disclaimer: Marvin and all other aspects of the HHGttG belong to Douglas
Adams (may he rest in peace). Storyline is all my doing, in an attempt at
the style of said corpse.
god of erg-27: Yeah, this is totally my first entry, so be nice, leave a
review, and while I appreciate constructive criticism, I have my pride.
transposition gremlin: Why would anybody read this crap? You're being
totally unrealistic if you think that anybody would take time out of their
day to read your work and then leave constructive comments.
god of erg-27: ..........
god of erg-27: Remarks like that make me wonder why you're my muse, dude.
transposition gremlin: And another thing, why is your penname "god of erg-
27?" You're an atheist! And what's erg-27?
god of erg-27: I should think that would be painfully obvious. Now shut
up, and let me get on with the story.
on a desolate planet, sometime in the near future
Marvin trudged along the surface of the planet, griping as he went. Earlier that week a meteor had plunged through the thin atmosphere of the planet, and buried itself directly into Marvin's data banks. He was practically unscathed, aside from the dime-sized hole in his head. Not to mention the fact that a small portion of largely unused memory space had been demolished. Luckily, there was so far only one unit of data there. Marvin now had no idea where he was, why he was there, or how he got there. This changed very little.
"Life! Don't talk to me about life," sighed Marvin to no-one in particular, because there was no-one to sigh to. Here he was, with a brain the size of the wretched planet he was stuck on, and he had been reduced to talking to himself.
He fell over, and buried his face in the dust. This was a particularly effective way of being wretched.
As he lay contemplating his position in the universe, and the chances of him being discovered, he suddenly had a burst of optimism, the first he had experienced in a very great deal of time. At the current rate of galactic progress, and at and exponential increase in space travel, he would be found in approximately 3.4 million years. Just another quick 3.4 million. Just him, and his thoughts, and the millennia fly by like a Kardaxian Ultra-hawk.
Don't Panic!
Excerpt from the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy: the Kardaxian ultra- hawk is a small, flightless bird of prey. They are particularly badly suited for their mountainous environment. They hunt down their rodent prey by running along the cliff faces on their scrawny legs. They are currently an endangered species, but the logic of this has been often called into question. The few resources that they are able to consume are wasted on them. They are of no use to anybody, and will die of despair if not constantly in the company of others.
And, back to Marvin
Marvin thought long and hard about life, the universe, and everything. He knew what the answer was, of course. By this time the number 42 was common knowledge, and almost everyone had heard of it. He himself found the pursuit of the question quite pointless. Knowing wouldn't change anything. It seemed quite dangerous, really. To know both the question and the answer to anything can be enough to destroy a person. Good riddance, that kind of curiosity is only fit for philosophers, who should be rounded all up and shot.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. It was obvious when you thought about it. Then, for the first time in his long existence, he smiled. he knew what was coming next.
Then, the universe ended.
god of erg-27: So? wadaya think? transposition gremlin: Kinda short, don't you think? god of erg-27: SILENCE!! I am a concise writer! transposition gremlin: Fair enough, but don't you think you're cheating your fans out of a few plot devices? god of erg-27: What fans? This is my first submission. transposition gremlin: That doesn't matter, my point is, you've got a lot of good ideas floating around in there, you should take more time to get them out! god of erg-27: See, that's why i hired you to be my muse. god of erg-27: I feel that too many authors base their assessment of quality based on volume. I say exactly what i want in relatively few words. See, so many best selling authors sell big, thick books that are full of Stuff. People don't care about Stuff. All the really good authors like Mark Twain, Isaac Asimov, or Doug Adams (yay!) use the words that they want and the words are all interdependent, and that make their books really interesting. Now, I wouldn't dare compare myself to any of those giants, but that's what I'm aiming for. transposition gremlin: Feh.
on a desolate planet, sometime in the near future
Marvin trudged along the surface of the planet, griping as he went. Earlier that week a meteor had plunged through the thin atmosphere of the planet, and buried itself directly into Marvin's data banks. He was practically unscathed, aside from the dime-sized hole in his head. Not to mention the fact that a small portion of largely unused memory space had been demolished. Luckily, there was so far only one unit of data there. Marvin now had no idea where he was, why he was there, or how he got there. This changed very little.
"Life! Don't talk to me about life," sighed Marvin to no-one in particular, because there was no-one to sigh to. Here he was, with a brain the size of the wretched planet he was stuck on, and he had been reduced to talking to himself.
He fell over, and buried his face in the dust. This was a particularly effective way of being wretched.
As he lay contemplating his position in the universe, and the chances of him being discovered, he suddenly had a burst of optimism, the first he had experienced in a very great deal of time. At the current rate of galactic progress, and at and exponential increase in space travel, he would be found in approximately 3.4 million years. Just another quick 3.4 million. Just him, and his thoughts, and the millennia fly by like a Kardaxian Ultra-hawk.
Don't Panic!
Excerpt from the Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy: the Kardaxian ultra- hawk is a small, flightless bird of prey. They are particularly badly suited for their mountainous environment. They hunt down their rodent prey by running along the cliff faces on their scrawny legs. They are currently an endangered species, but the logic of this has been often called into question. The few resources that they are able to consume are wasted on them. They are of no use to anybody, and will die of despair if not constantly in the company of others.
And, back to Marvin
Marvin thought long and hard about life, the universe, and everything. He knew what the answer was, of course. By this time the number 42 was common knowledge, and almost everyone had heard of it. He himself found the pursuit of the question quite pointless. Knowing wouldn't change anything. It seemed quite dangerous, really. To know both the question and the answer to anything can be enough to destroy a person. Good riddance, that kind of curiosity is only fit for philosophers, who should be rounded all up and shot.
Suddenly, a thought occurred to him. It was obvious when you thought about it. Then, for the first time in his long existence, he smiled. he knew what was coming next.
Then, the universe ended.
god of erg-27: So? wadaya think? transposition gremlin: Kinda short, don't you think? god of erg-27: SILENCE!! I am a concise writer! transposition gremlin: Fair enough, but don't you think you're cheating your fans out of a few plot devices? god of erg-27: What fans? This is my first submission. transposition gremlin: That doesn't matter, my point is, you've got a lot of good ideas floating around in there, you should take more time to get them out! god of erg-27: See, that's why i hired you to be my muse. god of erg-27: I feel that too many authors base their assessment of quality based on volume. I say exactly what i want in relatively few words. See, so many best selling authors sell big, thick books that are full of Stuff. People don't care about Stuff. All the really good authors like Mark Twain, Isaac Asimov, or Doug Adams (yay!) use the words that they want and the words are all interdependent, and that make their books really interesting. Now, I wouldn't dare compare myself to any of those giants, but that's what I'm aiming for. transposition gremlin: Feh.