#the crackle as the picture and audio faded onto the screen | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seaswalllow · 3 years

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concept below :P

snippet one is mostly establishing format, snippet two, though... ;]

> User: E@>>J registered.

> Audio components active. Visuals active.

The camera's screen flickers. It is held in a surprisingly steady hand, although its wielder is excitable- and loud. As the pixels resolve themselves into a grainy picture that steadily sharpens, you can make out grass underfoot.

Shadows flicker on the edges. They resolve, too, into the shadows of two other boys.

> User: EF33@ registered.

> User: C2?3@@ registered.

The voices of all three fade in.

> "-did you bring the extra flashlights? Batteries? Snacks?"

The camera-holder scoffs. From your angle, you can see him dig the toe of a scuffed sneaker into the earth.

> "Yes, I did. Water, too. I'm not an idiot."

Speculative noises arise from his companions. He pans the camera up aggressively, zooming in on the shorter one who makes direct eye-contact and shrugs.

> "You're excitable."

The taller one seems more careful with his words. This earns another aggressive- relatively over the top- scoff.

> "And you're a bitch, Ranboo. Ranboob."

> "Well now that was just uncalled for-"

Ranboo's protests are overlapped by the camera-holder walking forward, and beginning to talk.

> "Let's get going! It'll be nighttime by the time we get there, and you'll want to go back because you're a little bitch-"

> "Because we don't want to break our necks-"

The camera is snatched amidst the argument; the camera flips enough for you to see that it is the other boy waving to you.

> "While they argue, we'll keep walking. We're walking down to this ravine that Tommy had found."

As he speaks, he briefly pans over to the boy arguing with Ranboo, before returning to the path in front of them. In front of you, the woods loom. This close to the edge, sunlight dapples the floor.

The boys overhear him, and their arguing seems to cease. Tommy speeds up to walk in front of the camera.

> "Tommy, is there anything that you wanted to tell us about the ravine?"

> "It's haunted, bitch."

This draws a yelp from their companion. Tommy's expression twitches with a barely concealed smile; neither the camera holder nor Ranboo seem as amused. The camera holder skirts around a tree, and you watch as a squirrel scuttles past.

> "What do you mean, haunted? Tommy, what do you mean haunted?"

> "There's no way that it's haunted. You're trying to get a spook out of us."

Ranboo and the camera holder's complaints overlap. Tommy waves a hand dismissively at the camera.

> "Take a look and find out, Tubbo. There's supposedly a sad little man who wanders around the place, playing with the lanterns-"

This time, the camera pans up again to Ranboo, who shakes his head at it.

> "This is going to end so badly."

> "It'll be fine! Just don't pussy out and run off on your own!"

A huff sounds from behind you. Tubbo pans the camera around to catch more of the forest; here, the undergrowth sprawls wildly about the floor, and it nearly trips Tommy up. Birdsong grows fainter, and fainter, and Ranboo rubs at his arms.

> "Should I turn the camera off until we get there? I'll save its batteries."

> "We brought extra, it'll be fine!"

> "Besides, if we end up getting murdered in the forest, at least someone can stumble onto the camera-"

> "Someone's just gonna leave the camera behind, right-"

The three boys' arguments overlap each other, but Tubbo does not shut the camera off.

Tommy brings the group to a stop in front of a hill. From behind Ranboo, you can't see why they've halted; when Tubbo pans the camera around, you can see the cave entrance.

The sunlight hardly reaches you here, thick as the canopy is. It doesn't stretch much further into the cavern.

Tommy pulls out a torch, and flicks it on. Ranboo does not follow suit; Tubbo does.

> "So this is the ravine. It goes down a passage, and then supposedly opens up."

> "I still say this is a bad, bad idea. We are going to break something, we are going to get murdered-"

> "We'll be fine. We're three big men, we can take whatever bitches try to jump us. I'll just flex- and punch them-"

> "And break your hand."

Tubbo sounds amused; Ranboo has hesitantly taken out a torch and flicked it on.

> "You go on then, bossman. You want to show us this badly, you go first."

> "Fine! Fine."

Tommy steps into the cavern; the camera is panned down to note that the floor dips down immediately within the entrance. He forges on, further, gravel crackling underfoot.

The party pauses at indentations in the floor, scrapes around it- Tommy pokes it with a foot. The camera zooms in on it.

> "Looks like somebody hollowed out this place at least a little. Did you say that this place was manmade?"

> "Well, somebody had to have found it if there's a fucking ghost here."

> "If there's a ghost here, then someone died, and we shouldn't be here at all!"

Tommy does not answer, having moved on. Tubbo only pans the camera to Ranboo- your view bobs, presumably from a shrug.

> "Come look! I found the way down, look at how cool that is-"

The camera just catches Tommy sliding into a crack in the wall, and beginning to make his way downwards. Tubbo follows. He makes a surprised sound, and points you at the stairs.

The very clearly manmade stairs. They are unevenly hewn out, and although Tubbo doesn't slip, you can hear Tommy swear up ahead as he grabs at the walls for support.

> "Definitely manmade."

Ranboo's voice does not sound terribly excited with this revelation. Tommy has stopped firing back particularly acerbic retorts- Tubbo silently zooms in on his white-knuckled grip on the torch and doesn't say another word.

> "How deep can this go? We've been in here for what feels like hours-"

The camera jerks up sharply at Tommy's loud swear, and you come to an abrupt stop. Tommy steadies himself for balance on the floor, and the camera peeks around him, Ranboo whistling under his breath.

The three beams of light play over the expanse yawning below them; pathways arch, thin and winding, between the cavern walls. Tommy's light lingers over a lantern, rusted and long-burnt out, before it wanders further down to the floor. Below them, something clicks, once, twice, three times. A rock, presumably, hitting the floor as they enter the path.

Ranboo's, meanwhile, explores the pathway that sprawls in front of them and follows it down. The camera flicks between both, before Tubbo starts cautiously following the path in turn.

> "So somebody clearly was here. They spent lots of time here if this wasn't- natural."

Tubbo's light flicks to a wooden pathway, rotted through.

> "No way all of this was natural, bossman."

Distantly, Ranboo can be heard muttering under his breath. Whatever it is, it is worried; but it's too quiet to be distinct.

By now, Tubbo is halfway down the path. Closer to the ravine floor, more cracks can be seen in the walls.

As one of their lights wander across the walls, Ranboo clears his throat.

> "Guys. Guys, are those- what is that in the walls? Buttons?"

Tubbo hops the last distance off, and wanders closer to one. The camera, grainy as it is in the low light, zooms in on one of the little square mechanisms. It's wood, and oddly smooth, despite the rot that's wormed its way in.

> "Sure seems like it."

> "You should press it."

Quick as a flash, Tommy comes up behind him, and presses it. Other than a gentle click, despite Ranboo's scandalized hiss, nothing happens. It pops back into place.

> "Next question: why're there so many of these?"

> "Someone was bored, probably."

Tommy's peeled off again, turning in a circle. Tubbo zooms the camera in on a crack in the wall.

> "Is this an actual cave system?"

Tommy moves ahead of him, peeking into the crack. Crack is inaccurate- more like an opening, oddly tall enough and spacious enough for two of them to fit through comfortably.

> "...This isn't a fucking cave."

Tommy disappears into it, and Ranboo hovers outside. His attention is drawn somewhere deeper into the ravine- Tubbo zooms in on him.

> "Shadows got to you?"

> "I thought I saw something."

Even in the low light, Ranboo's troubled expression is easy to make out. Tubbo swings the camera around to follow where he stares. The torch cuts deep enough to come across the other wall- not a single thing moves.

Tubbo swings the camera back to Ranboo.

> "Here, you follow Tommy, and I'll go behind."

> "For you to spook me too?"

Nonetheless, Ranboo does follow Tommy in. Tubbo pans the camera a last time down in the direction he was staring in- nothing. A rusted lantern swings in a breeze.

Odd, that. A breeze in a cave.

The view lingers on it, and when it's pulled away, seems grainier than normal.

> "This is an actual room. This isn't a cave. Someone made this room."

Tubbo zooms in on more scratches in the side of the wall. Some of it looks like somebody was hacking away at the walls. Others...

> "What, someone hacked out this room, and went- hold up, hold up. What the fuck is this shit on the ground?"

Their footsteps don't echo here, muffled by what appears to be softer ground. As multiple torches are pointed down, Ranboo crouches down, and pokes at it, before taking a handful. Dirt trickles through his fingers.

> "Did someone just- just haul down some dirt to shove into a random cave room? What kind of- who made this place?"

None of the others have answers for him; Tubbo crouches as well, and digs his hands deeper. He does not meet stone anywhere underneath.

> "It goes deep, too. Wonder why."

Tommy ducks out of the room; his footsteps echo as his feet meet stone once more.

> "There's more further down the hall. There's- guys. Guys, come look."

This time, his confusion sounds tangible.

The camera is lifted back up to eye level, as they follow his voice, into another room.

> "That is very clearly a bed. That is a bed. That is a table. And a chair across the room. Did- there was somebody living down here."

> "Tommy, what kind of ravine did you take us into?"

Tubbo takes the camera closer to the bed. Most of the fabric is long gone, eaten away by moisture and insects. The wood creaks as he reaches out a foot to nudge it.

The table is in no better condition. Tommy attempts to lean on it, only to jump away as it creaks.

> "They're definitely not here. Right? Why would you even live down here? How?"

The camera bobs with Tubbo's shrug.

> "Maybe this was like... someone's secret base."

> "In the middle of a ravine, in the middle of the forest?!"

> "I didn't say it was normal!"

> "We should leave."

Outside, the lantern chains gently scrape together, again. Ranboo jumps, and Tommy shoves him with a shoulder.

> "Calm down. Whoever was here is clearly long gone- and if we see a ghost, we have some cool footage!"

> "Or we just- don't mess with them because we don't know what would've killed them down here."

> "But ghosts, Ranboo. Ghosts!"

By now, they're ducking out of the room. Ranboo continues to look back behind him; Tommy continues to walk further into the ravine.

Above them, the wooden pathways creak, and all three freeze.

The torchlight reveals nothing.

> "You've already gotten enough footage."

For all of Ranboo's efforts, Tommy keeps going, poking his head into cracks and walking up roughly hewn stairs.

> "Bossman, Ranboo might be right. It's time to go, we spent a good part of the day already."

Tommy's grumbles float back up to you, but he rejoins not long after.

It's at this point that they begin maneuvering back.

The footage is fuzzier than ever. Tubbo hums, disgruntled, and the view jostles; presumably as he lightly smacks it.

> "Something wrong?"

> "The footage's gone all weird; it's even shittier than before."

> "Give it here."

The camera switches hands; your view sweeps across the ravine ceiling, faintly catching four shadows. Tommy flips the camera over, presumably examining it by torchlight.

> "That's weird. Maybe the lighting's got to it. Or maybe it's the ghosts."

A faint thud sounds, Tommy letting out a huff.

> "Don't fucking- elbow me, you're like double my height-"

> "Don't try to freak us out!"

> "Okay, let's go, boys."

Tubbo's interruption breaks up the bubbling argument, as he takes the camera and starts back to the path. The view is slowly panned around them.

> "Nothing now, see? It's just you freaking out, Ranboo."

> "Or maybe whoever it is heard that we're leaving."

Ranboo is vocally displeased with the idea of Tubbo's suggestion. Tommy only snickers.

No other banter is picked up.

> "Look, there's that weirdass bridge again. It won't hold my weight, will it?"

> "No, definitely not, Tommy. It's been God knows how many years."

The camera sweeps back to face Tommy, who has a single foot gently testing the weight of the bridge. Ranboo hovers nervously to the side.

Behind Tommy, on the film, through the increasing static, a faint figure pulls itself up from where it was dangling its legs over the side. The camera freezes where it is.

> "Tommy. Tommy- are any of you seeing this? On the bridge?"

The figure pauses. So do the boys- they look at the bridge, and then back at Tubbo.

> "There's nothing there. See?"

The flashlight plays over the bridge, passing through the figure watching them. Faintly, a trenchcoat can be made out. A tattered sweater.

> "That- Ranboo. Come here. Look."

Gravel crackles to the side, and a sharp intake of breath can be heard; presumably as Ranboo approaches.

> "Tommy, get away from the bridge. Get over here."

Tommy moves towards the camera. The figure stops moving towards Tommy.

> "Oh, what the fuck. What the fuck."

The camera zooms, slightly. With three torches now focused on the figure, more details of the patches on the coat emerge. The man wearing it- he's folding his arms, staring them down.

From further down the bridge, a fourth voice echoes.

> "Hasn't anybody taught you boys not to play on rotting fucking bridges?"

#dream smp #tommyinnit #tubbo #ranboo #wilbur soot #found footage au #boys explore pogtopia babeyyyy #this became a whole fucking fic lmao #im also tired so thats how far im taking this concept <3 i may or may not do a follow up depending

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page-of-tales · 5 years

Text

HFY Story: Faith in Humanity

Listen, I’ve accidentally deleted this thing twice now. First by not saving manually, and then by overwriting the file accidentally. I’m hoping this counts as my third draft and so I’ve edited it less thoroughly than usual.

Word count: 2040

---

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Bureau of Alien Contact is a large Ergotoid government agency tasked with protecting the Ergotoid people from the influence of alien cultures. Each new alien species encountered resulted in a new department and new challenges for this agency. Sometimes the threats would be active, such as the subtle hypnosis imagery utilized in the entertainment distributed by the Boral aliens. Or the false claims by the Knorr in their advertisements for Ergotoid miracle “cures.” Other times the threats would be from within, and prove to be far more challenging. Inevitably after contact with a new alien race was made, a cult of personality would form. Admiring if not outright worshipping an alien race, idealizing them to godhood status. These cults would have to be crushed physically and ideologically as they posed a risk to national security.

Senior Agent Barann was well versed in dismantling these deviant worships. Having organized the misinformation campaign to break the illusion presented by the Pladis and their “utopian” society. As well as heading the military campaign to “kill” an Immortal, shattering the supernatural allure the mysterious figures held over the Ergotoid citizens. He had been commended for his effective solutions. Promoted to head his own department for a new alien species. Set for life it seemed. However now his position was now in contention.

Barann had not expected the subject of his department, humans, to generate much attention. They were at a glance an uninteresting species. The usual freakish alien appearance with no close match to any Ergotoid mythical imagery. No supernatural abilities or “magic” technology. Territory far enough away to limit physical influence to just their diplomats. Early assessments had graded humanity a low priority for the BAC, Bureau of Alien Contact. Whoever had made those assessments should have been fired. It had recently come to light that a human sourced series of viral videos was being passed around on the net. Like most such viral instances the videos were not distributed by any accountable source, but continually shared and transmitted by individuals.

Any alien product that reached that level of appeal was immediately appraised for threat analysis. Prior instances of the human cultural artifact known as memes had been brought up before and consequently been dismissed as non threats. These videos were different, despite having no obvious call to action, it was spurring sentiment in favor of the humans across Ergotoid space. Barann had viewed the first video in question several hundred times by now. Despite his seniority status he found that examining the materials under examination to be far more useful than second hand reporting.

The video was formatted as an amateur edit of various clips. With an opening text disclaimer asserting the imagery was not for juveniles.

The first clip has footage drawn from a camera outside the hull of a ship. Text in the corner notes the time and place. The ship is labelled as the Vivian. Barann had heard of this incident, rewriting it to feature Ergotoids had been one of his tasks before his promotion. The Vivian had been a colony vessel, some 10,000 individuals aboard belonging to the Kellarian Constituency. While on route to a potential colony site the Vivian had become crippled by a microstorm in a remote system. The punctured hull and spinning fragments could be seen as the camera panned slowly about. No engines, no shields, just waiting in space for the microstorm to rotate around the star and finish them off. The quietness of the video is unsettling. The camera’s slow movements almost seeming regretful of the loss about to happen.

Then a blink of light in the distance, distinct from the flashing metal and debris. The camera pans over and zooms in search. In the distance a large freighter can be seen moving in slowly. The human freighter, the Pale Air. The silence of the footage is supplemented by a tense music cue as the freighter moves in slowly. Stopping just beyond the edge of the microstorm.

Whatever discussion was taking place ended. The Pale Air’s engines flicker to life and the Pale Air closes in on the crippled vessel. The Pale Air’s shields flash as microstorm debris disintegrates on impact, sections begin to fizzle under the continued bombardment. As the freighter continues to approach it becomes apparent the humans are moving too fast to safely dock. A minute later something large impacts beside the camera. As the camera stops shaking the image resolves to show the Pale Air impacted against the Vivian’s hull. It’s engine roar to life. The vibrations from the engines transmitting to the Vivian and rattling the camera. Text scrolls past the screen as the camera slowly loses fidelity. The Pale Air had slowly pushed the wounded colony ship out of danger away from the microstorm, saving the lives of thousands of Kellarians. The screen fades to black as the music plays into the background.

The second clip starts with news footage. As footage of a bustling multi-species hub is shown the news ticker describes what is happening. A disease called the Jinkor plague, is ravaging some alien system. Somehow human blood is being used as treatment. The camera moves to an alien reporter who begins to speak, behind them are rows of humans sitting in chairs. Red liquid being drawn from their arms.

The video cuts to a vertical aspect ratio. A human pointing the camera at themselves. It opens it’s mouth to show teeth, in a predatory manner. It shouts in an alien tongue over a noisy background, “Doing my part, hashtag Give Blood.” and points the camera at it’s arm. Inserted into its arm is a needle drawing blood into a machine. The human raises the camera to show the people sitting behind them who wave a hand at the camera, “These people are also doing their part!” The camera spins around to show the rows of humans giving blood before the video cuts again.

This time it’s a newsreel montage. Footage of red liquid being injected into aliens. Long lines of the same aliens. Crowds cheering, more blood donations. The a blank page with statistics scrolling upwards. Number of donations, quantity of blood, lives saved. The montage ends with a picture of a juvenile alien hugging the leg of a human before fading to black.

The image pans from a cloudy yellow sky to a tree. On the upper branches a purple creature can be seen. Its cries faintly caught by the recorder. The viewer pans down to an alien in distress. Pointing and calling for someone to help its pet. From out of frame a human steps forward. Grasping a lower branch it examines the tree. Then the human pulls themselves up. With surprising agility the human climbs the tree until it is just below the purple creature. An arm stretches out, fingers stretching to reach the creature which shys away. The human jumps, shaking the tree. The human jumps again, and a branch snaps.

The recorder swings wildly, blurred frames of the human falling through the branches. There is a scream, and then the recorder rushes over to the human laying on the ground. The human uncurls an arm and the purple pet springs from its grasp and runs to its owner. The human then slowly rises to its feet. The recording stops as the human hobbles away.

An audio waveform bounces on the screen as an alien voice speaks.

“Distress, distress, this is Hilti Mining Station JV-33, we’ve had a mass casualty explosion event. We require immediate evacuation. Repeat, we have had an explosion. Fires uncontained. We require evacuation. Distress, distress…”

Colors splash onto the screen, a light blinds the camera, then the camera faces at cold metal plating. The angle moving awkwardly before settling into place. “Helmet cams online.” The camera turns, a human in full hard suit makes a hand gesture at the camera. More human voices crackle through a radio.

“The Hilti are cut off from their hangars and escape pods. Fire remains out of control and fuel is leaking into the vicinity. Check your fire suppression tanks.”

The camera moves as the human looks around the small room. A small group of humans wearing hard suits surround them. Various tools and devices at hand.

“30 seconds, get ready!”

The POV camera turns to withdraw a large tube from a locker. The human moves to stand with others alongside a wall. The human crouches down, one hand reaching out to grasp a handle.

“Opening door in 3, 2, 1. NOW!”

One of the wall slides away opening the room to space beyond. Across the distance is a facility floating in space. The lower half clearly damaged with gaping holes exposing the interior to the vacuum of space. Parts of the station glow red and white as internal temperatures rise from uncontrolled fires.

The human kneels down, the large tube protruding into the camera view. After a moment a rocket is fired. Behind the rocket trails a line. Unraveling as it travels, the rocket embeds itself onto the station. Moments later two more lines attach to the station The lines are attached to the ceiling of the room, bridging the gap between the ship and the station. Then the humans attach ascending devices to traverse across the line. The only movement being the humans on the line, and a tendril of orange liquid fuel twirling in space. As the humans are in transit one of them yells out.

“Holy shit! Lookout!”

In the silence of space the facility plating down below seemed to suddenly disintegrate. There was only time for brief incoherent yelling before the expanding metal shards reached them. The camera jerked violently, humans ahead curling up to make themselves smaller targets. Within seconds the shrapnel passes by.

“Roll call!”

“I’ve got a breach!”

The camera turns to look at one of the humans behind them. They have a hand to their leg.

“Return to the ship, everyone else keep moving!”

The video cuts to the humans hanging off the side of the facility. Sparks from torches blinding the camera as they cut through the wall. The panel is launched outwards as the internal atmosphere vents into space.

The video again cuts as the humans make their way through the darkened station corridors. Smoke obscuring their visor lights.. The humans regularly calling out for survivors. Open flame doused with a chemical foam. A hand with 4 fingers reaches out to them.

The video cuts again to the humans traversing the lines back to their ship. The room now filled with aliens laying against the wall. The human turns to cut the line from the roof as the wall slides back into place. The video cuts out and ends.

Barann shifted to a meditative stance. The appeal of the video was obvious. Dramatic depictions of heroic deeds was bound to inspire admiration. The usage of true stories only enhanced that effect. But its effect was becoming much more far reaching. Net searches related to humans had increased several thousand fold. Uncontrolled media outlets also began presenting stories of humans. Interest in humans was statistically on the rise, a positive image working to subvert the BAC’s work.

It seemed obvious that something insidious was going on. Something the BAC had missed. The analysts had combed the video for hidden signals or subversive techniques, finding neither. Attempts to find the procedure had been unsuccessful. Barann suspected it to be a group of individuals human who made the video as part of an amateurish hobby. Which would make it difficult to stem the further production of videos. Hoping to find a clue in the next viral video Barann uploaded the next file, Faith in Humanity #2.

#hfy #story #writing #sci fi

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themarionetteanovel · 3 years

Text

Chapter Eighty-Two - Proof of Complicity

Kevin took Allison’s hand as they hurried through the kitchen. For a split second, he realized with a spike of guilt, he thought Sophie was actually still alive, and that he still had a chance to be with her again. Then he reminded himself of the utter degenerate that girl said Sophie was sleeping with and he shuddered at the thought of touching her with a barge pole. What the hell, Sophie? Thank God they’d used condoms.

He and Allison halted at the entrance to the restaurant area. Fran and Claire were right behind them and Adam was peering out of the door that opened onto the street, cursing under his breath. “They’ve gone, I take it?” Kevin asked, thinking, idiot.

Moments later, he could hear footsteps on the sidewalk outside. Steve and Jordan came back in, breathless. “She is full of shit!” Steve said, marching up to Kevin and holding a phone out to him. “I can fucking prove it.”

Prove what, Kevin thought, tempted to say so aloud and laying on the sarcasm. Unlike Adam, he had no sympathy for druggies. Also unlike Adam, he didn’t rely on them to pad his income or use as errand boys.

Everyone formed a circle around Steve as he scrolled through the phone. Even Rebekah had emerged from the doorway. She stood near the wall, watching on. Kevin craned his head to glimpse the screen. Steve was opening an audio file, labelled “Protecton”. He’d probably meant protection, Kevin thought with a smirk. These morons can’t spell to save their lives.

A voice crackled through the tiny speaker. Steve hammered on a side button to turn up the volume. The hairs on Kevin’s arms stood on end as he heard Sophie’s mother saying, “More to the left. Up a little. A little more.”

“I was helping put in a new set of shelves in their mud room,” Steve said.

A job Adam had probably secured for him, Kevin thought. Muffled sounds and indistinct voices could be heard behind a banging noise, and then something about Adam being due in less than a quarter of an hour. The voices of Sophie’s mother and father faded and Kevin could hear Steve’s voice though the phone rasping, “They are talking about it!”

Silence fell for several seconds. Steve was eyeing Kevin, eyes alight with triumph. He held his finger to his thin lips. Mrs. Robertson’s voice grew clear again and Kevin could imagine Steve slipping up the hall to the doorway leading into their massive kitchen. The one with a view of the river from the picture window above their breakfast nook. He knew it well. Upon hearing the sobbing, Kevin almost felt sorry for the bitch. “We can’t even bury her.”

“She’s in Los Angeles. She is not dead. She ran away.”

“Enough!”

“That note was pure fantasy. Something that came out after one of her sessions.”

Kevin could swear he heard Mrs. Robertson’s teeth grinding. The pair often quarrelled, playing happy couple only when others who didn’t know better were around.

“Maybe she didn’t kill herself. Maybe you did it! You stashed her body someplace and arranged things to make it look like it was done by one of the boys fucking her!”

“Holy shit!” Kevin heard Steve’s whispering and snickering through the phone’s speaker over the muffled shouts. Shouts that quickly fell silent. “He just smacked her!”

“Get out!”

“Do not ever say that about me again. Ever.”

“Get. Out,” the woman was growling.

“You are the one who wanted to keep up appearances, pretend your little girl is Miss Perfect. Perfect daughters don’t slash up their goddamned legs and arms. Perfect daughters don’t steal mommy’s pills. Perfect daughters don’t leave suicide notes taunting her own goddamned parents, that when her body’s found everyone will find out about—about—”

“About what, exactly?”

Even though her voice was distorted, the mockery carried though perfectly clear, Kevin thought. He glanced at Adam, staring stern-faced at the now flat audio line on the phone, and then at Claire, who stood with her shoulders hunched and her eyes wide.

“Wait, it gets better,” Steve said to them.

The silence went on a for several more seconds. Kevin could see the recording was nearly at an end. Sophie’s father’s voice was shaky as he said, “Who allowed her twenty-three year old nephew to spend the night again? In her bedroom?”

“You allowed it too.”

Kevin held his breath in, his ears straining. He’d always known, but to hear them openly admitting so … He hadn’t thought that possible.

“Wasn’t me she mentioned in her note. Just. You. About how you pimped her out with a mind to getting your brother’s share of daddy’s fortune, how you called her ugly and stupid because you couldn’t stand that she was getting prettier than you. About how you …”

Kevin could hear the familiar tap, tap, tap of her heels across the kitchen floor, along the hallway, and then a door slamming shut. Sophie’s father was chuckling as somewhere an engine started. “Bitch.” After that, the sound cut off.

“I slipped outside for a smoke. The dad came out a few seconds later, guess he thought I might be listening in on them, so I dropped and squashed the cigarette as if I had just finished it,” Steve said with a note of triumph as if he’d just discovered a new flu vaccine.

“And you never thought to share this, why?” Adam plucked the phone from Steve’s fingers. Steve made no effort to try to get it back from him, just shrugged.

“Wanted to wait until her body was found. It’s my phone. Cops would take it for evidence and I need it. It’s not like they’d give me another one.”

“You could have sent me a copy of that audio file.”

“I guess.”

Kevin gathered by the way Adam was typing on the screen that he was sending the clip to himself now. He then caught sight of his own email address being manually entered and wondered how Adam knew it off the top of his head. Not that his was hard to remember for anyone who’d used it once. He slumped into the nearest chair he could find that still had all its legs on straight. Allison crouched next to him. “Are you okay?” she asked, her brow furrowed.

“I’m fine.” As an afterthought he added, “Thanks.” He leaned his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. He felt as if he were learning about Sophie’s death all over again, not that he’d ever known for certain she was dead. And by suicide. It shouldn’t shock him and yet it did. What a waste. She was so beautiful, so talented.

Allison pulled up a chair and sat close to him. “I’m here for you.”

He took her hand. Although he wished he could be alone for now. No more being in a state of semi-denial. Sophie was dead. And her parents knew, even when they’d called him, frantic, claiming they hadn’t seen her for days and had no idea where she’d gone. The nerve of them! Myriad thoughts flew through his head, too fast for him to grasp a single one clearly until Claire spoke in her characteristically hushed voice.

“Think they still have that note that was mentioned?”

“Not a chance.” Kevin knew Sophie’s mother. He pictured her sitting and leaning over the fire pit in their back yard, calling to her husband that she wanted to make sure all the flames were completely out before coming to bed. One flame would still be flickering, which she’d use to light the corner of the note. She’d wait until nearly the entire thing had been burned, and then stir the remainder into the smouldering ashes.

“Maybe she wrote it from a page in one of her notebooks,” Claire whispered.

“Hey, maybe the imprint is still on one of the inside pages!” Fran said, her voice rising in excitement.

Before Fran could ask about them, Kevin fished his keys out of his pocket. “Here, they’re in the trunk. Go nuts.” He tossed Fran the keys and was glad when she left. The fewer people around, the better. He eyed Claire and hunched his shoulders unapologetically.

#missing person #fiction #new adult fiction #mystery fiction #cosy mystery #novel #abandoned mansion #abandoned building #antique store #marionette #whodunnit #unsolved death #glbt #small town setting #family feud #dark secrets #books #writing

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reel-em-in · 3 years

Text

The Genre Film - Critical Reflection

The Film:

All You’re Going to Want to do is Get Back There

(Version that is closer to 3 minutes as per brief)

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vimeo

(Version with full score at the end)

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vimeo

The Process:

Pre-Production:

This script was written by Maddy, and the idea was in the works as far back as our initial Master Shot. This meant that this final Genre Film is very consistent in, terms of genre and aesthetic, with our other work for The Film Genre Project.

During the pre-production stage, Maddy revised the script a few times in order to make the story something that could be told in 3minutes. Something that I feel was successful, especially considering the ambitious nature of the story. Another key aspect of preproduction was sourcing and making the props, many of which were made or sourced by Maddy and I, though the more general props such as misc. trash and debris were also sourced by the rest of the crew. (For a more detailed look at the production design see this post )

The risk assessments and booking of kit was done by Abbie. Whilst Maddy and Mia created a shotlist, shooting schedule, and storyboard.

Maddy and Abbie both spent time contacting Charlie to find out whether she would be willing to play the role of our main character, and once this was agreed Maddy organised a time to meet up and go over the script and rehearse with her.

Production:

For the actual shoot, we spent a full day at the location. The weather was much foggier than we anticipated, and although at first we thought that this would cause us problems, it actually worked really well. Adding to the isolated feel of the location.

Overall the shoot went well. We stuck to the schedule and were on time (if not ahead of time) for the full shoot. One issue we did have was with some of the more ambitious shots, such as having a sunrise (which we were going to have to fake by shooting sunset for sunrise anyway). The weather on the day of the shoot made this impossible, thus a couple of shots had to be cut.

Another issue that we had was with the power-banks for the audio recorder (Mix-Pre 3). The recorder seemed to think that the power-banks were drained, though whenever i checked the power-banks themselves they were almost full. I feel as though this was likely an issue on my part though, rather than the technology. A bad workman blames his tools etc. I managed to get the majority of the audio recorded using the shotgun mic and Mix-Pre 3, this was beneficial as it allowed me to use Wingman to label files. Something we would be thankful for in post-production. Anything that I was unable to get with the recorder, I managed to get using a Zoom recorder that we had brought as a backup.

Post-Production

Once shooting was finished, Maddy synched the audio with the footage in AVID, before we moved everything onto a hard drive and delivered it to Dori for the edit. Unfortunately this didn’t fully go to plan as there were some issues upon opening the project on Dori’s computer. This was likely due to issues with going between Windows and Mac.

Once this issue was fixed though the picture edit seemed to go quickly, with Dori sending different versions of the film into the groupchat for feedback with each pass of editing. Whilst this was being done, Maddy and I sat down to write the score that would be used in the final shot of the film. Using a Mac with Logic Pro X borrowed from a friend (massive thanks to Sam for that!)

Once we reached picture lock, I took over. Booking 3 days in Screen Academy to sit down and work on the sound design. The majority of the sounds within the finished film were from recordings on location on the day of the shoot. The breathing sounds (without the gas mask) were recorded by Maddy, with the gas mask breathing being sourced online.

Working out what sounds to include within the sound design was very difficult, since the world that we were trying to create was one of desolation. The main sounds coming from Them (the main character) and the wind. I decided to add a geiger counter sound as a way to motivate the use of the gas mask as well as to build tension. Building the geiger counter with a single ‘beep’ sound that I placed at different intervals depending on how much radiation there would be within the different locations.

The Crit:

What Went Well:

The genre is clear

The location is well chosen and the set design is very effective. It really adds to the clarity of the genre.

The colour grade is really effective and further adds to the sci-fi aesthetic with the use of orange tones.

The performance & casting

Close-ups are well used and convey a lot despite the lack of dialogue

People liked the score!

Areas For Improvement:

The levels of the sound mix are too low

Although some people liked the geiger counter, due to the fact that it was an idea that came in post rather than during production, it doesn’t have any visuals that situate it within the film. It was confusing whether it was a geiger counter or some sort of locating device

Some of the shots have a slightly soft focus.

The title is maybe too long.

It could have been nice to fade between shots in the journey.

What I Have Learned:

Pay attention to levels!

Long titles can work sometimes. But use sparingly.

I love doing production design.

Although it is possible to situate sounds within a space without seeing the source, it doesn’t always work.

Even if you think you have enough batteries, always bring more! And even though backup kit (in case of emergency) may seem like overkill, it often isn’t and you will be thankful for that little Zoom recorder.

Plan For The Future:

I plan on booking some more time in Screen Academy after Christmas in order to work on the sound design again and improve it. This will be both beneficial to the film, as well as to my skills.

I will use this time to:

Look for a solution to the geiger counter issue. I would like to find a way to keep it in but link it to the visuals, perhaps through EQ, Reverb, and Panning to situate it with Them ?

If I keep the geiger counter in, I want to try adding a static crackle to it, as it currently sounds too pristine.

Fix the levels within the mix.

Foley some ‘gas mask breathing’ of my own and give more variation to the character’s breathing when wearing the gas mask.

Another pass on the footsteps.

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page-of-tales · 5 years

Text

Story: Faith in Humanity (Complete)

Word Count: 7700

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Faith In Humanity I

“The purpose of life is not to be happy. It is to be useful, to be honorable, to be compassionate, to have it make some difference that you have lived and lived well.”

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

The Bureau of Alien Contact is a large Ergotoid government agency tasked with protecting the Ergotoid people from the influence of alien cultures. Each new alien species encounter resulted in a new department and new challenges for this agency. Sometimes the threats would be active, such as the subtle hypnosis imagery utilized in the entertainment distributed by the Boral aliens. Or the false claims by the Knorr in their advertisements for Ergotoid miracle “cures.” Other times the threats would come from within, and these would prove far more challenging. Inevitably after contact with a new alien race was made, a cult of personality would form. Admiration if not outright worship of a new alien race, idealizing them to godhood status. These cults would have to be crushed physically and ideologically as they posed a risk to national security.

Senior Agent Barann was well versed in dismantling these deviant worship groups. Having organized the misinformation campaign to break the illusion presented by the Pladis and their “utopian” society. As well as heading the military campaign to “kill” an Immortal, shattering the supernatural allure the mysterious figures held over the Ergotoid citizens. He had been commended by his superiors for his effective solutions. Promoted to head his own department for a new alien species. Set for life it seemed. However his position was now in contention.

Barann had not expected the subject of his department, humans, to generate much attention. They were, at a glance, an uninteresting species. The usual freakish alien appearance with no close match to any Ergotoid mythical imagery. No supernatural abilities or “magic” technology. Territory far enough away to limit physical influence to just their diplomats. Early assessments had graded humanity a low priority for the BAC, (Bureau of Alien Contact). Senior Agent Barann was of the opinion that whoever had made those assessments were incompetent, and should be fired. It had recently come to light that a human sourced series of viral videos was being passed around on the net. Like most such viral instances the videos were not distributed by any accountable source, but continually shared and transmitted by individuals.

The video was formatted as an amateur edit of various clips. With an opening text disclaimer asserting the imagery was not for juveniles.

Clip 1- Vivian Rescue

Clip 2- Jinkor Plague

This time it’s a newsreel montage. Footage of red liquid being injected into aliens. Long lines of the same aliens. Crowds cheering, more blood donations. Then a blank page with statistics scrolling upwards. Number of donations, quantity of blood, lives saved. The montage ends with a picture of a juvenile alien hugging the leg of a human before fading to black.

Clip 3- Tree Rescue

Clip 4- JV-33

An audio waveform bounces on the screen as an alien voice speaks.

“The Hilti are cut off from their hangars and escape pods. Fire remains out of control and fuel is leaking into the vicinity. Check your fire suppression tanks.”

The camera moves as the human looks around the small room. A small group of humans wearing hard suits surround them. Various tools and devices at hand.

“30 seconds, get ready!”

The POV camera turns to withdraw a large tube from a locker. The human moves to stand with others alongside a wall. The human crouches down, one hand reaching out to grasp a handle.

“Opening door in 3, 2, 1. NOW!”

“Holy shit! Lookout!”

“Roll call!”

“I’ve got a breach!”

The camera turns to look at one of the humans behind them. They have a hand to their leg.

“Return to the ship, everyone else keep moving!”

---

Faith In Humanity II

“Whoever saves a single life is considered to have saved the whole world.”

-Talmud, Sanhedrin 37a

---

“I don’t care how its done, just get it done!”

Senior Agent Barann slammed the communicator on his desk. As head of the Human Department in the Bureau of Alien Contact, he was supposed to minimize the influence of aliens on his people. Ensuring order, stability, and obedience. A week ago he thought he had successfully deleted all traces of the series of human sourced viral videos which had sowed seeds of dissent. The material classified Faith in Humanity had been targeted for automatic censorship and deletion after sampling of each video was archived. Warnings had been distributed as well as fines. Charges against the most prolific distributors had been set in motion. It should have been another mark of success for Barann.

But a chance discovery by one of his subordinates had thrown that out the window. Multiple variations of Faith in Humanity had been discovered. The most prolific being a series titled, Faith in Space Humanity. Attempts to consolidate the total number of harmful material was still in progress. The best they could do was attempt to censor and delete each instance individually. But it was an uphill struggle against an opponent who really didn’t care.

Barann had confirmed after lengthy tracking and investigation that the humans who produced these videos were amateurs unaffiliated from any larger organizations. The Federation had simply shrugged its shoulders saying they had no control over what the Ergotoids watched on the net. Barann glanced over at a notification on his display. A new video had been found. This time formatted in an alien format code with alien title, obviously the Ergotoid were not the only purveyors of humans.

Clip 1- Mice and Men

Keller Station: Research Block D- Camera- 02

A nondescript room. Unadorned with any markings or features. A test chamber not in use. A panel on the far wall opens up. 12 individuals are forcefully pushed in. The door sealing closed behind them. The individuals of varying appearance and species cluster together. Most of them are in states of half dress. The garb when identifiable is that of scientists and researchers. One of them speaks out, tentacles wringing in anxiety.

“Pirates out here? I thought we would be safe.”

“Shh.”

A hand is pointed at the camera. The others glance at it, and continue in hushed voices. The whispered conversation just barely caught by the camera microphone. The tentacles continued to wring, now slightly wet with secretions.

“What would pirates want with a science station? We aren’t military.”

An alien who appears to have either slept fully dressed or was awake long before the others replies.

“Chemicals, technology, rare materials. Anything they can sell or use.”

One of the aliens begins to sob, a muffled chitter. Another rubs their arm reassuringly. The next query is directed at the largest alien in the group.

“They probably won’t do anything to us right?”

Anxious glances are split between the door and the camera.

“Probably not.”

Of all the aliens they are the only one to be restrained. Tensing against the restraints the alien speaks with careful levelness.

“Scientists aren’t worth much to pirates. Do as they say and we will make it out.”

The larger alien individual, who the group seemed to look to as a leader, looked over to one of their companions.

“Allan what are you looking at.”

Dr. Allan, the single human in the group, looked up. Raising his arm to show off a device wrapped around his wrist.

“Checking the time.”

Everyone turned to look at Allan. A brief silence blanketing the room. The moment broken by a question.

“Why?”

“It’s feeding time.”

Something small falls from the ceiling onto Allan’s shoulder. The aliens react in surprise, a variety of behavioral reactions on display. Allan scratches the little furred creature, who chirps in response. The large alien steps forward, leaning in to get a closer look. The creature squeaks in alarm, and is calmed by Allan.

“Is that, is that one of your specimens?”

Allan nods, and points to the door. The creature chirps and leaps off of Allan’s shoulder, bounding between the alien’s legs. It goes up to the panel and hangs off the wall. It appears to sniff at the panel.

“Specimen T-8. Little guys are smart enough to escape containment, not smart enough to find their own food.”

There is a fizzling sound and the door opens. Several more tiny fur balls enter the chamber. Crawling about. Sniffing and exploring the new area. Allan peers out the doorway, gesturing for the others to go ahead.

“From here we can make it to a shuttle bay and get out.”

The aliens quickly file out. Several of the specimens climb onto Allan, who distributes treats from his pocket. As the last alien exits Allan moves to leave but turns back. He points to the camera and the furred creatures leap off. A moment later the camera goes to static.

Clip 2- Lost Child

The next clip features footage from what appears to be a drone. Flying overhead of what appears to be a disaster zone. Water flows in the streets and mud coats the walls. A burned out building partially collapsed. Roof caved in, rubble spilling into the street. Aliens pick through the wreckage. Clearing a path through the street. Digging out wounded and dead.

The drone takes a position to survey a narrow street. Like the others it shows sign of damage. And in addition in the middle sits a large obstruction. A lost child, a Komus child. Though still an adolescent it weighs several hundred kg. Its sizable mass blocking the street. Its bellowing wails reverberating against the buildings. Covered in mud, and sitting in the water it makes for a moving sight. A group of aliens circle the alien at a distance. Hesitant to approach.

From the crowd a long figure steps forward. Garbed in a full suit it’s identity is obscured. Standing beside the Komus child the unknown figure is dwarfed by the alien. When it extends a hand it can only reach the child’s knee. Whatever it says calms the child. Who stops crying to peer at the figure. It lifts its mask to show its face. The child seems comforted, and taking the hand of the figure, follows them out of the camera view.

Clip 3- Serene Mayday

Travel Control Room: Insurance Mandated Recording

Large screens displaying radar readouts, time tables, and a bustling hub of alien activity. This is what the inside of a control room looks like for a major interstellar hub. Dozens of controllers coordinate the paths of hundreds of starships. Flight paths are simulated in a big tank from which the supervisors can ensure safe travel of all visitors. One of the controllers raises a hand. A supervisor steps from the tank to the row of controllers.

“Problem?”

“Ship. Approach. Problem.”

Some of the other controllers turn to glance at the pair. Checking the board shows a line labelled Blue Serene on approach, its course vector now marked in a harsh purple. Other readouts that should be automatically listed are absent.

“Specify.”

“Crew. Dead. Ship. Hurt. Pirates.”

Other routes are diverted to give the Blue Serene a wide berth. The fervor of activity increases. The Blue Serene has now been scanned fully. A high mass, a large ship. Hundreds if not thousands of passengers. Fluctuating systems across the board. Parts of the ship entirely absent.

“Control. Who?”

“Humans. Control.”

The Blue Serene continues to move, its path a large circle. Its speed unchanged. Other ships are diverted to clear the path for the ship with no control. A rogue ship like that posed a threat. If not handled the controllers would be well within their right to order it destroyed. But they hesitated.

“Humans. Specify.”

“Humans. Passengers. Control. Bad. Help. Give?”

The two aliens observe the Blue Serene as it flies past the window. Then turn back to their controls.

“Give. Help.”

Over the course of 30 minutes the aliens are eventually able to instruct the humans how to slow the ship. The last frame of the footage is of the controllers performing a cheer at the window from which the Blue Serene can be seen adrift.

Clip 4- STARS II

An alien newscaster relates a story. A small vessel had lost control of its engines and had gone hurtling into space. It had been presumed lost with all hands aboard. A memorial service would be planned, with numerous dignitaries attending. The loss of the craft represented a great blow. Their first effort at manned FTL travel, a failure.

The vessel was small and had not been given a name until it completed its first voyage as was tradition, though the crew of six had planned on calling it the Little Leaper. Condemned to their ship, they could only watch themselves flash past star systems that had been pin pricks of light in their night sky. It had been a month since the accident, and they had traveled far beyond their known space. It hadn’t been a terrible journey, the things they had seen were truly wondrous. It was only a great shame they could not tell others. The supplies they had stored were beginning to run out, and the captain wondered aloud how she would tell the crew to prepare for last rites. Her thoughts wandering on the recording as she made another log. Captain’s Log # 44-ish.

She again noted that the attempt to fix the engine had failed. It was only through that faint hope that any of them were still alive. But now their time seemed to run out. Without supplies they would die. As the Captain scrolled through a manual looking for the self destruct mechanism. There was a loud interruption. An alien voice booming untranslated through the ship.

“Hailing, unknown ship. Do you require assistance?”

The Captain paused, unsure if the voice was a hallucination. Her first mate intrudes, decorum dropped at the elation of contact. The voice comes in again.

“Unknown ship, this is a STAR vessel ID: EM-225. We are preparing to perform docking maneuver. Brace for… turbulence.”

The video log continues to roll even as the captain moves away. After a moment the ship shudders as something large makes contact. Then the red lights go dark.

---

Barann leaned back. Watching these videos had become something of a habit now. Even he was beginning to feel a toll. There was an emotional pull to these videos. An infectious influence which he could only hope would be broken. The higher ups were leaning in on him, pressuring him to handle the problem. To reverse the trends, and break the hold the humans were gaining. He had requested for more people, and more resources.

But it all felt like a losing battle. The revelation that these videos were present in other alien encodings provided another swathe of data to be searched. More videos to be censored, and more work to subdue the illicit influence.

The only practical solution that had been decided was to sever off connection to all alien nets, but it was no small task to cut off every node of a network with an interstellar spanning infrastructure. The Bureau of Networks should have had the power to do that. However over time they had gotten sloppy. Left too many unregistered connections form. However if the connections couldn’t be cut, then the whispers of the people might rise into something louder. That was something that could not be allowed.

Faith In Humanity III

Censorship reflects society's lack of confidence in itself

-Potter Stewart

---

Senior Agent Barann watched as his communicator buzzed on his desk. The device rattling on the metal top. The calls were becoming endless. High level officials continually asking for updates or input on policy. Colleagues badgering him for advice or help. All mere noise in the background to current events. In the month since interstellar communications with all aliens had been cut. things had spiralled out of control. It wasn’t the economical impact, that consequence had been accounted for, and in fact hadn’t been as severe as analysts feared. No, it wasn’t the corporations who were causing trouble. It was the common people. Their interest in humans had spiked just before the communications blackout. There had even been small gatherings of citizens to protest the deportation of all humans residing in Ergotoid space. Just an inkling of what was to come.

The Bureau of Surveillance had reported a rise in subversive activitiess since the blackout. Increased citations for illegal possession of alien contraband. Indicative of a thriving black market for alien products. An unprecedented emergence in unregulated media stations had been evading the Bureau of Communications. Spouting radical agendas inspired by whatever alien influence had corrupted their minds. The Bureau of Propaganda was hard pressed in a campaign promoting the superiority of the Ergotoids. Political action was on the rise, protests, dissidence, and all other treasonous activity was beginning to disrupt the peace.

Punishments had been sharply intensified as well. Any citizen found quoting song lyrics, or making any reference of alien culture would be punished severely. If necessary the police would beat the words out of the populace. Illegal distribution would be punishable by death, without trial. Crackdowns on suspected criminals were occuring with increasing frequency. Massive amounts of contraband and net data were seized in these raids. Yet even then physical backups were dumping their contents onto the net. Flooding the networks with more of the alien propaganda. It was a brazen act of rebellion, directly emulating the humans.

The Bureau of Alien Contact had been compiling a report to present to the highest levels of government regarding this precarious situation. Hopefully to convince them to initiate extreme measures to contain the threat. To highlight this threat his department was compiling a video, ironically a version of the Faith in Humanity format. The purpose of which was to exemplify the subversive elements contained within the messaging of such videos, messaging which had struck an affinity with the Ergotoids. A message which sparked the ongoing cultural wave of rebellion.

Clip 1- Impromptu Celebration

A pink finger scrubs the lens before allowing the camera to adjust to the lighting of the scene. As the light flares and recovers an outdoor scene comes into sight. The ground covered in a white material that falls from the clouded sky. A number of humans dressed in bulky clothes stride about. Condensation from their breath indicative of a cold temperature. A group of humans are meandering in a field. Rolling the white material into waist high spheres. These spheres are piled together forming a mound a half length taller than the humans. The group set to shearing away layers of the mound with their hands. When the group steps back, an imperfect cube of white material is left behind.

The group gather round in a circle around the work. They sway in unison, arms over each other’s shoulder. The camera approaches and the wavering pattern of a song can be heard.

♩ “We wish you a Merry Christmas-” ♫

As the song continues other humans approach from across the field. Joining the circle they also join in the song. As the song ends the group launches into another.

♪ “Dreydle, Dreydle, Dreydle.” ♪

More humans join, forming two encircling loops. More snow is piled to form a low wall around the cube. Another pile of snow is formed and from this one a pyramid is carved out. And as more humans join the group, another sculpture is created. The footage begins to cut to different perspectives. Jumping across the field to capture all that is happening. A lighthearted mood kicks up with an impromptu snowball fight briefly disrupting the singing. Piles of snow are made into impromptu benches. At some point a food stand stops by and a line of people form for food. A second soon joins it. As the light begins to fade, the crowd only grows larger. Glow orbs hover above to light the festivities. Someone stuffs lights into the sculptures, the muted lighting reflecting off happy faces. All throughout the singing continues. Different songs in different tongues of an ever changing cast of singers.

As rapidly as it grew the spontaneous party vanished. The field going dark and quiet as the last revelers left. The flash event gone as rapidly as it had appeared.

Clip 2- Lassarn Massacre

The footage vibrates from atop a vehicle. A gun mounted camera, the long barrel of the weapon protruding into the view. As the gun rotates in its top turret a convoy of military vehicles are seen following closely behind. A stamp in the upper corner marks the military unit as Jik’an military, Imperial Executors some cycles ago. Abruptly the vehicle comes to a stop. The gun rotates to face forward. A line of humans stand in the road, a human wall.

A speaker on the vehicle crackles to life.

“Humans, disperse immediately.”

The humans remain.

“You are obstructing an active military operation. By Codex Line 23, obstruction of military operations is punishable by imprisonment or death. Disperse immediately.”

One human steps up. A second speaker booming at the convoy.

“Turn back. There is no need for violence. Leave the Lassarn alone. Go home.”

The vehicle speaker booms louder.

“Sheltering of rebels is an illegal act. This assembly is an illegal act. Disperse or be shot.”

A few individuals jump out of line, but the line remains.

“This is our right, and our homes. You do not belong here.”

The people begin to yell in chorus. Demanding the military leave. The gun levels out. Then the camera cuts to black as the gun opens fire.

Clip 3- Mercy Fleet

A camera sweeps across a devastated landscape. Alien natives stumble through the bombed landscape. Rubble blocks the street. Smoke rises high on the horizon. Electricity is knocked out as evidenced by the darkened buildings. The surroundings lit by only the dim light of the sun filtering through a heavy cloud layer. Shocked and stunned individuals sit in silent contemplation. Whatever had attacked these people had left as quickly as it had come, leaving behind a devastated city. The camera sweeps up as a low rumble can be heard. Aliens scatter as a shape begins to descend through the clouds.

The footage cuts to the interior of a vehicle. Racing out of the city to a nearby field. The camera struggles to keep the descending shape of a spaceship in view as the vehicle bounces on the ruined road. The blackened and scorched fields giving a clear view of the descending ship. Massive in size, and gleaming with the emblem of the Federation.

The alien is not alone, a few others have driven out to the field and watch the ship as it finally touches down. Gusts of wind beat at their faces, covering them in ash. But they remain fixated on the ship. A ramp begins to descend. As it touched ground people begin to disembark. Like a showcase of the diversity of the Federation, a full spectrum of member species descend from the ship. Stygil hopping awkwardly down the sloped ramp. Lalochans seeming to float down the ramp. A troop of Anthdae moving in sync. Komus, large enough that they disembark individually. A dozen more unidentifiable species. And all throughout Humans intermingled in the crowd.

The mercy ship begins to unload supplies as well. Drones roll off the ramp loaded with crates. Vehicles are lowered from bays to roll away and make contact with the impacted area. From a hangar lifts several aircraft fly out. Shooting high and disappearing above the clouds. Back on the ground the group split into teams and begin setting up a base facility.

A human bounds over to them. Brushing at the ash that lingers in the air. He stops in front of the aliens, and reaches a hand out.

“Hello, we are here to help.”

An alien hand extends in response before the footage cuts out.

Clip 4- Freeing Slaves

Unknown Station: Black Box Footage- Hangar B

Grainy footage. Lines of static crawl up the frame. A large room is depicted in low light. A hangar on a space station judging by the fielded wall on the far side exposed to space. Within the hangar there are lines of species in chains. Many more in enclosures. Green skinned quadrupeds walk about controlling the other species with neural prods. Ethyl slavers. The camera has a poor audio receiver and the screams of the slaves are distorted. An untranslated alien voice rasps in the hangar. The slavers begin to prod the chained slaves more vigorously. Corralling them into the enclosures. Others prepare to receive another shipment.

Through the field a large ship enters the hangar. It turns and lands in front of the slavers. The bay doors open and from the ship’s hold storm out a band of humans. The slavers closest to the ship are dropped quickly by weapons fire. The others barely have time to react before the humans are also upon them. As more humans pop out of hatches atop the ship it is apparent they are not a professional bunch. Their dress bearing colonial markings. Their weapons a varied arsenal of scavenged gear. But they throw themselves relentlessly at the slavers who fall back from the hangar.

The humans rally, gathering together. “For Freedom.” They proclaim as one and then they push forward. Chains are broken, and the lines of slaves freed. Any slaver left behind is executed. Reaching the end of the hangar the humans continue to blast their way into the station. Finally the camera is taken out by an explosion.

---

Barann looked away from the monitor of the rough draft presentation and considered the form in his hands. His resignation. The Ergoitoid planned to present the resignation after the presentation was completed. He didn’t plan to stick around to see where his failures would lead. Unlike the others in the government he had an inside view of what was going on. Having bore witnesses to hundreds of videos, he knew exactly what had changed in the people. He himself was victim to it. Victim to what had been an intrusive influence, which had now become an unstoppable force of change.

Faith In Humanity IV

Many small people, who in many small places do many small things, can alter the face of the world.

-African Adage

---

Some time after the Ergotoid Rebirth, things had just about settled down and people were just beginning to get on with their lives. Whispers of a video make their way through the net. The video is spread from person to person, drawing a minor cult of advocates. As a sign of the times the video was presented on the major networks with people commenting on how its affinity with the people reflected an aspect of themselves.

Clip 1- Refuge

An Ergotoid fumbles the camera. The handheld footage is shaky, pointed at a wall of a spaceship. The Ergotoid documents a log. Noting the distance they have traveled, the dangers they have avoided. Moving to describe the people who had joined the ship, the impoverished, the oppressed, the different. Dwindling down by mentioning the diminishing of food, medicine, and other supplies. Ending with a hope that they soon arrive at their destination.

The footage cuts to an unknown time later. The camera is pointed at an airlock. With a pneumatic hiss the hatch opens to three uniformed humans standing just outside in a docking tube..

“Welcome to Federation outpost #434.”

One announces. The response is silence. After a moment the humans look at each other. They gesture for the Ergotoids to follow them. Which they do. The whispers begin as they enter the outpost.

“These are humans? They seem, smaller.”

“Do you think they can protect us?”

The outpost is small. It’s corridors cramped. The bulky Ergotoids have to sometimes squeeze to get through doors. One of the Ergotoids stumble, sliding across the wall as they fall. The humans turn around, alarmed. The other Ergotoids shirk back. To have brought along an illness into an alien vessel, the consequences could be severe. A human quickly kneels down by the fallen Ergotoid.

“Are you ill?”

Hesitantly the Ergotoid replies. “Y-yes.”

The human looks at the others.

“Anyone else sick?”

Again the response is silence. The human makes a face but doesn’t press the issue. Instead they tap their wrist.

“Station, we have a patient for you. Unknown illness.”

An electronic voice hums in the corridor,“Confirmed.” Panels on the wall light blue and lead around a corner. The human rises pulling the Ergotoid to their feet.

“Anyone who is ill should follow us. We will provide whatever treatment we can.”

The two follow the light and tentatively a few others follow them. The remaining humans indicate the Ergotoids should follow them and the group continue on their way. Their walk ends in a larger room. Tables and chairs setup. A monitor on the wall displays humans engaged in distributing a ball. Quite aggressively it seems. One of the humans shuts the monitor off and takes a seat at the table. The Ergotoids follow suit, the camera placed flat on the table.

“So, what are you folks doing out here?”

The spokesperson for the Ergotoids finally finds their voice.

“W-We have run away from the government. We are common people, seeking… help.”

“So you seek asylum?”

“Yes.”

The two humans look at each other. A wordless communication passing between them. The other turns back to the Ergotoids.

“How many of you are there?”

The Ergotoid hesitates, but pushes onward.

“2,347.”

A sharp whistle sounds out. The Ergotoids look around only to realize the human had made the sound. One of the Ergotoids whispers to another, “I didn’t know they could do that.”

“That’s a bunch of people on a small ship.”

A door opens and a Stygil steps through. Skipping through the doorway to work their tail through before it can close. They hop across the room a pile of data pads in their hands. The presence of the Stygil and the similarity between the two alien’s uniform isn’t lost on the Ergotoids. Who point out the alien excitedly to each other. The humans seem to notice the Ergotoid fixation, but don’t comment on it.

“Hey Chic, I think you might want to hold off on that. They have a couple thousand people on board over there. See if you can’t rouse the rest of the crew instead.”

The Stygil stamps a foot. “Understood, sir.” Then it dumps the data pads into a chair before jumping back out of the room. The human turns back to the Ergotoid.

“I’m sorry, we can’t take everyone onboard here.”

The Ergotoids mood is shattered. A visceral reaction as hope is pulled away.

“You won’t help us?”

The human shakes their head.

“No, no, that isn’t what I mean. It’s just this station is too small. We’re not meant to process immigrants or refugees. We can direct you to another larger station where they will have the facilities to process you.”

It takes a moment for the relief to calm the panic. In a rush the Ergotoid hurries on.

“We need aid now, our ship was damaged, our supplies are low. We have more sick onboard.”

“Woah, okay. Hold on.” The human holds up both of their hands. The Ergotoid falls silent and humbles themselves. The human taps their wrist again. “Redbranch, get on long comms. We have a refugee ship here in need of some immediate aid. Request a medical frigate.”

While the human is talking the other picks up the conversation.

“We can provide some supplies, and some aid. But our resources are limited. Why don’t you tell me how you folks ended up here?”

The footage awkwardly ends with a montage of photos. Of puzzled humans alongside elated Ergotoids. The Ergotoid reactions were bewildering to the humans. This was a simple outpost after all, and they weren’t palace guards for tourists to snap photos of. They did not know how their presence affirmed what the Ergotoids had hoped to find. The last image is an Ergotoid embracing a human, fully lifting them off the ground in a full body hug. The picture lingers before fading to black.

Clip 2- Revolt

Clamorous noise and equally chaotic sights blaze across the screen. A crowd of Ergotoids gathered in a city square. The square is recognizable as being in the capital city. The tall surrounding buildings are draped with banners. In the center of the square is a circular barricade. Vehicles pushed together, and various furnishings stacked high. On the pile youthful Ergotoids wave flags and chant slogans. A protest. All types of Ergotoids are present, from all ranks, and all calls of life. All here for change. A demonstration of this scale and this publicly would have been unheard of previously.

At the square entrance, a flurry of colorful umbrellas shield the protestors from the authorities. The helmeted and masked figures miniscule in the face of the crowd. A crowd that knows they are in control. The taunts and jeers float in the air. From appearances it looks as though the Ergotoids plan to camp in the square. With canvas stretched to make makeshift camps. It’s not clear what group is in control. The signs on display are a wash of colorful symbols that would require cultural context to decipher.

The footage cuts to some days later the sky darkened. The protestors are armed, some with riot gear, other with army weapons. Most still walk with just their signs and banners on hand. The mood in the encampment remains a happy one. They appear to have unified under a single symbol. A painted blue fist. Its emblem is painted on every surface. Atop a box an orator speaks to the people. Of why they are here, of what they aim to accomplish. The crowd listens intently, soaking in the words. Behind them on the tall buildings are projections, some of the symbol they have chosen. Others feature list of demands. And another of individuals memorialized.

The footage cuts again. Sounds of battle blowout the sound. The camera peeks over a box. Abruptly the camera ducks down as a machine gun chatters death. The barricade has been blown apart, the remnants set aflame. Thick oily black smoke accumulates in the square. In the distance troops in full armored suits walk in line. Through the smoke their uniform and emblems are visible as death and destruction. Kill squads only heard of in rumor. Whatever weapons the protestors have are ineffective. Individuals claw at the buildings, trying to climb out of the death trap. The buildings wall are chipped apart by weapons fire. Behind the death squad come armored vehicles through the square, rolling over still forms on the ground. The camera falls to the ground and the screen shatters.

Clip 3- Renewal

Newsreel footage begins to play. Panning over a crowd gathered under a bridge. Ergotoids and surprisingly humans are mingling together. In front of them is a colorful mural. The depiction is of an Ergotoid soldier shielding citizens from an evil enemy. The soldier is depicted with a light beam illuminating their form. The enemy are masked in shadow, but clearly based off alien forms. At the front of the crowd a human hands an Ergotoid a bucket, who dips a brush into it and begins to paint over the mural. A news ticker scrolls across the bottom of the frame.

“New government orders remodelling.”

The footage cuts to another news clip. This time of a park. A statue stands proudly over a fountain in the center. The figure emulating the form of a prominent anti-xeno politician. One who was only recently deposed. The Ergotoid crowd cheers as a work crew remove the statue. The camera turns to face a reporter who reports on the removal of the statue. Commenting on how the sweeping reforms have correlated with the arrival of Federation envoys. A groundbreaking event for the historically isolationist people.

What follows is footage from a news drone. Hovering high over a tall stone building. It looms in the middle of the city. Decorated with symbols of the old government. Even in the clear sunny day it gives off an oppressive atmosphere. Shadowing the smaller buildings. The news ticker at the bottom scrolls by. “Old jail to be demolished.” After a minute there are clouds of dust, and then then sound of an explosion. As the drone watches impassively the building crumbles in on itself. Walls that had stood for centuries collapsing into rubble. A bulletin flashes across the screen. “New government applies for Federation membership.”

Clip 4- Repeat

The camera pans down a large street. Hundreds of Ergotoids are in the street. The mood is celebratory. With floats and a band marching down the street. Displays lit up along the street have the following text scrolling past. “1st Annual Inaugural Day.” Performers twirl in the street. Balloons bob above the crowd. On the larger monitors a live feed is fed of a distant stage, where the government is making speeches, joined by representatives of the Federation.

For the Ergotoids the display is a sharp difference from what they are used to. Before the Rebirth the only celebrations had been that of the nation. Mandatory attendance of military parades. Silently watching the long rows of troops, tanks, and weapons. A way for the government to remind the people who was in control, and who held the power. All that was gone. Thrust in the background in this celebration of the people. The military was still here, marching in the parade, but they walked without weapons. Waving and smiling at the crowd. And for once the people cheered them on full heartedly.

The camera continues to zoom in on the crowd. Capturing a young family cheering. The dancers atop a moving stage. The entire things speaks of energy and optimism. An unreleased passion for life now unfettered and free.

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