Subject: The only sane man.
Author:
Posted on: 2013-08-13 22:43:00 UTC

Agent % stared solemly at his console screen. It had alerted (gender neuter) of some unforseen free time. % disliked free time, and also disliked the cheery notice telling him to socialize. Regardless of %'s prefrences, his daily report was still advising him to interact with corpreal beings he shared a workplace with. % took a moment to steady (gender neuter)self as well as a seventh dimensional disembodied intellegence can. Then he went through the complicated process of acumulating matter to form a body.

The end result appeared to be a tall, lanky humanoid with grey skin, blank blue eyes, and slit nostrils. Now having formed a body, % was headed for the grey door of his RC before it remembered three important things. One, it needed a mouth. % rearranged his tissues to form the missing orifice, and added sharp fangs in afterthought. Two, it needed a gender so its fellow agents would have something to apply pronouns to. After a few minutes of tricky biological addition, he strode towards the door. With one hand on the knob, % stopped to look into the murky gloom of his room. Switching his vision to ultraviolet, he remembered what forgotten. Clothes. % ran over to his small closet, and chose the least complicated clothes from his hangers.

Clad in jeans and a leather jacket, % stepped out of his RC, and into the hall of headquarters. A few days ago, he wouldn't have been doing this alone. However, his partner would be in medical until the pon farr wore off. % looked around at the other agents stepping out of RC units, and noticed the all had one thing in common that he was missing. % was bald. However, by the time he was at the door to world one, agent % had a erect mane of purple bristles atop his head. Stopping in front of the door, % took a deep breath before turning the knob. New Caledonia was the largest city he'd been to, and evidently the loudest. % was about to find a map stand, but stopped when the smell of cooking pheasant whipped into his nostrils. %'s stomach growled, reminding him he'd choosen a carnivore's digestive tract. % had never injested food before, but his blood sugar was low and accompanied with a large wallet. He set off at a dead run, following the burning meat scent to its source.

Reply Return to messages