Disclaimer: Don't own anything but this story.
MATRIX REVOLUTIONS - THE SCIENCE VERSION
It was a night of low illumination and lots of precipitation in the upper biosphere.
The architectural formations were filled with identical carbon-based lifeforms. On the road, two more similar lifeforms were standing, facing each other. One of them, Smith, opened his oral cavity and uttered some intelligent-sounding sounds. The other one, Neo, did the same after a period of time had passed, only his utterations were slightly less intelligent-sounding.
The weak gravitational force between these two bodies was equal to the product of their masses and the gravitational constant, divided by the square of their distance apart. Having a slightly larger mass, the gravitational field strength - derived by taking the product of the mass and the gravitational constant, then dividing that by the distance between the mass and the point at which the gravitational field strength is to be measured - exerted by Smith on Neo was slightly larger than that exerted by Neo on Smith.
The two units then started moving towards each other with increasing acceleration. They made contact with a force equal to the product of their masses and final acceleration, in accordance with Newton's Second Law. Taking into account the Principle of Conservation of Momentum, the sum of the products of Neo's mass and his initial speed, and Smith's mass and initial speed, was equivalent to the products of Neo's mass and his final speed, and Smith's mass and final speed.
Neo's fist came into contact with Smith's face at a velocity v. The force of this impact was equal to the change in velocity from v to zero divided by the time of contact, t. In return, Neo's fist was countered by an oppositely directed force of equal magnitude from Smith's face, as illustrated by Newton's Third Law.
If, for example, Smith had then chosen to swing Neo around by his hands, the centripetal accelaration experienced by Neo would be the product of his mass and the square of his linear velocity, divided by his height. Alternatively, this can also be expressed by the product of his mass, height, and the square of his angular velocity. If his angular velocity remains constant, his kinetic energy brought about by the spinning would remain constant, but his linear velocity and momentum would vary.
If, as is likely, the spinning causes Neo to throw up, this would cause Smith to drop him and result in Neo's vomit embarking on a parabolic path into the air. The horizontal velocity of his vomit would remain constant throughout its short journey to the ground, but the vertical velocity will experience a deceleration of -9.81 metres per second, brought about by the force of Earth's gravity. At the highest point, vertical velocity would be zero, whereupon the vomit will start to fall to the ground with accelaration g of 9.81 metres per second.
Upon hitting the ground, the vomit will possibly spatter all over Smith's nice shoes but it doesn't matter because the rain will just wash it away.
XXX
The Kenselton Hotel
The cornflakes guy liked cornflakes; that much went without saying. That was, in itself, nothing spectacular - after all, quite a lot of people, excluding the author, like cornflakes. But for the cornflakes guy - or Corny, as he had come to be affectionately known, cornflakes were more than just a favourite breakfast cereal; they were an integral part of his life.
He didn't know when his life had begun. It was as though he had always lived in the rooms. There was the big room, which had a long dinner table lined with chairs, where he ate his cornflakes, and then there was the small bedroom of his that had just a bed, a desk, and a cupboard. It was connected to the bathroom which had a toilet, sink and bathtub, and next to that was the huge non-house-warehouse filled with cornflakes, packet milk, and other neccessities. It was from the cornflakes that he gained his nourishment and purpose of life.
It may not have been a fun existence, but he had been content. Many were the days he had spent just sitting on his white-sheeted bed in the absolute silence of his room, just being alive and nothing more.
But then... then just several hours ago strange things had happened, and he had been mysteriously transported out of his room and into a strange scary place he had never seen before, where suddenly he wasn't the only living thing around any more. Someone had put something around his wrist, dumped a keycard into his hands, and shooed him, lost and utterly bewildered, off to the fourth floor where he'd finally had a nervous breakdown in the corridor.
The guy-who-probably-isn't-called-Tim-but-who-cares-oi-people-give-me-a-better-name-before-this-sticks had found him curled up by the wall, whimpering softly.
"Hey," Tim had asked. "You're new here?"
Corny hadn't answered, not understanding the unfamiliar sounds.
"You'll get used to this place after a while, don't worry. C'mon." Tim had helped him off the ground and taken him under his care, looking after Corny whenever he wasn't too busy quaffing stolen rum.
There had been cornflakes in the storage room. Corny had noticed with delight the familiar packaging, and had decided that perhaps this place couldn't be that bad after all.
That is, until people kept trying to take his cornflakes bowl away from him, intending to deprive him of the sole object that gave him comfort here.
Tim once again offered him some rum to go with his cornflakes, and the cornflakes guy finally accepted the offer. He held out his spoon and watched as Tim poured some rum into it. Corny cautiously put the rum-filled spoon into his mouth, drank the rum, and his eyes lit up. He smiled, got off his chair, and did a happy dance just as the door opened and John walked in looking for a weapon.
John Constantine does not like happy dances.
He likes them even less when they are danced by people who look like him.
John gave Corny a questionning look, took his cigarette out of his mouth, and flicked ash into the cornflakes bowl.
Happy dance suddenly cut short, Corny stared in stupefaction at the bits of black ash floating in the milk. Tim mentally swore as tears once again started making their way down Corny's face.
John couldn't find a gun. He settled instead for a lightsaber which someone had stolen from another floor. He activated it and waved it around a little.
"Look after him," Tim told the recently-entered Ted, pointing at Corny and taking the contaminated cornflakes bowl to the sink. He emptied its contents into the trash, glared at John, washed the bowl, poured some cornflakes in, glared at John, added milk, glared at John, nearly got sliced up by the lightsaber, and returned the new bowl to Corny.
Satisfied with his new weapon, John left the room, ignoring everyone.
Meanwhile upstairs, Luke Skywalker was searching desperately for his most prized possession. "Have you seen my lightsaber?" he asked, meeting Han Solo in the corridor .
"The Keanu-spawn took it," Han informed him.
"And nobody stopped them?" Luke asked incredulously.
"Apparently they know kung-fu."
"Not all of them!"
"Why take the risk?" Han asked, then bolted off as Indiana Jones came running down the corridor loudly demanding his hat back.
TO BE CONTINUED.
Give me ideas for more versions! Or whether to scrap that altogether and concentrate more on the end-story thing.
Exams in six days. Argh.
On the wrist tag numbers... Firstly, they aren't codes of any sort, but serial numbers. Secondly, you'll need to be on the Internet. It's a pretty obvious, in-front-of-your-face kind of thing, and thus easy to not notice. And when you find it out, you'll know for sure that you've got it right.
...My English seems to be dying for some reason.
