Reflections in Raindrops

It's October 10th, 2010.

10/10/10.

Now we just have to wait until 10:10:10 and watch the universe spew out a glorious pime taradox. XD

If this world makes any fragment of sense, then somewhere out there in the world there's a geneticist with a cat named Valine. Or Val for short.

So what do you get when you cross a Sandslash and a Miltank?

... Ground Beef.

THIS CANNOT BE MY DENSITY!

The giant-ass X-ACTO knife that the average EVA unit carries is called a "progressive knife". That is because this series progressively makes less and less sense. We would have made a pun about Occam's Razor here, but then Shinji would have probably attempted to cut himself with it, so we'll refrain.

This little story concept has been playing in my head for a few months now. Figured I might write it down.

It's a sci-fi-esque story set around a humanoid hexapodal race - not humanlike, just vaguely anthropomorphic - sporting an array of two arms, two legs, and two extra appendages. The race has three 'castes' or subspecies so to speak that differ in culture and stuff... and in the nature of their extra appendages.

I don't have fancy names for the casts yet, but the names I'll be using are literal translations of what their names mean:

The Winged Ones - artistic, creative, scientific, and value life over all else. Though they will fight if prompted to. Their secondary appendages are indeed wing type things and they are functional.

in sharp contrast, the Bladed Ones - A militaristic warrior society, run by generals, and they are intelligent and fierce. Their secondary appendages are rather intricate blade appendages that can sort of lash and attack at massive speeds.

and lastly, the Shielded Ones - extremely elusive, mostly keeping to themselves. Not very much involved with the other factions or other races. Their secondary appendages are large and rather heavy shield-like appendages.

These three factions are a product of many years of artificial selection - and while they cooperate and work together on many things - interbreeding between the three factions is a social taboo - though biologically POSSIBLE.

The storyline that's been running through my head for months starts with a rather high ranking Bladed One, a strategic liaison to the Winged Ones, who inexplicably ends up falling in love with a Winged One female. They kept their affair very secret, but eventually the winged one ended up pregnant, and, well... Let's just say that Winged One uterus-es are NOT designed for even partial bladed one babies. >>

She died giving birth to a daughter - which was born alive and well - buuuuuuuut yeah - it's a huge social taboo as I pointed out. SO, the OFFICIAL records say that she indeed died of childbirth complications, but that the child was a winged one and was stillborn. To make things easier for everyone. What they don't know can't hurt them.

But since the Winged Ones are all huge about the sanctity of life, they raise the child in hiding - and the father actually takes a very active role in raising his daughter. He's rather broken by his companion's death. But he raises his daughter - discretely of course. He's a strategic liaison to the winged ones so him being around them a lot is not suspicious.

And yeah. The girl grows up and turns out to be quite a strategical genius - smart enough to stay hidden, and yet takes after her father.

Of course it all has to go to hell, naturally, because yeah. Bladed One society is rather cutthroat - everyone's spying on everyone, particularly in positions of power, and if an opportunity to make political fortune on your rival warlord's back arises... Hell yes they'll grab it.

And indeed someone digs around and finds about the guy's daughter and exposes him.

... He's captured, stripped of rank and executed publically for treason, while his daughter is forced to watch. She manages to escape a similar fate because of her EPIC BLADE WINGS, and the Bladed Ones let her be (as in, do not pursue) because they figured that she's going to blame herself for the death of both her parents and, having no place to go (being a hybrid), she'd end up killing herself anyway.

........ However, as stated earlier, she's a brilliant strategical mind, and now it's /personal/. Soon enough she hatches one HELL of a daring plan.

After surviving for a while, she manages to convince a faction of Winged Ones which is very adept at genetic manipulation that she needs to have her genome resequenced to 'purify' it, so she could live a normal life. (I'm pretty sure she made up a sob story about how her mother was raped by a Bladed One and how her 'corrupted' blood makes her 'stained with violence'. End justifies the means, eh?)

They believe her - and she hands them a vial that she's been carrying with her containing her 'mother's DNA' as a basis for the resequencing. As it turns out though, she tricked them - the DNA sample she gave them to serve as a base was not a single-caste DNA patterns but a blend of all three castes - Bladed, Winged AND Shielded.

By the time they realize it it's too late - and she emerges a perfect synthesis of all three factions.

From that point on she makes it her life's goal to find more hybrids - because she knows more exist somewhere, they're just hard to find - and sympathizers to her cause, and transfiguring them into this sort of synthesis too - and basically challenging the caste system.

And yeah. She pretty much creates her own small private army - a new faction whose name translates to 'Exalted Ones' - that seek to bring down the current governments of all three castes and reforge the entire damn race in a way that will make sure that no one will ever suffer again because their parents happened to be of different castes - and eventually transfigure all three into one great unified race.

Naturally, this calls for quite a bit of negotiation and diplomacy, politics and the occasional act of terroris-errr I mean "freedom fighting", of course.

The existence of this new resistance movement is straining relationships between the three castes - as there are naturally a lot of people who want the status quo to remain - either because they're old fashioned or because they personally benefit from it...

Where will it end? Desu knows. That's all I have for now. @_@

Why does half of Biochemistry sound like Russian swearwords? Seriously, with stuff like Pyruvate, Succinate and Fumarate, one has got to wonder just what the flying Arceus were they thinking.

Also we have to remember far too many enzymes.

So it seems, anyway. It appears that things I generally find cute most people don't, and things most people find cute, I find terrifying. o_O

I guess that means there's something wrong with my definitions.

Oh well. That's life for you.

I just had the best idea ever.

I shall devise a new type of crispy baked good, with a piece of paper in its center that has some tired old copypasta meme written on it.

I think I'll call them 4chan cookies.

Badminton: A sport consisted entirely of people making a racket and flipping each other birds.

Canis Ex Machina: When the contrived plot device that saves the day is either canine in nature or a bitch to get. Literally: Dog From The Machine. (Note: Authors are advised to avoid Canis Ex Machina, as usually, the heroes are left barking up the wrong tree through the entire plot.)

A literal example of Canis Ex Machina: Dobermon from Digimon Tamers.

Internet Mathematics: No where else can anything can be both less than three and over nine thousand.

Pundora's Box: The exact phrase that will cause a torrent of particularly vicious puns.

An example of a Pundora's Box best left unopened:

El: Apparently, the 31st of July is national orgasm day. o.O
Me: To celebrate the coming summer months? <<
El: ... oh my god, stel xD
Me: And at the climax of the month too!
El: owww, stel xD
Me: When it's PARTICULARILY wet, humid and sticky. PERFECT timing.
El: i hate you xD
Me: Anytime before that would be premature... I bet you're WISHING you didn't open THAT Pundora's Box.

A Pundora's Box is likened to a toolbox: Once opened, the point will be hammered in to a new level - but if you know the drill then you probably saw this coming. If you don't, however, you're probably screwed.

... Well THAT was a whale of a pun. I krill myself sometimes, even if it's just a fluke...

... Speaking of marine mammals, let's seal this one now, shall we?

Reductio ad Felinum: The argument will go on until someone produces a cat. The inevitable step up from Reductio ad Hitlerum and Reductio Ad Triphallum (Which is similar in nature, but ends in the inevitable cry of 'Penispenispenis'.)

Stel's Law of Administration - The site creators do not make mistakes. The site creators are ineffable. Thou shalt worship the site creators, lest thou shalt be pelted with explosive mailboxen.

More to come when I feel like it.