Enter: A spherical room of eyes, stomachs, membranous walls, and appendages, always misshapen, always reaching across the room to the other side.
The man inside heard a seal and a lock. Looks like he would be here for the duration. "So this is where they put the players that don't make the playoffs. I guess I shouldn't have been injured, heh, heh, heh." He had better make the most of it, he supposes. Two months will fly by when you are busy! The stench of organs and dead flesh and meaning would have been overwhelming, but the man in question is a man of indisputable military discipline. After a few minutes the man had started a fire on some stalagmite-shaped tonsil twitching nervously. After a few hours his experiments began. After a while of the man and his business, he had settled things down.
Two months pass when you are busy, indeed. "The finals are over! You can all come out now!" David Stern's voice had been transmitted to the manifold rooms of the unsuccessful Spurs. Many of them had been psychologically broken merely by the months of solitude, even excluding the special horrors of their chambers. Each Spur in his room claimed his room and experiences were the most extreme. Despite these claims, David Robinson's room, the flesh sphere, had in fact been the worst. The chambers opened to reveal some unneeded therapists and a certain friend of Mr. Robinson.
As David knew, Pop would be the first to greet him. The Admiral was not smiling or emotive when he left the chamber. But indifference is a latent smile for David Robinson, and inaction is just a latent act of charity.
"You got Duncan, right?"
"Of course I did, David. We can go back to the Spurs family now. Dennis Rodman is out."
Robinson smiled a smile so broad they saw it in Phoenix.
"We've always made the best of our situations."
Pop and his new companion departed from the chambers to introduce the Two Towers for the first time. It was a good day.
Enter: A spherical room of equations, water, algae, and soft hands of gentle women, always endearing, always reaching across the room to satisfy a desire for happy companionship on the other side. The terraforming of this room was replete, and a place better than Earth had been created and could be arbitrarily expanded to create a utopia here on earth, if a traveler to this chamber had even a passing interest to do so. Robinson's love and charity seemed to have been absorbed into his former prison, though he himself could never know the full depth of this influence.
But news travels fast in the pros and, at the commissioner's request, a prison in Santa Fe burned to the ground silently.
The man inside heard a seal and a lock. Looks like he would be here for the duration. "So this is where they put the players that don't make the playoffs. I guess I shouldn't have been injured, heh, heh, heh." He had better make the most of it, he supposes. Two months will fly by when you are busy! The stench of organs and dead flesh and meaning would have been overwhelming, but the man in question is a man of indisputable military discipline. After a few minutes the man had started a fire on some stalagmite-shaped tonsil twitching nervously. After a few hours his experiments began. After a while of the man and his business, he had settled things down.
Two months pass when you are busy, indeed. "The finals are over! You can all come out now!" David Stern's voice had been transmitted to the manifold rooms of the unsuccessful Spurs. Many of them had been psychologically broken merely by the months of solitude, even excluding the special horrors of their chambers. Each Spur in his room claimed his room and experiences were the most extreme. Despite these claims, David Robinson's room, the flesh sphere, had in fact been the worst. The chambers opened to reveal some unneeded therapists and a certain friend of Mr. Robinson.
As David knew, Pop would be the first to greet him. The Admiral was not smiling or emotive when he left the chamber. But indifference is a latent smile for David Robinson, and inaction is just a latent act of charity.
"You got Duncan, right?"
"Of course I did, David. We can go back to the Spurs family now. Dennis Rodman is out."
Robinson smiled a smile so broad they saw it in Phoenix.
"We've always made the best of our situations."
Pop and his new companion departed from the chambers to introduce the Two Towers for the first time. It was a good day.
Enter: A spherical room of equations, water, algae, and soft hands of gentle women, always endearing, always reaching across the room to satisfy a desire for happy companionship on the other side. The terraforming of this room was replete, and a place better than Earth had been created and could be arbitrarily expanded to create a utopia here on earth, if a traveler to this chamber had even a passing interest to do so. Robinson's love and charity seemed to have been absorbed into his former prison, though he himself could never know the full depth of this influence.
But news travels fast in the pros and, at the commissioner's request, a prison in Santa Fe burned to the ground silently.
This is solid, definitely one of the stranger successful pieces I did. If this has a flaw (as of course it does), it's that it's so weird that even as a readable, literary description it's really unpalatable and disgusting in places. It doesn't have enough respect for the reader, in other words. So...sorry about that!
ReplyDeleteStill this is a kind of extended metaphor for the blog at large - David Robinson taking the Lovecraftian basketball blog and making it sincere and productive. I hope the blog never gets burnt down!
ReplyDelete