Word: automaton

 

automaton

\ aw-TOM-uh-ton, -tn \  , noun;

1. a mechanical figure or contrivance constructed to act as if by its own motive power; robot.

2. a person or animal that acts in a monotonous, routine manner, without active intelligence.

3. something capable of acting automatically or without an external motive force.

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Jeff didn’t like the new guy.  He was too good.  Ever since he had arrived a month ago, he had never made even a single mistake.  Ever.  Nobody was that good at his job.  Plus, there was his unsettling personality that put Jeff on edge.  The guy always had a calm, deadpan expression.  He never talked outside of what was needed for the job either.  He just did what he was told with almost mechanical permission and efficiency.  Add to the fact that all the girls swooned over him because he looked like he came out of a magazine, and it was almost too much for Jeff to take.  He knew there was something about the new guy.  Perhaps even something sinister.  Of course, he couldn’t actually prove anything, and nobody else found anything at all odd with the guy.

                There was only one option left to Jeff: follow the new guy and find out exactly what he was up to.  Of course,  Jeff had never attempted such dubious methods before, but he felt it was important to do so in this case.  He certainly wasn’t going to get anything out of the guy just by asking.  Jeff started by simply finding out the guy’s habits after work.  When he left, which was he went after he exited the building, whether he had a car or not, and so on.  It took a few weeks, but he finally determined that the guy walked to and from work, and so tailing him shouldn’t prove too difficult.  Finally, after a long day of work, Jeff put his plan—such as it was—into action.

                The new guy left work every day at exactly the same time, so Jeff ducked out just a few minutes earlier.  He left and hid nearby, waiting for the guy to leave.  Sure enough, he came marching out the building at the exact same time he always did.  Jeff slowly walked behind him, making sure to stay several yards behind his mark, a trick learned from watching spy movies.  At first, it seemed like he was doing a good job.  He always kept at least two people between himself and the new guy to avoid raising suspicion.  That is, until the crowd started to thin out. 

                The guy was walking into an older, less populated part of the city, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to tail him without being seen.  As the streets became less and less crowded, Jeff had to be a bit sneakier.  He ducked behind buildings, hid his face as much as possible, and entered and exited buildings at random.  Eventually though, the new guy stopped dead.  Jeff froze where he stood as his mark turned and looked right at him.  They looked at each other, unmoving, for several seconds.  Then Jeff turned and ran.  He didn’t know why, he just did.  He looked behind him briefly to see if he was being followed, but the new guy was not there.  He didn’t have time to process that fact when he ran into what felt like a metal wall.  All the air left his lungs and he fell flat on the ground, his body aching from the sudden impact.  He looked up and saw the new guy standing there, looking down at him. 

                “Is there a reason you are following me?”  He asked in his dull, monotone voice.

                “Following you?  No, I’m not following you.”  Jeff said, doing his best to come up with a reasonable excuse on the fly, “I just happen to be going this way is all.”

                “Unlikely.  Your movement patterns indicate that you are, indeed, following me.  What is the reason for this?”  Talking to the guy was always unsettling for Jeff.  It was like talking to a machine.  He scrambled to think of something to say, but there was nothing.  All he had left was to tell the truth, and hope nothing came of it.

                “Ok, you want the truth?  I think you’re up to something.”

                “Such as?”

                “Uh, well, I don’t actually know.  But I’m sure it’s something bad.”

                “You’re assumption is illogical, as I have given no indication of any such intent, nor is there any reason to suspect me of any kind of wrongdoing.”

                “Illogical?  What are you, a Vulcan?” 

                “No.”

                “Right.  Anyway, how’d you get in front of me so fast?”

                “I have no need to answer such questions.”

                “No, of course you don’t.  Maybe you’re so kind of killer robot or something.”  He said.  It sounded ridiculous when he said it out loud.  But the guy didn’t respond right away.  He stood there, unmoving and unblinking.

                “I am not a killer robot, no.”  His voice was the same as always and gave no indication of emotion at all.  Still, there was something about his words that threw up a red flag in Jeff’s mind.

                “Not a killer robot, huh?  Does that mean you’re a different kind of robot?”  Again, a long pause filled the air.

                “Yes and no.”

                “Oh my god, you are a robot.  Are you from space?  The future?  Or something?  You’re not going to kill me for knowing this are you?”  Jeff asked, suddenly very afraid.

                “No.  I am not from space, another time, nor do I have any harmful intent.”

                “Then what are you exactly?”

                “I am the result of an ongoing experiment to improve upon the human race.”

                “What?”  Jeff said.  A sudden cold chill ran down his back.

                “I was once a normal human.  However, I was selected for an experiment to improve on nature by adding mechanical parts.  Eventually, all organic tissue was replaced by mechanical substitutes.”

                “Oh god, that’s crazy.  Why would you do something like that?”  Jeff asked.  He started to back away.  His eyes darted back and forth to find some kind of escape route. 

                “As a human, I was flawed.  Now, I am not.”  Jeff saw an opportunity to at least slow the guy down.

                “Really?  Well I say you still are flawed.”

                “Explain.”

                “If you were really perfect, I wouldn’t have noticed anything wrong with you.  That robo brain can’t mimic anything human, so you stand out like a sore thumb.  The only reason nobody else seems to notice is because they don’t care enough to.  If they did, you’d be found out in a heartbeat.”  He said, trying to sound more confident than he was.  The guy stood there, processing Jeff’s words.

                “Your argument has merit.  Further experimentation is now warranted to perfect the human/machine conversion process.  Test subjects will be needed.”

                “Yeah, good luck with that.” Jeff said, as he started to walk away.

                “You have been selected to participate.  Congratulations.”  The guy said without enthusiasm.

 Jeff froze for a second when he heard the words.  He didn’t stand still very long though, and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.  He felt something heavy impact the back of his head, and then darkness clouded his vision.

A week past before Jeff showed up to work again.  His coworkers expressed some concern over his health, but he assured them that it was just a cold, and that he was fine.  He went quickly and quietly over to his desk, sat down, and started doing his work with seemingly mechanical speed and efficiency.  

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 Here's a robot, because everyone loves robots, right?  Well, maybe not when a person becomes a robot, but oh well.

Word: wuther

wuther

\ WUHTH-er \  , verb;

1. (of wind) to blow fiercely.

 

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     The wind blew furiously across the wide open field, giving an unseasonable chill to the late Spring air.

     "Do we have to do this today?  I'm cold."  The young boy said, loud enough to be heard above the roar of the wind.

     "Yeah, we do.  It's a perfect day for what we're doing."  Said the boy's older brother.

     "But I'm cold."  The younger boy complained.

     "Oh suck it up.  You're the one who wanted to do this.  'Sides, it's not that cold out."

     "Yes it is."  The younger boy said quietly.

     The comment went unheard by the teen, who had gone to his old, beat up car and was pulling a large bundle out from the trunk.  He struggled against the wind as he rejoined his little brother.  He set it down and unfolded the large square sheet of cloth which contained a bunch of plastic rods and two bundles of twine.

     "'Sides, we need lots of wind for this to work."  He said as he started fitting the rods into the corners and sides of the cloth.

     "I know, but do we need this much?"

     "Yeah, we do.  Look, you know how a small kite only needs a little wind?"  The boy nodded his agreement, "Well, a big kite must need a lot of wind.  Also, we need even more than normal since it'll be carrying you with it."

     "Ok, I guess."  The boy watched his bother set up the over sized kite.

     He took one of the bundles of twine and pulled a pair of scissors out of his pocket and got to work finishing the kite.  He did this by tying four long strands of twine to the corners, and then to each other in the center.  The rest of the bundle was then attached to that to make the kite string.

     "Ok, come on over and I'll tie you to the kite."  The older brother said once he was finished. 

     "Are you sure this is a good idea?"  The boy asked as he looked at the finished kite.

     "I thought you wanted to do this."

      "I do."  The boy said defensively, "It's just that I don't think this is gonna work."

     "It'll work.  I saw it on TV once."

     "Really?  On TV?"

     To his young mind, that was more than enough to convince him.  He went up to the kite and spread his arms and legs out.  The teen used the other bundle of twine to tie his bother's small arms and legs securely to the plastic rods.  They had already tested them to see if they could carry they boys weight, and found that they could without much trouble, so neither of them was worried about that.

     "Ok, you ready?"  The teenage asked after making sure his brother wouldn't fall.

     "Yeah." The boy said.  

     The teen took the end of the twine rope and tied it around his wrist.  Then, he started running into the wind.  He ran as quickly as he could until the twine rope was pulled tight.  At that moment, the boy jumped as high as his tied up legs would allow him, which wasn't very much at all.

    The teen was too busy running to notice what was happening with his brother.  He looked over his shoulder into the air, and then to the ground when he didn't see the kite in the air.  Instead of flying, like he had thought it would, the kite was being dragged face down along the grass.  He immediately turned and ran to flip the kite over and check on his younger brother.  The boy lay there, unmoving, with his eyes closed.  The teen recoiled in horror at the sight of his still brother.

    "Oh god, oh god, oh god, I killed my brother.  Oh god, what should I do?"  He said to no one in particular, pure panic coloring his voice, "I just, I just..."  He looked at his brother and paused.  A small grin was forming on they boy's face.  The older brother's face contorted in a myriad of emotions ranging from joy to anger to amusement.

    "You little brat!"  He shouted.  He punched his brother lightly in the stomach.  The boy responded to the playful blow by bursting out in laughter.

    "I got you!  I totally got you!"  He said through his laughter.

    "Yeah, yeah, you got me all right.  Just don't it again, alright?"

    "Alright."  The boy said with mock disappointment.  "Um, can you untie me now?"

    "Sure thing.  Just hold on a second."  The teen got to work getting the twine off right away, and the boy was soon able to stand without the kite getting in the way.

    "What do you think went wrong?  He asked once he was upright.

    "No idea.  Maybe it's not windy enough, or maybe I just wasn't moving fast enough.  It could be a lot of things, really."

    "Oh.  So, are we gonna try again?"

    "Well, yeah.  Not today though.  If we stay out much longer, mom'll kill us."  The teen said.  The boy nodded in agreement.

    Together, they took the kite apart and stuffed it back into the car before getting in themselves.  As they drove off, the wind seemed to blow with its own kind of laughter.

     

Word: theurgy

 

theurgy

\ THEE-ur-jee \  , noun;

1. the working of a divine or supernatural agency in human affairs.

2. a system of beneficent magic practiced by the Egyptian Platonists and others.

*************************************

               “I thought you said they wouldn’t chase us!”  Lars shouted as the group ran.  Crude goblin arrows whizzed past them, the crooked shafts blessedly inaccurate, even in the narrow passage.

                “I did, and they shouldn’t be.”  Lyra said.  “I don’t know why they are.”  The hoard of goblins was gaining on the group slowly, but steadily.

                “Maybe it has something to do with this damn trinket.”  Lars said.  He clutched the thing tucked away in his belt, suddenly very tempted to just toss it aside.

                “Watch it.”  Caruss said suddenly.  He pushed Lars aside just as an arrow flew past the space where the swordsman’s head had been not a moment before.  The action did make him stumble a bit though, letting the pursuers gain distance. 

                Lars slashed at the nearest goblin.  The attack only managed to nick it, but it was enough to gain enough time to keep going and put some kind of distance between them. 

                “Grena, are you going to do something soon?”  Lyra asked.  Grena had been running ahead, and was swinging her beads at a furious rate.  The string glowed ever brighter as she gathered energy into it.

                “Just give me a minute.”  She said, her eyes closed in concentration. 

                “I doubt we have a minute.”  Lyra said.  She stopped running just long enough to fit an arrow to her bow, turn, and shoot the closest available target.  The arrow plunged deep into one of the many goblins.  It fell, and several more tripped over their fallen comrade, slowing their pursuit for a few seconds while they recovered.

                “Ok, I’m ready.” Grena called out after a few more seconds of charging her spell.  She stopped dead and turned around to face the oncoming hoard.  She waited for the other three to pass her, then unleashed her spell.

                A fine blade-like wave of arcane energy rushed out from the string of beads, and headed not towards the goblins, but the ceiling.  The magical energy splashed against the rock, appearing to dissipate uselessly.  Lars looked ready to comment on the lack of effect until the rock started to shake and rumble.  Soon, massive piles of dirt and rock fell, and a large section of the corridor collapsed.  The goblins that hadn’t been crushed by the fallen stones had been separated from the group.  Grena collapsed, gasping for breath.  That spell had taken what little energy she had left to cast.  The others soon followed suit, taking a much needed rest after all they had been through.

                “Nice one.”  Caruss said between long gasps of breath.

                “Thanks.”  Grena responded in kind.

                “You know that won’t hold them for long, right?”  Lyra said.  Indeed, they could already hear the scraping and clanging of the goblins working their way through the rock.

                “Well then, let’s not be here when they do.”  Lars said.  He slowly got to his feet and started walking towards the exit.  The others slowly brought themselves to their feet and followed him. 

                It seemed to take hours for them to reach the exit of the corridor, but they finally exited, emerging into the abandoned temple.  Once the passage had been sealed off again, they once more collapsed, too tired to move much more.

                “Oh man, am I glad to be out of there.”  Lars said.  The others nodded and groaned their agreement.  Lars pulled the object they had retrieved out from his belt and looked at it. 

                It was a necklace with what looked to be a silver chain.  A small golden bottle hung from it, the polished yellow metal glinting in the midday light.  Intricate patterns covered the bottle, carved with detail even a master craftsman would be hard pressed to copy. 

                “So, what’s it this thing?”  He asked.  He made to pull the bottle off the chain.

                “Hold it.”  Grena said.  Lars stopped dead.

                “What?  Something wrong?”

                “That thing’s magic.  I can tell.”  While her ability to detect magic wasn’t her strong suit, she could at least tell that much.  “Let me check it out before opening it.”

                “Fine, fine.”  Lars said.  He tossed it to Grena.  She studied the patterns for a bit before taking her beads and falling into a deep, rhythmic breathing for longer spells.  A small book popped up next to her.

                “Hold on, I thought you said conjuring was hard.”  Lyra said.

                “It is.  That was object summoning.  That’s easy.”

                “So why didn’t you just do that?”

                “Because I don’t want to be accused of stealing.  The best way to do object summoning is something you already own and know about, like this book.  Otherwise, you just take something at random, which is considered stealing.  Since I don’t have a pile of arrows handy, you’re out of luck.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to start.”  Grena closed her eyes; put the bottle to her forehead, and her finger to the book.  Slowly at first, then with increasing speed, her finger started to move along the page, leaving a trail of purple ink behind it.

                “What is she doing now?”

                “She’s writing the enchantment.”  Caruss said, “It makes it easier for her.  Better get comfy though, this could take awhile.” 

It took almost two hours before Grena was finished with her work.  When she was done, she set to work examining the runes she had written.  As her eyes poured over the pages that had been filled, the color drained from her face and her eyes widened.  Her hands were trembling when she finally put the book down.

“Well?”  Caruss asked.

“It’s bad.  Really bad.”

“How?”

“I guess you can call it a god cage.  See, what it does is it finds a requested god, takes it, and traps it inside the bottle.  Then the user has full access to that god’s power.”

“Seriously?  That sounds amazing.”  Lars said.  His eyes were alight with the possibilities.

“There’s a catch though.  Keeping a god contained takes a lot of power.  That power comes from two places.  One is the world at large.  The second is converted from the user’s mind.”

“And that means?”  Lyra asked.

“It makes the user go insane.  This thing gives the power of a god to a madman.”  None of them spoke as they considered her words.  It wasn’t a very pleasant thought for any of them.

“Can it be changed?”  Lars asked, “Like, make it so the person doesn’t go crazy or something?  You know, change the power source.”

“I suppose so.  But it would take a master enchanter.  As far as I know, there’s only one person alive who even comes close.”

“Well, maybe we should pay him a visit.  I mean, think of the possibilities.”  Lars said, thinking very hard about them.

“I guess so, but…”  Grena stared

“Maybe also change the forced nature of it.”  Lyra interrupted, “Make it so the god can go in willingly and lend his or her power to a person in exchange for something.”

“That, and let the god retain the ability to communicate with others.”  Caruss added.  “Once altered, this could be the single most important artifact ever recovered.”

“So, I guess we’re not getting paid for this one?  Well, can’t say that’s too terrible, considering what we get out of it.”  Lars said.  He was almost drooling at the prospects of having a god’s power.

“Um, excuse me, but…”  Grena said, but was largely ignored.  The other three were excitedly chattering about the possibilities.  Finally though, she sent up a bolt of arcane power into the sky, which burst loudly, cutting short the conversation.  “As I was trying to say, the only man who I know of that can even attempt to alter this thing lives in Esline, which means only I can go to meet him.  And furthermore, he’s not exactly an easy person to meet.  Plus, there’s no guarantee he’ll be able to do anything, even if I do somehow manage to gain a meeting with him.  And even if he can, the Circle will likely want to keep it in the city to protect it.  It’s unlikely that they’ll let me have it again, no matter what happens.”

“So, no god powers?”  Lars asked.

“No god powers.”

“Oh.”  He hung his head in disappointment.

“So, since you’re going to the infamous Magical City, what does that mean for the rest of us?”  Lyra asked.

“I don’t know what you’ll be doing, but the three of us have a meeting place set out for times like this.”  Grena said, making it clear that she didn’t want Lyra around too much longer.

“Right.”  Caruss said.  “You’ll contact us when you’re ready to meet?”

“Like always.”  She said.  “But first, let’s go back to town, I’ve got a long way to go, and I’d like a good night’s rest before I do.”  Nobody could complain about that.  The four of them headed off towards the nearest town, each of them thinking about what the future might have in store for them.

**************************

Hey, remember the last time I used these guys, I cut off just before a bit fight?  Well, here's what happens AFTER the fight, MUAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Well, anyways, I think what I'm going to do at some point is take that last one, this one, and stitch them together with the fight in the middle of them.  Then I hall post it on another sight, and link it to here.  It might not happen any time soon, but it should happen.

Other than that, is that something like an overarching plot line I see forming?  Why, I think it is.  Hmmm...  What ever could that mean?  And will it go anywhere at all?  Only time will tell.

Word: melliferous

 

melliferous

\ muh-LIF-er-uhs \  , adjective;

1. yielding or producing honey.

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Gotta keep moving.  Gotta look for flowers.  Oh hey, there’s some nice ones!  Mm, very nice.  Lots of good stuff in these.  I’ll be able to deliver lots of goods to the hive with these.  Lots of good honey to be made for the young here.  Oh look, there’s more over there!  Oh wow, I’m almost full with all the flowers around here.  I’d better go back.  I’ll just tell everyone else about this place when I get back.  That’ll be good.  Hm?  What’s that?  It looks like a flower.  At least it’s as colorful as one.  But it’s a lot bigger.  And I’ve never seen a flower that can move before.  I’d better check it out.  It’s really big, so it must have lots of nice pollen inside.  Odd, I can’t see to find the entrance.  And it’s moving a lot more when I get closer.  Whoa!  That branch like thing almost hit me!  I’d better get out of here.  Flowers that move like that never have anything good to offer.  Besides, now that I think about it, it didn’t smell like a normal flower as well.  Oh wait, before I get back, I’d better stop of at that nice big flower patch first.  I can still hold a bit more after all.  Ok, I’m all full up.  Now I can go home, deliver my load, tell everyone about where I got it, and then it’s back out to gather more.  We have a big hive, with lots of little ones, so we’ll need lots of honey.  There it is, home sweet home.  Wait a moment, what’s that?  It looks like that big, moving flower.  That’s nice, it came right to the hive.  That must be why it tried to hit me before.  It didn’t think one of us was enough, and it wanted more to harvest its pollen.  And there’s everyone else to try and collect it all.  Hmm, odd, the flower doesn’t seem to like it when everyone else tries to get at the pollen it has.  It’s thrashing around with those weird branches again.  Hold on a second, it doesn’t want us around.  It’s attacking the hive!  I’d better go help them!  Wait a minute, if I do that, they won’t get all the pollen I have.  But if I don’t, then it might not matter much, because the big not-flower will ruin it.  What should I do?  It looks like they need all the help they can get right now.  And it is only a matter of time before someone else finds those nice big flower patches.  The ones that won’t fight back anyway.  Ok, I’ll do it!  I just have to find the right place.  Let’s see.  Grr, it’s moving too much, I can’t find a good spot.  Ah!  I see one!  At least, I think I do.  It looks like those two bright spots at the top are kind of important.  It’s protecting those more than other places anyway.  Wait for it…wait for it…Now!  For the Hive!  Got it!  I did it!  It’s leaving, and the hive is still in one piece!  Oh god, but it hurts.  I have to try and make it inside though.  It’s so far now though.  I have to at least try.  I…can…make…it…  
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Does the bee make it?  You decide.  And let that be a lesson to you.  Don't mess with bees.  They sting.  And then they die.  It's kinda sad if you think about it.  Also, listen to this while you're reading.  It's fun!