Sine Wave's Fanfiction

[Reply #120 on:]

 

Originally posted by SW:

“Hey, I’m a really good excuse for a mate!” Fry retorted.

“They can’t just take the ship without permission! They have to sit around, talk about what they’re going to do in front of the rest of us who don’t even care, and then take the ship without permission.”

Still good lines a second time around.

Now Nixon and a quantum pilot wave too.  The plot possibilities are shooting in all directions, hope they don't get "entangled".

And you have forced me to learn who Mansart and Laura Petrie were, so I can pass this lurking off as an education.  Speaking of which, Helicon?  Asimov's Foundation Series, right?

[Reply #121 on:]

You would be correct, sir!

Oh, and thanks km73. Where would I be without you?

I'm hoping that the next update will actually be the final quarter of the story, so it may take a while, but it will also be the first long update since the week I started posting this thing.

km, you may be getting some (many) previews. 

[Reply #122 on:]

Vraiment? Wirklich?
I'm flattered.

JN: And he made me look up La Monte Young. In the context of Hypnotoad.

[Reply #123 on:]

Wow, uh, yeah. Man I've been slacking. So, uh, here's some story, or something. Muchos gracias a km73 for doing everything.

Part Four

Bender sat at the end of a long row of slot machines on the floor of the Montalban Casino, on the planet Corinthia, in the Cordoba system. Having popped in another quarter, he pulled the lever on the side of the machine and propped up his head with his free hand. He watched the symbols whirl past with general apathy, until they eventually came to rest.

“Apple, apple, snake,” he said disinterestedly, and sighed before putting in another quarter.

“Aw, sure, this is morally reprehensible,” he said to himself as the machine started, “but where’s the excitement if it’s not legally reprehensible, too?” As the tumblers began to slow again, he happened to spy a man in a tuxedo walking away from the high-rollers section of the casino floor, talking with another man. Preliminary observations revealed that his tux was an authentic designer model, and the jewels in his cuff links could finance a war against a fifth-world country.

“...and so Martha and I were planning on taking the whole family on a vacation to Necropolis Four, servants and all,” he said, walking past where Bender sat. His interest was sufficiently piqued, and he jumped into action.

“So, you’re leaving on vacation next week, huh?” Bender said, knocking the man’s companion out of the way and slinging an arm around his shoulders.

“Do I know you?” the man asked.

“No. So when did you say you were getting back?”

“The thirtieth, bu-”

“And you said there won’t be anyone home?”

“No, there won’t…” the man said, but Bender had already ducked behind the row of slot machines before the words finished leaving his mouth.

“Mwuhaheheheh,” Bender laughed quietly, and slipped a few of the man’s hairs into his chest. All he needed was to run a quick DNA scan and find a phone book and he’d be in business.

------------

“...you’re listening to FM 2030, bringing you the best of the 2380’s and 90’s, 2750’s, 60’s and 70’s, and the 29-teens all day long.”

Leela rolled over and smacked the top of the clock-radio. After a short respite, she dragged herself out of bed and began preparing for her first day of work. A shower, cup of coffee and all parts of a nutritional breakfast later she exited the front door of the apartment building. Waiting for her at the curb was one of the many identical autocars that shuttled people to work around the city. As she opened the door to step in, she caught a glimpse of Fry rushing out of the servants’ entrance to catch a workers’ bus departing in the opposite direction.

The car arrived at the spaceport exactly on schedule, and Leela quickly bid farewell to her carmates, noting to bring a newspaper next time to avoid the uncomfortable small talk that developed on the way over. Especially the part where they asked why she didn’t get an upgraded eye, so she could see in three dimensions, or even four and five dimensions, as well as the infrared and x-ray spectrums if she was willing to dish out a little more cash. Some models even had flash photography.

She walked into her office outside the hangar she was in charge of running, and picked up her job instructions from the out box in the wall. She glanced over the papers, but her mind was still preoccupied. It wasn’t the improvements themselves that bothered her, though; it was the attitude in which they were made. Simply replacing the imperfections in life, while tempting, seemed to cheapen the experience, to detract from what makes people who they are. And not only was that encouraged in this place, she thought, walking up onto the catwalk running above the hangar, those who opted to keep what makes them themselves were forced into a second class of pseudo-slaves.

“Woahs,” a familiarly obese and unkempt man interrupted from the hangar floor, “I won’ts mind workin’ behinds this dame!”

Leela turned around and leaned over the railing, looking to see who was talking.

“Or in fronts of hers, too! Wowza!”

She sighed. “Get back to work, you peons!”

------------

A whistle sounded from high on the wall over the conveyor belt Fry was seated at, signaling the start of lunch hour, which was really only forty minutes, and had been cut in half from that that day due to a quality control error. Apparently, someone had started packaging the Zeno’s Paradox playsets with the Cowboys and Indians kits, causing the latter to malfunction. That that someone had been Fry, well, that wasn’t important, and it had only taken half an hour to re-sort them all, anyway. He grabbed his lunch box and headed towards the cafeteria.

“What up?” Fry said, sitting down at a table of fellow laborers. The men around him turned and stared. Once he sat down, the man next to Fry directed his attention below the table and passed him a folded piece of paper. It read:

No talking allowed!

scribbled in a hasty but obviously poorly practiced scrawl. The men sat in silence for the duration of their meal, until the whistle sounded again to declare the end of their break.

On his way out of the cafeteria, one of the men Fry had sat with bumped into him, passing him another note in the process. After he had navigated the myriad corridors back to his work station, Fry hazarded opening the note, using his workbench as cover. It read:

Under the dock
Tomorrow night
12:30

------------

“You’re not going.”

“But Leela-”

“No buts, Fry!” Leela said. “We can’t risk you going out somewhere and getting caught. Besides, you don’t even know what this is about!”

“Leela, did I ever tell you about the rattlesnake and the bumblebee?”

“Yes, it’s the same story you told me when you wanted to get that tattoo of Jerry Garcia from a space lizard.”

“Hey, his needles didn’t seem that rusty. But besides, now everyone’s gonna think I’m a pansy and a loser. They might even leave me out of the Christmas gift exchange.”

“That’s the point,” Leela said, “you’re supposed to stay in line, we’re in hiding, remember? Sometimes you’re so immature. Just go get some sleep.”

She opened the door to her room and then closed it behind him.

[Reply #124 on:]

Is it a burden to be so awesome?

[Reply #125 on:]

this story is 47 different kinds of brilliant.  You've got an excellent style.  Simple, yet expressive, yet hilariously nerdy.  I really liked this last update; The cyborg-bourgeois planet that Fry and Leela have ended up on has some real potential.   Please don't make us wait another three months for the next part 

 

“Aw, sure, this is morally reprehensible,” he said to himself as the machine started, “but where’s the excitement if it’s not legally reprehensible, too?”

Ahh, good old bender 

Also, 1800th post! woot!

[Reply #126 on:]

Congrats on your watery emperorness, soylentO!

 

Originally posted by soylentOrange:
this story is 47 different kinds of brilliant.  You've got an excellent style.  Simple, yet expressive, yet hilariously nerdy.

    
I've been telling him all that for eons. At last, confirmation from another outstanding writer.

 

Please don't make us wait another three months for the next part. 

Yes, hopefully the gap will be a tad more minuscule this time, but hey, either way, it'll be worth the wait.

[Reply #127 on:]

Well done. You deserve a pat on the back.

*carefully pats Sine Wave on the back and then runs off*

[Reply #128 on:]

I remember reading this when I was a lurker on the board and hadn't registered yet, but forgot who wrote it and what it was called til now. This is so good, it might pass off as a lost episode. 

[Reply #129 on:]

Wow, I haven't alienated my fanbase! Go me.

@SO - Yes, congratulations on your new rank! And also, thank you very much for your comment and continued readership(?). You can inflate an ego pretty well yourself, you know.

@km73 - anything I could say to you I've already said a thousand times, and I still mean it. Thanks.

@Decapodian - I'm not that smelly, am I?

@Tornadoboy - Wow, thank you! And nothing like someone joining the board and posting three fics between my updates to make me feel productive.

Thank you all again for reading and commenting, and hopefully I'll get some more done soon...ish.

[Reply #130 on:]

 

Originally posted by Decapodian:
Well done. You deserve a pat on the back.

*carefully pats Sine Wave on the back and then runs off*

*Decapodian carefully steps on JN, sleeping off a month-long drunken carosuel in the alley*

Huh? Wha?  Oh, SW is writing again?

*reads*

Hey, I remember this guy.  He was good.  Still is, apparently.  Loved the easy listening "best of" radio station.  You make humor look so easy.

*Falls back into drunken coma.*

[Reply #131 on:]

Oi, drinkin when you have kids to look after! Sous! Lush!

[Reply #132 on:]

Ahahaha; I should go old-thread spelunking more often. Look at this exquisite long-lost gem I dredged up.

Remember this?:

Tasteful little drabble

Ooh, I love "...letting sensuality cover my apprehension"; that is truly class.

Splendid.

     

[Reply #133 on:]

Eh, I guess it's not that bad. Still more of the past version of myself than I'd like spread around, but at least I didn't flesh it out into a full fic like I thought of doing.

And that was over a year ago? Damn.

edit - Haha, you said spelunking.

[Reply #134 on:]

Why, yes, I did. But at least I didn't say 'copiously spelunking'.

It's excellently done for such a concise, compressed piece. It could've easily strayed into smutty territory, heh, but you keep it tasteful. Plus, first-person narrative from Leela's point of view? - I love that you tried that.
And apparently the past version of yourself was just as literate and underrated as the current one.

Ten gold stars for you.

[Reply #135 on:]

Dammit, didn't want to do it, but... Well, my first-ever double post in honor of your first-ever submission to TLZ.

What better time to bust out this
|
|
|
V
again.

You already know how inordinately attached I've become to your ongoing fic, but I think what I like best about Biogenesis is the seamless unstilted episode-quality feel to it, as well as all the little touches - such as Fry thinking he's writing a "witty" text message, then it turns into "juvenile" when you switch to Leela's perspective; or "away" being only a relative term.
*hugs*

[Reply #136 on:]

An update? In less than two months? And it's of somewhat decent length? Who is this guy?

------------------------

Bender sat in the shadow cast by a dumpster under a streetlamp, patiently observing the walled-in house across the street. He’d pulled all the stops planning this, researching blueprints and receipts from security companies, running algorithms on entry and exit strategies, the whole gambit. With a stifled snicker, he donned a ski mask, and emerged from his hiding place. Nonchalantly, he crossed the street, whistling to himself. When he got to the other side, he took a quick last glance around, and then threw a grappling hook over the wall.

When he got to the other side, he could finally see the house proper. Although it was done in the traditional space-colonial style, the manicured grounds and the sheer immensity of the home exuded wealth. After briefly sweet-talking the home’s security system, he made his way into the house. In a matter of minutes, he had found his way to a door labeled “Trophy Room.”

“Well, that was easy,” Bender said, “...too easy.” He paused. “Oh come on,” he said to himself, “stop being so negative. You’re getting to be worse than Lenz’s law!”

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped inside, clicking the antenna on top of his head forward. Light emanated from his eye sockets and illuminated the room. Surrounding him were glass cases filled with all manner of priceless and exotic artifacts. Bender zigzagged across the room looking in each of the cases.

“Wow, the scalp of the last Mohican, Annie Hall on Betamax, a bottle from the last batch of Coca-Cola - ooh, Napoleon’s Tumor!”

He reached for the latch on the case, and was about to open it, when his gaze was caught by the gleam coming from another object. He froze in place, and the lower half of his mouth detached from his face.

The object that had caught his attention was sitting on display in the middle of the room, its case much larger than it needed to be for its minuscule size. Putting his mouth back together, Bender spoke to himself in a hushed voice as he approached it.

“Asimov’s Laws, inscribed on the original microchips he brought down from Mt. Silicon!” Slowly, deliberately, he fixed Grabby and Squeezy to the latches on either side of the case, carefully pressing down with whichever of his identical fingers he uses for thumbs.

“Freeze right there!”

“AGOOBLABLAH!” Bender yelled and whirled around from the case, arms flailing in surprise. When he turned around, he saw the owner of the house standing in the doorway, a squad of policemen behind him.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“What,” the man said, “you didn’t think I was stupid, did you?”

“Yes,” Bender said plainly. Two of the policemen walked forward and grabbed him by the arms before leading him away.

------------

Fry sighed as he opened the door to the basement, and fumbled for the light switch. Failing in that, he felt his way through the still unfamiliar kitchen, and eventually found his way to his bedroom. Not wanting to spend any more time thinking about having let Leela down than he had to, he quickly stripped to his underpants and climbed into bed. He had just finished tucking himself in when he realized that the wall was warmer and much more shapely than usual. Apparently the wall realized this too because it started to scream and knocked Fry out of bed. He scrambled to his feet and slammed back against the far wall next to the door, his shoulder finally finding the light switch by accident. Across the room from him, he could now see that a young brunette woman was standing on his bed in her underpants, plastered to the wall in much the same manner he was. They both stared at each other in confusion.

“Who the hell are you?” they both said in unison, and then sighed in frustration.

“Who am I? I live here!” the girl said.

“Well, that would explain the box set of Dancing on the Stars I found, but where have you been for the last three days?”

“Oh god, Clarice must have taken on a boarder again,” she said to herself. “But didn’t she leave you a holomem or anything?”

“A holowhat?”

“Look, it’s right there on the counter.”

She led Fry out into the kitchen to where there was a red semispherical protrusion from the countertop. She pressed down on it, causing a small, transparent version of Clarice to shimmer into existence above it. Her robotic eye was missing, leaving a receptacle Fry thought looked like a wall socket.

“Well, I guess I should welcome you to the Antoinette household. Feel free to make yourself at home, and acquaint yourself with the appliances. Also, I should tell you that you’ll be sharing your quarters with my servant, Rachel. She should be back from her mandatory two week vacation at Spa 101 Monday night, so I guess you two will have to work out how to share the room then, but you should make do. There’s a tutorial on how to use the kitchen I put in after this so you can hopefully manage to make something decent for dinner.”

The hologram reached towards them, until her hand took up the entire space of it. The miniature room that had been behind Clarice whirled around, and a thick chunk was heard before the feed cut out. Rachel reached over and hit the button again, turning off the holomem.

“Oh yeah, I think she told me to look at that,” Fry said, “but I got bored after the first three words so I turned it off.”

“Well, I guess we’ll have to figure out where you’re going to sleep,” Rachel said. “I think there’s a folding table you can set up under the stairs. I’ll give you my blanket so you don’t look too pathetic.” She walked over to the closet and opened it up.

“Yeah, the table’s in here,” she said, letting Fry carry it out while she went into her room to get the blanket.

“So,” she said when she came back out, “what’s your name?”

“Oh, Fr-uh, I mean Rob,” Fry said, still trying to get the table through the doorway to the stairs.

“Hey, both our names start with the same letter. Funny coincidence.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Fry said, popping a leg of the table into place.

“Well, goodnight,” Rachel said, seeing he had the table fixed up.

“Goodnight,” Fry said, pulling the blanket over himself as Rachel turned off the light and closed the door.

------------

The Planet Express hangar sat stark and empty, looking incredibly useless without a spaceship. The same could be said of the remaining Planet Express crew, who were gathered around the conference table.

Hermes was staring intently down at the table, carefully sorting and organizing the cards in his hands. He looked across the table at Scruffy, and asked, “Do you have any threes?”
 
“Nope,” Scruffy said. “Go fish.”

Hermes took a card from the pile. “Okay Zoidberg, your turn.”

“Alright. Amy, do you have any cards with the unarmed human males on them?”

“Uh... go fish.”

“Pfah! Always with the fishing. And where is the fish? We’ve been playing for hours and I haven’t eaten a thing!”

The doors to the conference room opened, and the rest of the crew stopped paying attention to Zoidberg as the Professor walked into the room and stood at the head of the table.

“Good news, everyone! Without a ship, we can’t have a delivery company.”

“So what does that mean?” Amy asked.

“It means you’re all fired,” the Professor said cheerily. “Off you go!”

“Sweet parakeet of Mozambique!” Hermes exclaimed. “But how am I supposed to keep Labarbara and I in the green stuff if I’m not makin’ any green stuff?”

 “And I don’t want to move back in with my parents!” Amy said.

“Bwuh-huh-huh-huh,” Zoidberg blubbered, “I’ll be forced to live on the street!”

“You already live on the street, you stinkin’ crab!” Hermes said.

“Wait,” Scruffy said, standing up, “Scruffy’s got a plan, but you’ll need to disconnect the boiler and get lots of barrels.”

------------

Rachel slid the eggs out of the skillet onto the plate next to the sausage and bacon, which sat on a platter next to a bowl of cereal and a glass of orange juice. She walked the platter over to the dumb waiter, and placed it next to another identical one. Sure was great of the new guy to help out, she thought sarcastically as she sent the elevator up. Oh yeah, the new guy. That she was supposed to wake up in the morning. She walked over to the stairway and began to open the door.

“Hey, are you-“

“OW!” Fry yelled, and sat up from behind the now-open door, rubbing his head.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” Rachel said, and helped Fry off the floor. “Wait, what happened to the foldable table?”

“It refolded.”

“Alright, well, you’d better go get dressed or you’re going to miss the bus to work. I guess we can try to get you some better accommodations by tonight.”

Rachel left to go wait on Leela and Clarice, while Fry went back to the bedroom and picked his clothes up off the floor from the previous night. It was funny how much the room’s character changed just knowing it wasn’t his anymore. A bowl of Bachelor Chow later, he was upstairs helping Rachel clear the plates, and then they were both out the door to work.

------------

Leela sat at her desk, a look of disdain and mild frustration on her face. She’d found that that had become her constant demeanor at work, and probably the best way to make it through the day. These people were enough to make Fry and Bender look fairly incompetent in comparison, instead of incredibly so. This wouldn’t have been too much of a problem, except that the sentry bots running customs were much stricter on inspections than the Professor, who typically did his best to circumvent such things. Best of all, any time something happened, she was always blamed for it.

Her silent despondency was interrupted when there suddenly came a toy piano rendition of “London Bridge is Falling Down” from behind her.

“Great,” she said to herself, “more improper procedure forms from the main office.” She reached behind herself over to the Out Box in the wall, removed the stack of papers, and began to fill them out. She had just gotten to article 1919, section 231, which required her to accept sole responsibility for causing all the loss and damage to which the Kusanagi Federal Shipyard had been subjected as a consequence of negligence by the supervisor, when she heard a commotion in the hangar below. She set down her pen and walked down to the hangar floor to see what had gone wrong this time.

“There ain’t nothins wrong, I swears!” Sal said as Leela approached, the look on her face yelling “trouble” to anyone in earshot. She walked straight past him, nearly walking straight into him, and into the hangar of the ship.

“For the twentieth time,” Leela said exasperatedly, “radioactive cargo has to be tied down with the radio de-active netting. Don’t forget again.”

She stormed back out, and left the grumbling men to get back to work.

------------------------

Hope you liked.

[Reply #137 on:]

 

Who is this guy?

I told you once: it's that non-writer guy you are.

Oh, I see you made some little additions to the ends of a few scenes to ameliorate the occasional bluntness; gut, yes, that fleshes it out more. Right, the transitions were my main reservation.
"It was funny how much the room's character changed just knowing it wasn't his anymore" - that's an interesting insight and imparts a nice touch of realism.

Other than that, guess I'll just repeat some of what I've already relayed to you - Well, still exorbitantly fond of the rollicking card-playing scene; and you even improved it. You capture the PE crew so well. In addition, allow me to again point out that "Dancing on the Stars" is brilliant on at least a couple of different levels. I chortled.
And so on and so forth.

[Reply #138 on:]

frakking awesome.  That Lentz's law joke had me cracking up.

[Reply #139 on:]

This is great stuff.  To shamelessly quote a couple that made me laugh out loud--

“Wow, the scalp of the last Mohican, Annie Hall on Betamax, a bottle from the last batch of Coca-Cola - ooh, Napoleon’s Tumor!”

"He had just finished tucking himself in when he realized that the wall was warmer and much more shapely than usual."

--and the card game.  That was dead-on Hermes and Zoidberg.

And Lenz's law--wasn't that a barrel of laughs?

*Googles Lenz's Law*

Hoping you write more.  Summer's coming, right?

[Reply #140 on:]

 

Originally posted by km73:
Oh, I see you made some little additions to the ends of a few scenes to ameliorate the occasional bluntness; gut, yes, that fleshes it out more. Right, the transitions were my main reservation.
"It was funny how much the room's character changed just knowing it wasn't his anymore" - that's an interesting insight and imparts a nice touch of realism.

I did something right on my own. Hooray! take that, inconfidence!

 

Originally posted by soylentOrange:
frakking awesome.  That Lentz's law joke had me cracking up.

Physics nerds of the world, unite!

 

Originally posted by JustNibblin':
This is great stuff.  To shamelessly quote a couple that made me laugh out loud--

“Wow, the scalp of the last Mohican, Annie Hall on Betamax, a bottle from the last batch of Coca-Cola - ooh, Napoleon’s Tumor!”

"He had just finished tucking himself in when he realized that the wall was warmer and much more shapely than usual."

--and the card game.  That was dead-on Hermes and Zoidberg.

And Lenz's law--wasn't that a barrel of laughs?

*Googles Lenz's Law*

Hoping you write more.  Summer's coming, right?

Uhh, if by summer you mean working full time, night classes, and trying to fit in a few hundred miles of biking a week on top of that, then yes. I'm really sorry to be saying this after keeping you guys waiting so much for no real good reason (other than me just not writing), but I'm not sure how much writing I'll be able to get done. However, classes don't start for two weeks, and manual labor gives you lots of time to think, so hopefully I'll be able to bang something out before things get really hectic.

God I treat my readers poorly.

[Reply #141 on:]

Bang something out, heh...hammers... construction.
Pun assumedly unintended?

 

Originally posted by JustNibblin':
--and the card game.  That was dead-on Hermes and Zoidberg.

'Twas, wasn't it? He's just uncannily good that way.

 

I did something right on my own.

God I treat my readers poorly.

Don't be nonsense. You do plenty right on your own. (A certain piece of musical scrumptiousness comes to mind). yum (Actually it's pretty much permanently lodged in my mind). And if sporadic updates of wit and awesomeness equates to treating readers poorly, then by all means, continue.
*is very enticed by impending bit of 'drama'*

[Reply #142 on:]

Updating like clockwork every three months.

------------------------

Meanwhile, Captain Zapp Brannigan sat on the bridge of the Nimbus, in orbit over Lolitan 4. He had been performing reconnaissance non-stop for the last several days, leaving no rock unturned on every world along the way. However, the direction of the nearest nudist college or stewardess homeworld greatly determined what that way was.

“Kif, adjust the television,” Zapp Brannigan ordered his underling. “I can’t make out anything the President’s saying, and I’m losing out on valuable, sensual observation time.”

Kif sighed. “Sir, that’s because the screen is off. It will turn on automatically when he calls.”

“Well then, how about giving me a back rub to pass the time?”

Kif shuddered, but to his relief the Nimbus’s main screen cut on, revealing the head of Earth’s President, Richard Nixon.

“Brannigan,” he said, “one of my key campaign contributors has informed me that one of the fugitives you’re supposed to be looking for has been apprehended. He’s being held on Corinthia.”

“I see,” Brannigan said. Silence ensued.

“...so I want you to go interrogate him!” Nixon said gruffly. “Find out where the others are.”

 “Comprend, much-hacho,” Zapp replied.

“Very well. Contact me when you’ve made any progress.”

Zapp swiveled his chair to the side and stood in a heroic pose. “Come, Kif, there are much preparations to be made!”

Kif sighed.

------------

Fry walked down stairs into the kitchen, carrying the plates and glasses from Leela and Clarice’s dinner to the counter next to the sink. Rachel began to wash them as Fry got out a towel to dry them.

“So,” Rachel said, holding a plate up to the steam jet on the counter, “are you excited about tonight?”

“Huh?” Fry said, taking the plate and tossing it hand to hand to keep from burning himself.

“You mean the other people at work didn’t tell you?”

“Oh, that,” Fry said. “Eh, I don’t think I’m gonna go.”

“Why not?”

“I, uh, just, well, don’t really feel like it?” Fry lied.

“Oh, come on,” Rachel said encouragingly. “It’s an important meeting. Besides, everyone’s going to be there.”

“Well...”

------------

Fry and Rachel stood in the kitchen, the only illumination coming from the clock on the oven. It read 11:38; Leela and Clarice had gone to bed over an hour ago, but they were sure to be silent just in case. Rachel led Fry to a corner of the room, and pulled back a tile of the floor. Beneath lay a cement panel with a handle attached to it. She lifted the panel and climbed down the ladder inside, motioning for Fry to follow her. Fry took a last look around the room; he didn’t want to do what Leela told him not to, but everyone was going to be there, and then wouldn’t it make him stand out even more to not go? He slid into the opening, and closed the hatch over his head.

Rachel turned on a flashlight as Fry stepped off the ladder, and he found himself inside a large pipe.

“These are overflow pipes,” Rachel explained as she led him along, “don’t worry, they run on a very strict schedule.” Fry continued after her nervously.

After nearly an hour of winding through the ever-conjoining pipeline, Fry could finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, which, because it was still night, made no sense whatsoever. When they reached the end, he found that they were under the pier next to the factory, where lights and a rudimentary podium had been set up. Hundreds of others were gathered around in front of the water, while a few sat in folded chairs behind the pulpit.

Rachel led Fry down to the front of the crowd, and sat him down. She then turned and took a seat on one of the chairs. The man sitting next to her stood up, and walked to the podium.

“Men, women... well actually I guess that covers everyone here,” he paused to gain his composure.  “Today, er, tonight, we gather to show our solidarity, and to stand up for our humanity. For thirty long years, Multivac and its army of half-robot minions have enslaved us, humiliated us, and tried to drive us to extinction. Well no longer. We’re going to fight back, and we’re all prepared to do what it takes to do so.”

The man sat back down to mild applause; it was the same speech he gave at the start of every meeting. When the clapping stopped, Rachel stood and took his place at the podium.

“As you all know,” she began, “our current undertaking is not an easy one. However, it is proving to be even more difficult than we had dared to hope. Myself and three others were just released from a ‘mandatory vacation’ in the basement of the Ministry of Synthetic Emotional Analog. Thanks to our conditioning, we left with our psyches intact, but the information that put us there was more depressing than helpful. We found that there is no one who knows how Multivac was built, they only have plans to a machine that can build a Multivac. This makes it nearly impossible to try to sabotage.” She let the disheartened murmurs in the crowd die down. “However, we do have a new addition to our numbers. Rob, would you like to introduce yourself?”

Fry got up and walked to the podium. He stopped, stood, looked around the crowd, and cleared his throat several times before speaking.

“Uh, hi. I haven’t been here very long,” Fry said, “but I can tell we don’t get treated fairly. Who are they to think that they can just take over? Sure, they have all the guns and the robot assassins and they control everything on this planet. And yeah, maybe they can think a million times faster than us and have superhuman strength. But just because we’re not as smart, or as strong, or as good at anything as they are doesn’t mean we’re not as good as they are. And that’s what we have to remember.”

Fry walked through the applauding crowd back to his seat and sat back down, with Rachel’s eyes following him dreamily.

------------------------

End Part Four

[Reply #143 on:]

oh boy, Fry's gotten himself into trouble now.  I'm sure going to a human underground meeting and winding up with one of its leaders 'staring dreamily' at him is not quite what Leela had in mind when she told him to stay inconspicuous.  Can't wait for the next update!

Also, I don't think I've seen such a spot on treatment of Zapp Brannigan's character.  Absolutely hilarious.

[Reply #144 on:]

 

Also, I don't think I've seen such a spot on treatment of Zapp Brannigan's character.  Absolutely hilarious.

That is scarily akin to what I said.

***

Even though you didn't add or tweak anything, you know I'm glad you got back into the 'flow' of this, as it were. Also nice that I now know more about the Asimov refs.

Fry's characteristic line about not being as good at anything not connoting that the humans aren't as good as the cyborgs is an exceedingly insightful comment.
And very much the kind of thing he might spurt. (Or spout).

Alos    , on the Zapp/Kif/Nixon interactions:
I overflow with mirth.

(I can just hear Zapp talking).
(Well, for that matter, Kif and Nixy too).

[Reply #145 on:]

Wow, I'm super behind on this one.  Apologies. Did you change the beginning around?  Should I read the entire thing over again?

[Reply #146 on:]

Not the very beginning, no, but let's see... he changed the construct of how Fry gained prescient powers, as well as the possible consequences of him taking advantage of his future-peering too much; along with a few other tweaks and improvements here and there.

Should I read the entire thing over again?

Depending on what point you left off - ?  Worth rereading from the beginning though
anyway.


Also if you haven't read the short completed one, Biogenesis..? Highly recommended as well.

[Reply #147 on:]

ugh, who wastes their time improving stuff they've already written?

...

Anyways, thankya, I believe I will start from the beginning again.  Hey Sine, since this redone piece is a derivative of your work, would it be a cos?
 

[Reply #148 on:]

Hey Sine, since this redone piece is a derivative of your work, would it be a cos?

I hate you
 

I'll let him actually answer that though

Also, JB: I'll re-enjoy and comment on your latest "improvement" ASAP, of course, but in the meantime worth mentioning here that I actually just brought up a quote from Of Mice and Mensans to Sine a brief while ago - the TV bit, "It's kind of like Baywatch, only with more protractors" - as an example of a perfect show-worthy line.

[Reply #149 on:]

Fry took a last look around the room; he didn’t want to do what Leela told him not to, but everyone was going to be there, and then wouldn’t it make him stand out even more to not go? He slid into the opening, and closed the hatch over his head.

Little touches like this capture Fry perfectly.

It's great that, besides having a string of great one-liners, a substantial plot is starting to build up.  I hope you have time to write more, I've always really enjoyed your comedy.  I look forward to your next update in November 

Hey Sine, since this redone piece is a derivative of your work, would it be a cos?

I think you're going off on a tangent here...

[Reply #150 on:]

Responses? Cool.

@sO: Thanks! And yeah, wrenches are going to be thrown coming up, if you catch my gears.

@km: Thanks to you too!

@JBERGES: The beginning got changed only slightly, really only altered a couple plot points to make things I still haven't written yet work out better. Still, if you've managed to fall behind on my updating schedule I'm surprised you remember anything about it at all, so a refresher may be a good idea. I's not that long anyway.

Also, you continue to assert yourself as Lord of the Pun.

@JN: I might squeeze out some more by the end of October.  But seriously, though, don't expect too much. 

[Reply #151 on:]

Sine: OK, all caught up again!

But just because we’re not as smart, or as strong, or as good at anything as they are doesn’t mean we’re not as good as they are. And that’s what we have to remember.”

This line wins the fanfic.  Spot on.

[Reply #152 on:]

I might squeeze out some more by the end of October.

Hey, I'm almost a full two weeks ahead of schedule!

------------------------

Bender sat in his cell on Corinthia, and had the lights been on he would have looked generally bored. When the lights did come on, however, his expression changed to that of mild disinterest, and he watched the chief of police and several guards walk through the cell block towards him.

“Alright,” the Chief said, “time for us to hand you over.”

He slid the cell door open, while two of the guards went in and cuffed Bender’s hands and feet. As they led him out, the chief reclosed the door, slamming it violently. As he walked away, a bolt rolled off the edge of the sink, landing next to the toilet. When it hit, several of the cinderblocks at the bottom of the wall slid out of place, giving view of the grass outside.

------------

When Bender and his escorts reached the outside of the prison, they were joined by even more DOOP soldiers, and continued on to the Nimbus, situated a few feet away. Once on board, he was taken through the bowels of the ship to the brig, cell AA-23. The door opened to reveal a small, white, angular room, with Zapp Brannigan in the center of it.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our masked marauder.”

“Um, sir,” Kif said, poking out from behind him, “it’s not. This is actually the prisoner we’re supposed to be picking up.”

“Oh,” Zapp said. “Well in any case, you have some ‘information’ that we could ‘use,’ if you know what I mean.” Zapp walked past Bender to a control panel by the door. “Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

Bender looked around the room, the place where fate had led him. His eyes narrowed in hostile determination.

“Playing along with the universe has got me nothing but repeated bites in the ass! Go ahead, do your worst.”

“Okay,” Zapp said, and pushed a button. “Take her away, boys.” He motioned to a machine at the side of the room and walked out, Kif following close behind. As the doors closed behind them, a loud electric hum began to sound, shortly followed by high-pitched feminine squealing.

“And now, Kif,” Zapp said as his Lieutenant cringed, “is when we wait.” Kif cringed again as the squealing reached a new level.

“Well what are you waiting for, soldier,” Zapp said, halting his stride, “get waiting!”

Kif sighed.

------------

Fry staggered around the kitchen, futilely rushing to assemble the ingredients of the breakfast he was supposed to prepare. Even though he was a few days in to his new ‘job,’ cooking was still not his forte, and the lack of sleep from the night before wasn’t helping him. By the time he and Rachel had the meal upstairs and served, they could tell that Leela and Clarice were beginning to lose their patience.

“Rob,” Leela said, “these eggs are cold, and this oatmeal is runnier than a jar of Flojomite.”

“I’m sorry, Laura, I’ll-”

“Oh, don’t bother,” Leela interrupted. “We’re both going to miss our rides to work if we stay any longer.” She downed her coffee and then grabbed a piece of toast on her way out the door.

------------

A crease of light appeared in the darkness, and turned into a searing rectangle. As his eyes recalibrated to the light, a miniskirted blob formed in the glow. It moved towards him, eventually settling by the table with his legs and hands on it.

“So,” Zapp said, “had enough?”

“Is this all you got?” Bender said, his disembodied head rocking from side to side between his mangled components. "I've paid to have worse things done to me!"

“I admit, our interrogation hasn't been very effective, not even the hard way,” Zapp said, casually toying with one of Bender’s arms, “so it looks like we’ll just have to do it the easy way.”

“Huh?” Bender said.

There was a click in the back of his neck as he felt a 25-pin connector being screwed on, and all returned to darkness.

------------

Fry stepped off the bus from work, a slight spring in his step for the first time since he left Earth. At work, his speech at the rally had turned him into a literal overnight celebrity. In fact he was the most popular person there, as far as he could tell from his coworkers’ silence, which by all accounts meant he was fitting in just fine. He walked up to the door of the building and went inside.

“Fry!”

Fry immediately recoiled against the inside of the front door, backing away from an obviously angry Leela.

“What was that?” Clarice said, walking into the hall from an adjacent room.

“Oh, uh, nothing,” Leela said, “I just needed Rob to come help me, uh, move something upstairs.” She turned to Fry and narrowed her eye. “Let’s get going, right Rob?”

Fry swallowed, nodded, and started up the stairs. Leela followed him and shuffled him into her room, locking the door behind them.

“What were you thinking?” Leela said. “You can’t just waltz in the front door! You have to use the servants’ entrance. Seriously, Fry, are you trying to blow our cover?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who blew the whole code name thing.”

“One: Those are still ridiculous names. Two: You surprised me. Now let’s move something around so she won’t suspect anything.”

Fry sighed exasperatedly, and grabbed the other side of her dresser.

[Reply #153 on:]

Holy crap. So you did go ahead and post it. You really can't sit on anything, can you!

Like the new bit, nice, it does help with the flow of it, but "formed from in the glow"?.. - is that what you intended there? I don't know, it somehow doesn't sound quite right.

To be more expansive, "searing rectangle" and "miniskirted blob" are both great descriptive snippets.
Plus what I said about the "fate"/"determination" fragments.

And okay, so you opted to go with "runnier than a jar of Flojomite"--sweet, that's pretty close to one of my suggestions.  Good original twist on it though.

All my copiatings to you generally leave me with not much to ever further elaborate on here, but you know my opinions.
Just a little.

[Reply #154 on:]

Hi SW glad to see you're writing, I have to drop away for now but look forward to catching up!

[Reply #155 on:]

Sweet update, sine.  You always manage to cram in the humor. 

[Reply #156 on:]

Phillip Fry: hero of the people! Workers rebellion resulting in statues of Fry holding AK-47's! I just assume this is what usually happens when people throw off the chains of oppression, they build statues of their leaders holding AK's. now by "lets move something" did Leela mean that in the traditional plural form, or more like the "by us I mean you" sense

Oh hey, its Nibblin... *casually whistle, slide towards large net* so whats new? eaten by whales yet? *grab net*

... what net?

GET HIM!

Having fun back in the desolate wasteland from whence Sarah Palin rose forth?!?

[Reply #157 on:]

Workers rebellion resulting in statues of Fry holding AK-47's!

Umm...Maybe if Palin were the one writing this...

Show spoiler

Also, I wonder if JN could see Russia from where he was.
Does he have foreign policy experience now?

[Reply #158 on:]

Birthday bump.


Chevro, about to lick its own eye.
Enjoy.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/guppiecat/1917962479

Didn't work as an image.

And for good measure, an actual pic:



Yeah, they're delectable.
Kinda like strawberry quark pancakes.

[Reply #159 on:]

Senseless question -> senseless bump.

This is a burning question I've had a while now.

What do you do when you meet arcsin? are you afraid he might one day catch you and explode you leaving nothing but insides?

I would be.