The Lurking Horror Chapter 1: The begining of the horror, a misc. games fanfic

Terminal Room

I waited until the last minute again. This time it's the end of the term,

so all the TechNet terminals in the dorm are occupied. So, off I went to the old

Comp Center. Too bad it's the worst storm of the winter (Murphy's Law, right?),

and I practically froze to death slogging over here from the dorm. Not to

mention jumping at every shadow, what with all the recent disappearances. Time

to find a free machine, get to work, and write that twenty page paper.

THE LURKING HORROR

An Interactive Horror

THE LURKING HORROR is a trademark of Infocom, Inc.

Release 221 / Serial number 870918

Terminal Room

This is a large room crammed with computer terminals, small computers, and

printers. An exit leads south. Banners, posters, and signs festoon the walls.

Most of the tables are covered with waste paper, old pizza boxes, and empty Coke

cans. There are usually a lot of people here, but tonight it's almost deserted.

A really whiz-bang pc is right inside the door.

Nearby is one of those ugly molded plastic chairs.

Sitting at a terminal is a hacker whom I recognize.

The hacker sits comfortably on an office chair facing a terminal table, or

perhaps it's just a pile of old listings as tall as a terminal table. He is

typing madly, using just two fingers, but achieves speeds that typists using all

ten fingers only dream of. He is apparently debugging a large assembly language

program, as the screen of his terminal looks like a spray of completely random

characters. The hacker is dressed in blue jeans, an old work shirt, and what

might once have been running shoes. Hanging from his belt is an enormous ring of

keys. He is in need of a bath.

(assignment)

Laser printed on creamy bond paper, the assignment is due tomorrow. It's from

your freshman course in "The Classics in the Modern Idiom," better known as

"21.014." It reads, in part: "Twenty pages on modern analogues of Xenophon's

'Anabasis.'" I'm not sure whether this refers to the movie "The Warriors" or

"Alien," but this is the last assignment I need to complete in this course

this term. I wonder, yet again, why a technical school requires me to endure

this sort of stuff.

I turned on the computer, it makes a quick self check and says "LOGIN PLEASE"

I type my login "872325412"

It now asks "PASSWORD PLEASE"

I type my password "Uhlersoth"

The computer responds "Good evening. You're here awfully late." It displays a

list of pending tasks, one of which is in blinking red letters, with large

arrows pointing to it. The task reads "Classics Paper," some particularly

ominous words next to it say "DUE TOMORROW!" and more reassuringly, a menu box

next to that reads "Edit Classics Paper."

I click edit

The menu box is replaced by the YAK text editor and menu boxes listing the

titles of my files. The one for my paper is highlighted in a rather urgent-

looking shade of red.

I clicked the box for my paper, and the box grows reassuringly until it fills

most of the screen. Unfortunately, the text that fills it bears no resemblance

to my paper. The title is the same, but after that, there is something

different, very different.

The paper appears to be a facsimile overlaid with occasional typescript. The

text is mostly in a sort of "Olde English" I've never seen before. What I

read is a combination of incomprehensible gibberish, latinate pseudowords,

debased Hebrew and Arabic scripts, and an occasional disquieting phrase in

English.

As I look at it more closely, I find it hard to focus on the screen, but

impossible to look away. my finger strays toward the "MORE" box...

I touched the MORE box, and a new page appears.

The second page is much like the first, but around the edges, not when I look

at it straight, it's almost readable. There is something about a "summoning," or

a "visitor."

I clicked the "MORE" box and read what appears.

The third page is in the same script as the first, but laid out like a poem.

There are woodcut illustrations which are queasily disturbing.

There is a translation, or notes for one, typed between the lines of the poem:

"He returns, he is called back (?)

The loyal ones (acolytes?) make a sacrifice

Those who survive will meet him (be absorbed? eaten?)

They will live, yet die

Forever will be (is?) nothing to them (to him?)

"His place (lair? burrow?) must be prepared

His food (offerings?) must be prepared

Call him forth (invite him?) with great power

Only an acceptable (tasteful?) sacrifice will call him forth

He will be grateful (satiated?)"

The rest is even more fragmentary.

Instead, I find my finger moving towards the MORE box, and touch it. The

screen feels oddly cold.

The fourth page is a photograph. I tried to recoil from the screen, but cannot.

Fascinated and repelled at the same time, I wonder: is that a mouth, and what

is in it?

Instead, I find my finger moving towards the MORE box, and touch it. The

screen feels oddly cold.

I fainted, and when I awoke...

This is a place. Things move about on a broken, rocky surface. Harsh sounds

split the air. Something sticky grabs at my feet. There is no color,

everything is drained of brightness, dull and lifeless. A path descends into a

shallow bowl of black basalt.

From below, a low noise begins, and slowly builds. I feel myself drawn

downward by the noise.

Basalt Bowl

I am at the bottom of a deeply cut, smooth basalt bowl. Dimly seen shapes

crowded me on all sides. Ahead, in the focus of the movement, is a rock platform.

I walked my way to the platform.

At Platform

I stood before a low rock platform, more like an afterthought of piled rocks

or a glacial moraine than a work of artifice. I am pushed against the pile by

the crowd around me.

One small stone stands out in the pile, smooth, shiny, and glowing with a

blazing light.

I took the stone.

Suddenly, the dimness becomes darkness, and the crowd around me explodes with

excitement. I am are jostled and shoved from all sides. A low keening begins,

building into a deafening, almost mechanical chant. The darkness before me

compacts and deepens.

I try to throw the stone.

I can't. I go through the motions, but the stone doesn't leave my hand.

The darkness before me, now visible, is a creature. It towers over the now-

silent crowd. The thing jerks this way and that, spraying a foul ichor. Its

palps twitch expectantly, then pound impatiently against the rock. I can feel

the smooth stone vibrating in my hand.

The thing now turns, sensing the presence of the stone. It quests almost blindly

for it, then those surrounding me thrust me forward. The thing stoops, its

mandibles grasping me. I are lifted towards its gaping maw. The stench and

the sounds issuing from it are overwhelming, and I fell unconscious.

I am awakened by the thump of my head hitting the terminal in front of me.

Falling asleep over term papers! It must have been a nightmare. Embarrassed, I

glanced around. Yes, the hacker is looking in my direction. He must have heard

the thump.

Terminal Room, on the chair

but then I realize I still have the stone.

I look at the computer again.

This is a beyond-state-of-the-art personal computer. It has a 1024 by 1024 pixel

color monitor, a mouse, an attached hard disk, and a local area network

connection. Fortunately, one of its features is a prominent HELP key. On the

screen I saw a menu box.

The hacker wanders over, trying to look nonchalant as he takes over my chair.

"Losing, huh?" he asks wittily. He glances at my terminal, which displays a

pattern of snow and unusual characters. He appears somewhat excited.

The hacker, mumbling under his breath, begins a flurry of activity. First the

screen returns to something nearly normal, then windows begin popping up like

toadstools after a rain. The screen looks a lot like the top of his terminal

table (or the bottom of a trash can).

The hacker types furiously, and the screen displays what to me looks like an

explosion in a teletype factory. After a while he says. "Chomping file system.

Your directory has gone seriously west. I fixed it." He checks the screen. "It

was mixed up on the file server with some files from the Department of Alchemy."

He grunts. "People's names for their nodes are getting weird. This one is called

'Lovecraft.'" He pauses. "Your paper is gone, though. Sorry. Maybe they could

help you down there."

The hacker wanders back to his terminal and returns to his hacking.

"Gee it sure is snowing hard," he mumbled, "I wish I could get some food, I'm starving."

I got up and went to the second floor.

Second Floor

This is the second floor of the Computer Center. An elevator and call buttons

are on the south side of the hallway. A large, noisy room is to the north.

Stairs also lead up and down, for the energetic. To the west a corridor leads

into a smaller room.

I went west, into the kitchen

Kitchen

This is a filthy kitchen. The exit is to the east. On the wall near a counter

are a refrigerator and a microwave.

Sitting on the kitchen counter is a package of Funny Bones.

Opening the refrigerator reveals a two liter bottle of Classic Coke and a

cardboard carton.

I take the Coke and the Carton, which has frozen Chinese food in it. I close the refrigerator and go to the counter. I open the microwave, set it on hi and set it for five minutes, I put the carton of Chinese food in it, close it, then start it. I munched on the greasy Funny Bones junk food, while waiting.