The homeless man limped into the dark alleyway. At his side he held a half empty bottle of wine. A fly landed on the dirty blanket that was a large haggard rag on his back. The man shuffled over to a large bin and sat beside it. He brought the bottle to his lips. The bottle was slightly illuminated from a gas streetlamp at the end of the alleyway. A slight skittering noise echoed from the dark end of the alley. The homeless man lowers the bottle and his sad dark eyes peer into the blackness in the alleyway. A rat skitters out of a hole in the wall and into the halo of the streetlight. It sniffs around a bit then skitters into the darkness, disappearing when it passes out of the range of the flickering lamp light. Out of the darkness there is a squeek and a thump, then nothing. After a while, the homeless man fell asleep.

Two men walked into the alley, passing the homeless man, not seeing him. They waited in the darkness. Soon, a third man joined them. They whispered in hushed tones. One of the first two sneezed. The other two looked at him with accusing eyes. The homeless man stirred. The one man passed a package to the man who had not sneezed. The one who had sneezed gave the one man an envelope. The homeless man dropped his bottle. It thunked on the ground and its contents started spilling out. All three men stared at him. The homeless man stared past them, horrified.

The three men started towards the homeless man. He did not move, but quick and confused syllables fell out of the man's mouth like words chewed into bits. The one man pulled a knife from his pocket. The blade glinting as it came into the light of the lamp. A blur of motion shot from the darkness. One of the men behind the knife wielder crumpled to the ground. The other two men turned, the homeless man suddenly not the biggest threat. Two tentacles wrapped around a leg on each of the men, dragging them screaming into the dark. One of the screams went from terror to a low maniac cry. The other scream went silent.

The sick wet sound of a knife sticking into something wet repeated itself several times. The maniac cry continued. The sticking sound stopped with a final sucking sound then the sound of metal hitting pavement echoed from the darkness. The maniac cry's point of origin rose from near the ground to up in the air. It hung there for a moment then fell. A thud resounded from the shadows, accompanied by a wet cracking sound. The cry stopped. The sound of slurping and bones crunching from inside a giant maw continued for several minutes. When it stopped, the homeless man looked at his bottle that was laying on the ground. It's clear contents was a pool on the ground. At that moment he decided that no more was he going to store water in old bottles. Certainly it did not keep well and was dirty. He stood up quickly and limped as fast as he could out of the alleyway. From the darkness an unspeakable and blasphemous belch echoed into the night.

The android sat at the terminal and opened a small opening in his head. Underneath the false hair and skin lay complex circuitry, flashing lights, and wires. The android activated the terminal's screen and input a user name and password. From the colorful menu buttons on the black background the android selected the settings menu. An on screen message popped up and announced he was due for a system upgrade. Version 2.0 was available. The android twisted a small knob that was amidst the lights and wires in his head. He pulled it and a tube full of flashing lights and wires started extending from his head. He plugged it into a connection jack on the terminal. He pressed the download button on the terminal message. A progress bar appeared and began to fill up. The android's head jerked slightly in random directions until the upload was complete.

When the "completed" message popped up, the android disconnected the tube and retracted it into his head. He stood up and walked into the hanger bay. he activated a terminal on the wall and at a extreme rate of speed opened and closed so many menus and windows that no human eye could keep track of what he was doing. When he finished a message was on the screen. It said "Hanger Security System Deactivated."

The android walked up to a shuttle and got inside. With the same extreme speed as before he activated the shuttle and opened the hanger bay doors. The security systems declared none of this. The ship rose from the hanger floor, turned in place, then headed out into space. Before anyone knew what was happening, the shuttled was at warp speed.

---

The giant gray cube shot through space, a paragon of robotic terror. A sensor declared that a small ship was near and moving towards the cube. It kept its course and intercepted the small ship. It was a shuttle. The cube sent a message to the shuttle to join them and that it would be futile to say no. A green beam of light emanated from the cube and shimmered on the shuttle. The beam pulled the shuttle into a hanger bay onto the cube.

Once aboard, the android exited the shuttle and immediately activated a terminal. In the dim green lights, beings, mostly humanoid, covered in black tubes and electronics walked slowly in the shadows. At lightning speed the android began opening menus and making selections. A being nearby stopped what it was doing and walked over to the android and shoved a sharp two-pronged finger into the androids neck. The android ceased to work on the terminal.

The beings all around the ship all began to jerk their heads slightly in random directions for several seconds. The being that had inserted the prongs into the android removed the finger and turned from the android and took a few steps. Other beings stopped what they were doing, turned and walked a few steps. They began to speak in unison. Their words echoed across the catwalks and into the heart of the ship.

Transmissions were sent across space to other cube ships all across the galaxies. Soon the beings on those ships began to speak saying the same words.

The words echoed across the galaxy.

"We comply."

---

This story was written as a little nod to J.C. Hutchin's 7th Son Trilogy. I'm still on book two on the podcast, but I am totally loving them. The story is complete and can be heard in its entirety at J.C. Hutchin's website. If you love thrillers with some technocity thrown in, clones, action, adventure, and the hunting down of the mastermind behind the assassination of the president by a 4 year old, you MUST check this podcast out. Seriously. Resistance is futile. You will comply.

We exist in the most pure, simple state we can. We choose not to stand out with looks and keep it to the standard, basic color: gray. We avoid all the needless accessories that so many of our kind have, such as lasers, rockets, and blade arms. We run on the simplest form of energy, rechargeable batteries. We stick to wheels and don't use hover plates. We even forgo transistors and use basic circuit boards and vacuum tubes. Others of our kind make fun, call us outmoded. We pay no processing power to this. We are proud to be robo-Amish.

It seems that I changed something that effected the layout and it is causing problems.

Please bear with me until I can track down the problem.

I have made only a slight few changed of late, so I believe I can solve it.

I can't right now, I'm at work, but I will try to get to it later today.

Thanks,
-Chiv

*EDIT*

Seems that a previous post had some formatting that was messing things up and this post pushed it off the main page. Should be all dandy now, folks!

I heard a noise downstairs. I laid in my bed, waiting to see if I heard another. Did I lock the door? I'm sure I did. I remember making sure my brand new door mat was still there. There it was, another noise. I grabbed my bat and went investigating. There, at the base of my stairs was a man, in a cloak. I said "Hey!" but the man was gone, no, he was right next to me. He bit my neck. "I didn't invite you in!" I exclaimed. Then I remembered the new doormat, the one that said "Welcome."

I had a whole bag of long wooden stakes. The dark mansion that overlooked the town was ominous and reeked a foreboding odor. The sun was sinking, evening was coming. It was dangerous, but I could not let another night pass while these evil soul eating creatures lived, or unlived, if you will. I opened the massive, ancient doors. The mouldering walls threatened to crush me, but I ignored them as as best I could. I found the stairway down to the cellar and descended.

I found them there, the non-living creatures, sleeping in their coffins. I ignored the smaller coffins and went straight to the ornate and terrible coffin that sat upon a raised dais. It took some effort, but I hefted the coffin open. There he was, the great vampire master Xabhishek, laying in his coffin, sleeping. There was no time to hesitate, I must strike now.

I got the sharpest and sturdiest stake from my bag and with two hands raised it into the air, and struck down against the vampires chest, right over the heart. Nothing happened. Xabhishek's eyes opened. He grinned at me as his hand with the strength of a hundred men lifted me by my neck. His other hand pulled the stake from my grasp then lifted his shirt to expose his chest. He pulled be close and bit down upon my neck. I struggled frantically, but held onto enough of my wits to realize what Xabhishek was wearing just before I passed into a living death; a Kevlar vest.

This post brought to you by Xabhishek.com It wont steal your soul, but it will provide you with a plethora of blogging topics.

Yup, I have some cool friends.

The wizard Tatch was forgetting things. He knew that the books and papers were around somewhere, but his memory was fading and his azure spire held so many bookshelves and so many books, without remembering exactly where they were, he simply had little hope of finding them. He had known this day might come, the day when he would start forgetting things, but it came far sooner than was expected. Some wizards who knew many spells and had used a great deal of magic would begin to lose their memory. Some wizards had forgotten everything quickly, but some were able to keep going for a long time, but slowly their mind would vanish, bit by bit. Tatch had begun researching a spell that would prevent this memory loss, or possibly even reverse it. The problem was, he had already begun to lose his memory before he began researching.

In the process of trying to discover what was needed for the spell, Tatch had discovered some other helpful spells, such as a spell that increased learning ability, a charm for school desks that helped focus students attentions, and a enchantment for books that would cause any book enchanted with the spell to speak the words on its pages to anyone who wanted to hear. This was a big hit for drivers who went on long caravan travels, merchants with long routes, and workers with less mind intensive jobs. All could listen to the words in the books while still being able to work on other tasks. These were all great spells that helped the world, but they did not help anyone who was losing their memory. Tatch found some of his research papers, sat down to work on them, and found himself staring at them wondering what he was trying to do. He realized that he had forgotten again, knew it was incredibly important, and clamped his hands down on his wizard's hat in distress and began to cry.

Quirl, Tatch's familiar saw this and resolved to do something about it. Quirl was a brightly colored bird who had once been injured and on the brink of death, but Tatch had took him in and healed him and imbued magical abilities upon him, including speech and morphed talons that allowed him to carry a larger range of objects that normal. Quirl was very sad to see Tatch in such distress and flew out if the azure spire and rose in the winds above the city.

Tatch's tower rose high into the skies above the city of Melange. Melange used to be a frontier town with very little to offer anyone except for a bit of lodging and rest on the way between larger cities. It had been settled by the survivors of the rampage of Ghast the Black Dragon. Ghast had destroyed three large cities that were near each other and the few survivors banded together to form a new town, Melange. They had nothing to almost nothing to their names, but they survived. Tatch had arrived one day in Melange, set up a small tent, and proceeded to perform little tasks around the town for free. He helped crops grow better, weather stay a bit nicer, and even gave the food in the inns an extra special zing that travelers began to notice. Soon the town began to get more business and grow. After just a few years, the town was a city, a hub among all the large cities, and a true home for Tatch. The spire was a tower of life to the city. Tatch had done so much for Melange and its citizens, and continued to do so to this day, and had never asked for anything in return. Quirl knew it was time for them to give back, and he knew that asking was almost more effort than was required to make it happen.

Quirl flew through the town, stopping to talk to citizens of Melange at many shops, inns, and residences. He spoke mainly to people who had been in Melange from its beginning. He told them of Tatch's plight. He was losing his memory, but he was trying to discover what was needed for a spell that would heal his memory and the memory of others who were forgetting. The citizens listened, held meetings, and decided what they needed to do.

Everyone who was able went into Tatch's spire. They began to recount tales of their memories of Tatch any time he was not able to remember something he needed to for his research. The sparking of old memories rejuvenated his mind for short periods and allowed him to continue his efforts. Tatch had never been a very organized wizard, so many helped put notes and books and papers into an organized system which helped Tatch find things easier. Others helped with small experiments, made food for Tatch and everyone else helping, and before too long, Tatch had a breakthrough.

After researching tediously over many months, Tatch discovered what was needed for the spell. He had found the right ingredients, special words, and complex gestures required to rework the mind so it would stop forgetting, and even remember what had been forgotten. It took him a long time to cast in on himself, and he needed much help to get through it for his mind was in and out of usefulness quite more ofton than before, but after several false starts and failed attempts, he cast it successfully. His memories flooded back to him, and stayed.

The city of Melange thrived on. Tatch shared the spell with the world and many older wizards were able to regain their memories. Even the elderly of non-wizardly nature were healed of similar plights. The research of the spell led to many other discoveries that led to spells that healed many with diseases of the mind, dementia, schizophrenia, and psychosis. The world never forgot about it, either.

---

Alzheimer's is a big deal. Researching a cure is something I've always given to when able. When I learned Terry Pratchett had it, I was more enthused to get something done about it. Then I heard about JOGLE for The Alzheimer's Society. What is it? Here it is, right from their blog: Starting 20th June 2008 Dave and Nick, two psychiatric nurses and corrupt manager Steve aim to cycle John O'Groats to Lands End, unsupported in 9 Days. They will be joined by Dr Steve for most of Scotland. The reason for this madness is to raise funds for the Alzheimer's Society and promote awareness of the disease and its massive impact on both sufferers and their families.

Please check out their site and please donate if you are able.

When zombies showed up, many argued fears came true. If a zombie grabbed bare flesh, they could tear the flesh apart. The zombies carried a disease that would weaken flesh they touched, but when it infected someone, it would take over the body, strengthening it. Fire did nothing, bullet wounds healed fast. But then, reality hit. When the martial artists retaliated with full coverage body suits, the zombies didn't stand a chance against their fury. Fighters snuck up on the fast zombies, quietly killing them. Then, using great martial speed, the slow zombie mobs got drop kicked, one by one.

The lights dim, the judges watch. His feet move at a lumbering pace across the stage, arms swaying to the music. On queue to the sounds, his head turned towards the audience with a hungry stare. He stretches his arms as the music rises , bowing down low as the music slows. The beat quickening, his arms undulate uncannily, producing a cheer from the crowd. Music moving to a heavy beat, at each hard pump of the bass he moves with a lurching forward gait. Phone in voter, he may be the next winner of So You Think You Can Shamble.