile around. It would take some of
      them a few hours to make the journey, but they'd be ready just after
      sunset. She could feel their mindless insect bloodlust, and she could
      lead them by it to their unaware prey. She would also partake of the
      insects' lust and satisfaction. She smiled with strange perverse
      anticipation.

      END OF PART TWO
      Someone else wanna take a "stab" at it?
    • Attilla Danko
      Part III: Attack Mode. CN-251 grimly sensed her glycogen reserves getting lower. The wind blew hard. She reconfigured her landing gear to grip more tightly the
      Message 2 of 10 , Jul 1 11:05 PM
        Part III: Attack Mode.

        CN-251 grimly sensed her glycogen reserves getting lower.
        The wind blew hard. She reconfigured her landing gear
        to grip more tightly the body of the light eater. It swayed.
        She applied all of her sensory processing power into detecting
        the tinyiest whiff of carbon dioxide. Nothing. She concentrated.
        Patterns formed then vanished as she strained to
        make sense of random sensor noise.

        But it was only noise.

        No declicious CO2. No uplifting CO2. No CO2 to make her attack
        mode come to life. No CO2 to make her lift engines sing.

        She carried the genes to make a hundred thousand daughters.
        She could anticipate that glory, but she was starving.

        The universe is not fair.

        Well, at least the air was not too dry to run her flight
        systems. But there was nothing to fly to. She set her self
        for power conservation mode and waited.

        A buzz disturbed her reverie. Her sister CN-2401 was reconfiguring
        her sensors for hunt mode. Hunt mode? But there was no CO2. Whats the point
        of sensing for water vapor gradients if there is no CO2? Then
        CD-5499 did the same. Confusion. She recallibrated her CO2 sensor
        array. Still nothing. A low thrumming shook her as CN-2401 engaged
        her lift engines and began a vertical acent. A moment later CD5499
        engaged and lifted off too. Sisters all around here were powering
        up their flight systems. They began to lift off in waves. The air
        was with their engine sounds. Absurdity!

        She was still diagnosing her CO2 sensor array. When it hit her.

        Her brain was on fire. Her nervous system drenched with neurotransmitters.
        Her sensor array came to life of its own accord. But the infrared was
        blank and the water vapor gradients were zero. It didnt seem to matter.
        IR gain set it self to high and she felt herself configuring her landing
        gear for launch. It was power and it was joy. It was wonderful in a
        sickly wrong way. But she could almost feel her future daughers being
        hatched. It was insanity. But she didnt wait for the insanity to configure
        her flight mode. She did that herself. Her lift engines came to
        life with a thrum more powerful that she could have belived on her
        low glycogen supply.

        She climbled powerfully into the sky. The shafts of light eaters fell
        rapidy behind her. She wheeled around and set course as if she
        had target lock. But her infrared was dead. H2O gradients dead.
        She just didnt care about the CO2 any more.

        The wind was fierce. The tuburlence knocker her sideways. She
        narrowly missed CD-62051. Air velocities were well outside her
        design evelope. She consumed glycogen at a prodigious rate.
        By all rights she should be heading for cover.
        But she flew on. Into the horrible wind.

        Behind her, wave after wave of her sisters arose. By the hundreds.
        By the hundred thousands. All on the same bearing.
        All flying with dead sensors. All locked on a flight bearing
        towards nothing. All desparate to lock onto a real target.
        All too giddy, too hungry to care.

        She flew on an on. A thousand wing lengths. Then another thousand.
        The turbulence grew stronger. Another thousand.
        This was beyond sense. Beyond what evolution had tuned her
        flight systems for. But the elation stayed wither her. Far more
        delicious than CO2. Far more exciting. A hundred thousand of
        her sisters flew with her. Flight engines at maximum effort.
        Sensor arrays blank.

        Twenty three thousand insane wing lengths later she flew low
        over a hummock of light eaters. In the distance rose an infrared
        glow. It grew bigger as she apparched. It was huge. Far larger
        than any target she had tracked before. It glowed hot against
        the cool infrared sky.

        Then her attack array detected water vapor. No, not merely "detect".
        She was awash. The target was enourmous and venting unimaginable
        quantities of water vapor. The target was too big, she needed
        terminal guidance. She powered her octenol and fatty-acid
        sensor array. She was nearly overwhelemed with the signal.
        Her sensors were saturating. This target was enormous and
        juicy beyong imagining.

        She flew up. Below her, her sisters were landing and configuring themselves
        to drill. There where hundreds attacking. But the target could feed a hundred
        thousand. There would be food for all.

        But in her rear IR vision, she could see a white-hot mass approching
        at high speed. It was a hundred wingbeats wide. It zoomed toward her
        dilling sisters. They saw the demon approach. Closer. Closer.
        It crashed upon her sisters maiming and crushing a dozen. Precious
        food spurted from the ruptured cargo bays of her siblings.

        There was nothing she could do. Nothing, but attack.

        She flew up.

        In the distance she could her her sisters dying. Some could not
        land because chemical weapons had fouled their terminal
        guidance systems. Others were being crushed by fast moving things
        that were bright in the infrared.

        She had to ignore the threat. This was her only chance to attack
        and find food. Her only chance to carry the precious genes she
        carried to their destiny.

        She flew up. She skimmed the vertical surface of the vast target.
        Octenol readings were too high to be useful. She re-callibrated her
        water vapor gradient sensor to *reduce* sensitivity. Then she could
        sense the top of the target. The flew over the hemispherical surface,
        skimming the enourmous dome. There in the center, undefended by
        protien spears, she landed.

        It was a curious surface. It was covered with criss-crossed ropes
        of some tasteless polymer. She configured her landing gear for drilling.
        But, the ropes shifted and she launched into the air. She heard the coms-
        traffic of countless numbers of her sisters advising each other to land
        when the rope net was still and flat. She waited.

        The dome below her moved up behind a giant shadow. The shadow thing
        was dark in the infrared. The dome held it self very still, just
        touching a dark cylinder of some sort. It was an unnatural pause.

        Never mind. She saw her chance and dove for the surface. Her landing
        gear was already in grapple mode and her salivary glands were
        pumping as she hit the surface. She powered her drill engine. With
        a wonderfull feeling of power, her drill sank into the keratin
        surface of the dome-target. Her anticipation swelled.

        Then she broke though into the food layer! She pumped anticouagulent
        furiously. One hundred and twenty five nano liters. It was all she
        could muster. Then she began pumping out food.

        It was wonderful. It was so real, so tasty, so full of protein
        and glycogen, so full of the voices of her unborn daughers.

        She had pumped a microliter when she caught a glimpse of that bright
        infrared thing that had crushed her sisters. She kept pumping. If she
        stopped, she would never lay eggs and her descendants would never
        be. She needed three whole micoliters or she would be unworthy of
        150 million years of evolution. If she was still drilling when the
        infrared-bright thing came, the universe would be as if
        she had never been hatched.

        She *pumped*.

        ...

        One and a half microliters. The bright thing turned. Her sisters began
        to land around her.

        Two microliters. The bright thing was closing. Her hull plates began
        to creak and slide apart as her food overfilled her fuselage.

        Two and a half microliters. The bright thing crashed onto the
        dome fifty wing lengths away.

        She *pumped*.

        The bright thing swept towards her. It crushed CN-54041. CN-561211
        attempted emergency takeoff, but couldnt extract her drill. She was
        maimed horribly.

        The bright maimer swept closer.

        Three microliters! She hastily withdrew her drill. She snapped it
        back into its sheath with a twang just as her lift engines began
        to thrum. She attempted take off.

        She was heavy. She lifted slowly... so slowly. The
        bright maimer swept closer and closer and swept just below
        her. She detected octenol traces as the tubulence spun her over.
        It was some kind of counter-attacking target.

        No matter. She had her precious cargo. She powered down her
        sensor array. She would need all her glycogen to run her
        flight systems. The temptation to stop and savor her sweet
        cargo was great, but she flew on, sure in the knowlege
        that a hundred thousand Children of the Night
        would rise to follow her.

        The universe was hers.
      • Richard Harding
        I am in awe....I have been humbled by the master.....I am not worthy!!!! Wow Attilla!! Good stuff that switch to the other side . However, write 5 volumes,
        Message 3 of 10 , Jul 2 3:52 AM
          I am in awe....I have been humbled by the master.....I am not worthy!!!!
          Wow Attilla!! Good stuff that switch to the "other side". However, write 5 volumes, and I will still feel no pity.....Nuke'em all!!!
          Ahem.....Mike and Ziggy....Rob...??? I am dying to hear what happens to Chad, Lucretia, Ma, Pa,.....Snidely Whiplash.....

          Sir Richard

          ps. "I smell a Pulitzer"
        • r.prevost@home.com
          Very, very nice indeed, Attilla! Perfect, dead on, mood. Wow, nicely modulated!! :- ... the point ... neurotransmitters. ... was ... matter. ... landing ...
          Message 4 of 10 , Jul 2 6:11 AM
            Very, very nice indeed, Attilla! Perfect, dead on, mood. Wow,
            nicely modulated!! :->

            --- In OAFs@y..., "Attilla Danko" <attilla.danko@s...> wrote:
            > Part III: Attack Mode.
            >
            > CN-251 grimly sensed her glycogen reserves getting lower.
            > The wind blew hard. She reconfigured her landing gear
            > to grip more tightly the body of the light eater. It swayed.
            > She applied all of her sensory processing power into detecting
            > the tinyiest whiff of carbon dioxide. Nothing. She concentrated.
            > Patterns formed then vanished as she strained to
            > make sense of random sensor noise.
            >
            > But it was only noise.
            >
            > No declicious CO2. No uplifting CO2. No CO2 to make her attack
            > mode come to life. No CO2 to make her lift engines sing.
            >
            > She carried the genes to make a hundred thousand daughters.
            > She could anticipate that glory, but she was starving.
            >
            > The universe is not fair.
            >
            > Well, at least the air was not too dry to run her flight
            > systems. But there was nothing to fly to. She set her self
            > for power conservation mode and waited.
            >
            > A buzz disturbed her reverie. Her sister CN-2401 was reconfiguring
            > her sensors for hunt mode. Hunt mode? But there was no CO2. Whats
            the point
            > of sensing for water vapor gradients if there is no CO2? Then
            > CD-5499 did the same. Confusion. She recallibrated her CO2 sensor
            > array. Still nothing. A low thrumming shook her as CN-2401 engaged
            > her lift engines and began a vertical acent. A moment later CD5499
            > engaged and lifted off too. Sisters all around here were powering
            > up their flight systems. They began to lift off in waves. The air
            > was with their engine sounds. Absurdity!
            >
            > She was still diagnosing her CO2 sensor array. When it hit her.
            >
            > Her brain was on fire. Her nervous system drenched with
            neurotransmitters.
            > Her sensor array came to life of its own accord. But the infrared
            was
            > blank and the water vapor gradients were zero. It didnt seem to
            matter.
            > IR gain set it self to high and she felt herself configuring her
            landing
            > gear for launch. It was power and it was joy. It was wonderful in a
            > sickly wrong way. But she could almost feel her future daughers
            being
            > hatched. It was insanity. But she didnt wait for the insanity to
            configure
            > her flight mode. She did that herself. Her lift engines came to
            > life with a thrum more powerful that she could have belived on her
            > low glycogen supply.
            >
            > She climbled powerfully into the sky. The shafts of light eaters
            fell
            > rapidy behind her. She wheeled around and set course as if she
            > had target lock. But her infrared was dead. H2O gradients dead.
            > She just didnt care about the CO2 any more.
            >
            > The wind was fierce. The tuburlence knocker her sideways. She
            > narrowly missed CD-62051. Air velocities were well outside her
            > design evelope. She consumed glycogen at a prodigious rate.
            > By all rights she should be heading for cover.
            > But she flew on. Into the horrible wind.
            >
            > Behind her, wave after wave of her sisters arose. By the hundreds.
            > By the hundred thousands. All on the same bearing.
            > All flying with dead sensors. All locked on a flight bearing
            > towards nothing. All desparate to lock onto a real target.
            > All too giddy, too hungry to care.
            >
            > She flew on an on. A thousand wing lengths. Then another thousand.
            > The turbulence grew stronger. Another thousand.
            > This was beyond sense. Beyond what evolution had tuned her
            > flight systems for. But the elation stayed wither her. Far more
            > delicious than CO2. Far more exciting. A hundred thousand of
            > her sisters flew with her. Flight engines at maximum effort.
            > Sensor arrays blank.
            >
            > Twenty three thousand insane wing lengths later she flew low
            > over a hummock of light eaters. In the distance rose an infrared
            > glow. It grew bigger as she apparched. It was huge. Far larger
            > than any target she had tracked before. It glowed hot against
            > the cool infrared sky.
            >
            > Then her attack array detected water vapor. No, not merely "detect".
            > She was awash. The target was enourmous and venting unimaginable
            > quantities of water vapor. The target was too big, she needed
            > terminal guidance. She powered her octenol and fatty-acid
            > sensor array. She was nearly overwhelemed with the signal.
            > Her sensors were saturating. This target was enormous and
            > juicy beyong imagining.
            >
            > She flew up. Below her, her sisters were landing and configuring
            themselves
            > to drill. There where hundreds attacking. But the target could feed
            a hundred
            > thousand. There would be food for all.
            >
            > But in her rear IR vision, she could see a white-hot mass approching
            > at high speed. It was a hundred wingbeats wide. It zoomed toward her
            > dilling sisters. They saw the demon approach. Closer. Closer.
            > It crashed upon her sisters maiming and crushing a dozen. Precious
            > food spurted from the ruptured cargo bays of her siblings.
            >
            > There was nothing she could do. Nothing, but attack.
            >
            > She flew up.
            >
            > In the distance she could her her sisters dying. Some could not
            > land because chemical weapons had fouled their terminal
            > guidance systems. Others were being crushed by fast moving things
            > that were bright in the infrared.
            >
            > She had to ignore the threat. This was her only chance to attack
            > and find food. Her only chance to carry the precious genes she
            > carried to their destiny.
            >
            > She flew up. She skimmed the vertical surface of the vast target.
            > Octenol readings were too high to be useful. She re-callibrated her
            > water vapor gradient sensor to *reduce* sensitivity. Then she could
            > sense the top of the target. The flew over the hemispherical
            surface,
            > skimming the enourmous dome. There in the center, undefended by
            > protien spears, she landed.
            >
            > It was a curious surface. It was covered with criss-crossed ropes
            > of some tasteless polymer. She configured her landing gear for
            drilling.
            > But, the ropes shifted and she launched into the air. She heard the
            coms-
            > traffic of countless numbers of her sisters advising each other to
            land
            > when the rope net was still and flat. She waited.
            >
            > The dome below her moved up behind a giant shadow. The shadow thing
            > was dark in the infrared. The dome held it self very still, just
            > touching a dark cylinder of some sort. It was an unnatural pause.
            >
            > Never mind. She saw her chance and dove for the surface. Her landing
            > gear was already in grapple mode and her salivary glands were
            > pumping as she hit the surface. She powered her drill engine. With
            > a wonderfull feeling of power, her drill sank into the keratin
            > surface of the dome-target. Her anticipation swelled.
            >
            > Then she broke though into the food layer! She pumped anticouagulent
            > furiously. One hundred and twenty five nano liters. It was all she
            > could muster. Then she began pumping out food.
            >
            > It was wonderful. It was so real, so tasty, so full of protein
            > and glycogen, so full of the voices of her unborn daughers.
            >
            > She had pumped a microliter when she caught a glimpse of that bright
            > infrared thing that had crushed her sisters. She kept pumping. If
            she
            > stopped, she would never lay eggs and her descendants would never
            > be. She needed three whole micoliters or she would be unworthy of
            > 150 million years of evolution. If she was still drilling when the
            > infrared-bright thing came, the universe would be as if
            > she had never been hatched.
            >
            > She *pumped*.
            >
            > ...
            >
            > One and a half microliters. The bright thing turned. Her sisters
            began
            > to land around her.
            >
            > Two microliters. The bright thing was closing. Her hull plates began
            > to creak and slide apart as her food overfilled her fuselage.
            >
            > Two and a half microliters. The bright thing crashed onto the
            > dome fifty wing lengths away.
            >
            > She *pumped*.
            >
            > The bright thing swept towards her. It crushed CN-54041. CN-561211
            > attempted emergency takeoff, but couldnt extract her drill. She was
            > maimed horribly.
            >
            > The bright maimer swept closer.
            >
            > Three microliters! She hastily withdrew her drill. She snapped it
            > back into its sheath with a twang just as her lift engines began
            > to thrum. She attempted take off.
            >
            > She was heavy. She lifted slowly... so slowly. The
            > bright maimer swept closer and closer and swept just below
            > her. She detected octenol traces as the tubulence spun her over.
            > It was some kind of counter-attacking target.
            >
            > No matter. She had her precious cargo. She powered down her
            > sensor array. She would need all her glycogen to run her
            > flight systems. The temptation to stop and savor her sweet
            > cargo was great, but she flew on, sure in the knowlege
            > that a hundred thousand Children of the Night
            > would rise to follow her.
            >
            > The universe was hers.
          • attilla.danko@sympatico.ca
            ... Amusing and very well writen. I especially liked the SF angle. I hope other OAFS will forgive us sucumming to an off topic thread. -ad
            Message 5 of 10 , Jul 2 5:38 PM
              --- In OAFs@y..., r.prevost@h... wrote:
              > --- In OAFs@y..., Richard Harding <rharding@i...> wrote:
              > > The Night of the Bugs
              > > A play in four parts by Lotta Deet
              >
              > ( Part II ) The Summonning

              Amusing and very well writen. I especially liked the SF angle.

              I hope other OAFS will forgive us sucumming to an off topic
              thread.

              -ad
            • attilla.danko@sympatico.ca
              ... all!!! ... Sir Richard, I wouldnt want you to think I had any fondness for those little terrible breeding machines. Nuke em all! Ahem. Slighly more
              Message 6 of 10 , Jul 2 5:49 PM
                --- In OAFs@y..., Richard Harding <rharding@i...> wrote:
                >However, write 5 volumes, and I will still feel no pity.....Nuke'em
                all!!!

                :) thanks.

                Sir Richard, I wouldnt want you to think I had any fondness for
                those little terrible breeding machines. Nuke'em all!


                Ahem. Slighly more on-topic:

                I'd like to try spraying Permethrin on my bug suit. But Matt and
                others have mentioned that Permethrin is a no-no in Canada. The
                only info I can find on the web says that Permethrin is a controlled
                substance when used as a agricultural pesticide.

                Anyone know if its legal to import in one-bug-suit quantities?
                Or how I would find out.

                -ad
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