Velox

Finally saw Man of Steel. ^^

Polling period over; topic closed.

Polling period over; topic closed.

Polling period over; topic closed.

Yessssss, the Jurassic Park/Lost World one is fantastic--I picked it up a few months ago when I finally decided to read JP for the first time. But seriously, they really must come out with a LOTR! It'll be amazing. I'm also hoping for Les Miserables, among others. Totally agreed on "pretty much everything else", haha. I really hope to get them all some day, that'd be awesome. Which reminds me! @ Ben, I also bought the American Gods/Anansi Boys leatherbound book a little while back, and plan to read it soon. You (and others) have kept recommending Neil Gaiman (and American Gods particularly) to me, so I'm really looking forward to it. Pffft, 'cause you're totally supposed to judge a book by its cover, Jason. c; (but at least in my case, I just love the look/feel/etc. of books, and so owning editions that I particularly nice is just awesome, and sometimes a must [like having the same editions for a whole series, etc.]. Plus, I do genuinely like reading hardbacks (or larger paperbacks) a lot better than the pocket-size paperbacks, so in my case it actually does matter. =P) And Nooks are cool (I've got one myself), but there's just something about a real book...to hold one in your hands, to display them on your shelves... (yes I'm obsessed with books but you know this already. =P)

Overall I definitely far prefer hardbacks, for various reasons, most of which people already mentioned. I don't buy full price hardback books very often, mostly because they are more expensive (and I have no job currently =P), but also because I've got some awesome used bookstores near me that sell hardbacks for extremely cheap but in great condition. At the same time, though, I don't buy full priced paperbacks very often, either. =P If I buy a brand new book for whatever reason, it is usually hardback if I have enough money. I also don't really like reading the normal-sized paperbacks that much. I don't know why, but there's something about a hardback/bigger paperback that I just enjoy more. The one exception to me is actually the Song of Ice and Fire series, as I purchased the first book at Target (paperback). It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing, but since I bought it new, I got a little OCD, so I wanted to buy all of ASoIaF new, and the same size paperbacks. =P I also just started reading the series this year, so I don't have too long to wait before DwD comes out in paperback (assuming they don't push it back again ). But usually that problem doesn't happen, because usually (especially for a full series) I just buy used copies (preferably hardback, but I'll get either), so it doesn't matter. But yeah, I definitely prefer having hardbacks, and I definitely prefer having the whole series matching. I've bought doubles occasionally (when they're cheap) just so I can get the same size/style book for a whole series. =P Still waiting for the day when I become a millionaire so I can buy every book in leather-bound hardback. =P (because those are the best. B&N Leatherbound Collectible Series ftw)

Important note: If you entered all 10 themes, please PM me! Otherwise you will not get your extra prize. Also, don't forget to vote in the polls! The final polls will be up once the current polls end, so keep checking back!

And the polls have been posted, thus concluding the contest. It's been great, everyone, and I'm glad you enjoyed it! Don't forget to vote in the preliminary polls and final polls! Also, important note: If you entered all 10 themes, please PM me! Otherwise you will not get your extra prize.

Vote here for your favorite Art-to-Fiction story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 9th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to Art-to-Fiction Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll. Choice #1: "The Flower-Ship" Flower-Ships are native fauna of the planet Vogrius. Xenoarchaeologists commonly considered them to represent the zenith of the ancient Vogrians' work in the field of botanotechnology. Though all intelligent life on the planet was long extinct, their creations lived on, blooming amidst the ruins of their civilizations.No human scientists professed to understand the science behind the making of the Flower-Ships, though many human pilots had successfully controlled them. They began simply as buds growing out of the forest floor. As they grew, however, the buds developed into massive green spheres, and finally, the outer cover fell away, revealing the sleek one-man craft within. Each ship held one humanoid pilot, and though their controls were alien, there appeared to be a telepathic component to flying them which made the feat not only possible but in some ways intuitive. They were said to be the greatest individual spacecraft known to humanity. People hunted for them for many different reasons. Some were professionals, spending their lives obtaining rare goods like the Flower-Ships for the price they could get at auction. Some were hired teams, for men who wanted ships and were rich enough to get others to do the work for them. Some, like Charles Alcock, just wanted to fly.The legends concerning the Flower-Ships had fascinated the young space pilot since childhood. What's more, if he was lucky enough to actually find one, he would finally possess a ship of his very own at no more expense than his ticket to Vogrius. Interstellar law stated that any man who found a Flower-Ship and severed its stem became the owner, unless he had previously signed away his rights. So Charles, along with a ship full of fellow prospectors, had flown to Vogrius. He was now in his third week of hunting. He had found two already, but they hadn't suited him. Stories said once you had picked a Flower-Ship and flown in it, ship and pilot were inseparably bound together. He wanted no regrets when he had his ship. So he pushed on through the Vogrian jungle, searching for any sign of another ship. Was that a flash of color to the left? He turned, pushed his way forward a few more steps...and stopped dead. Before him was one of the small clearings left by an eroded bud-shield. The remaining green ribs arched inward around the edge, and in the center sat his ship.As soon as he saw this one, he knew it was his. Slim and curving, the gleaming surface seemed to be primarily orange with purple highlights, although the way the colors blended into each other made it hard to reach a definite conclusion, and its upper surfaces were covered in lighter-toned foliage patterns. A shaft of light struck the ship from above, making it almost glow in the pale sunlight, and all Charles Alcock could think as he looked at it was,She's beautiful. He ran one finger along a smooth curve. "Hello, flower," he said, smiling. "We've got some flying to do." ----------------------------------- Choice #2: "Terra Atmo Resto" With the attentive and delicate care of a mother, I gently tucked the earth over the head-sized nut. My little seed, who would soon sprout and undoubtedly outgrow me before long. Eventually the tree would stand over one thousand feet. That is, if it survived. I stepped back and surveyed the desolate red landscape. "I don't know, Mom," I said through the vocal transistors of my planetary atmospheric life-suit. "How is he going to survive in this wasteland?" * * * The memory faded, to be replaced by the starry vista outside my window in the family cruiserhome. If I craned my neck, I could just make out the red planet we were approaching. Nublar-6, the planet that my father had bought for the family many years ago. Or rather, he had bought a part of it. The Zarrulian government was selling land on the planet, recently purchased from a neighboring intergalactic nation. The resources and finances of that nation were running low, and they found themselves unable to apply the proper terra atmo resto (sorry, the lingo, it means "terrain and atmosphere restoration") process to this planet. Ten years ago we had come here to plant some vegetation, biologically engineered specifically for this planet's climate. We did this in several locations, and if all has gone well we should find some expansive pastures when we arrive. Once the atmosphere is finished being prepared (it nearly was now) we would be moving here permanently so we could better help develop the ecosystem. We would introduce some animals, herbivores and later predators, and try to keep the growing ecology in balance. Being only eighteen and not the smartest girl around, I don't fully understand the process myself, but that's the basic idea. My dad's something of a genius and he understands it all perfectly. But more than anything, in regard to this particular visit anyway, I was excited to see the tree I had planted back when I was just eight years old. If all went well, and I hoped with all my heart that it had, my tree should have sprouted and it should already be a good three dozen or so feet high. Most of our vegetation had been planted in large groups, but my father had let me pick out one special location for my own seed. "Buckle in, everyone," my father's voice commanded over the intercom. "We're nearing the atmosphere now." The family strapped in, each to their own seat in the cruiserhome. Altogether there were about twenty-five of us, although it was mostly extended relatives. We would be the first settlers in our part of the planet, but more would undoubtedly follow. Soon we were jostling through the atmosphere. We passed through a cloud, and I gasped. Those hadn't been around the last time, not that I could remember. The atmosphere restoration was coming along well. Soon we passed over our pastures, and were delighted to find many miles of fields and forests. They surpassed our expectations. My father had promised that we would visit my tree before arriving at the homestead, though not for long. I closed my eyes as we neared it. I didn't want to see it until we landed. * * * I hurriedly put on my atmospheric suit (which would not be necessary for much longer) and raced out as soon as the airlocks were open. And there it was. My tree. It must have been forty feet high! And to my surprise, he was surrounded by a dozen or so shorter trees. It took me a moment, but I soon realized that my tree was a parent! I can't describe the happiness I felt then. I now owned my own little forest. My father was surprised, too. My biologically engineered tree wasn't supposed to have borne any seeds yet, and certainly not these trees reaching up to about twenty feet. "Even in this age," he said, "I guess there's no full accounting for nature." He let me stay a little longer, and I wandered within the small forest, crossing over the leaf-strewn floor. Already a soil was forming. At the foot of my original tree I found myself in a small forest clearing, with him watching over as the maternal guardian that he was. It was a nice snug spot covered in moss and lichen. Between two of his big roots, a small head-sized nut was nestled, like an egg in its nest. I was so happy I cried. ----------------------------------- Choice #3: "Search for Atlantis" Rory entered the underwater cave. It was not a safe place to be; there were sharp rocks that could tear through his wetsuit with ease, and potentially damage his oxygen tank. One little mistake could be fatal. Rory was not alone; he was diving with his partner Dave. Dave was a thrill seeker; he liked to challenge himself by pushing his body to its limit. But they were not here for an adrenaline rush; they were searching for something. The surface world, as Rory called it, was a mess. There was war, famine, poverty, and corruption everywhere. That world sickened Rory. He wanted to find someplace new, someplace with peace and tranquility. And that’s when he heard of Atlantis. Atlantis was supposedly an ancient kingdom with technology well ahead of its time. They had prospered for hundreds of years, but then the kingdom had vanished without a trace. Some legends said that it was sunk during a natural disaster, while others hinted that a rival kingdom destroyed it. But others claimed that Atlantis got fed up with the outside world, and they broke off contact and hid away. If this was true, then perhaps Rory could locate and visit Atlantis. At the very least, they might have a way to help deal with the horrors of the surface world. Over their underwater intercoms, Dave said, “The cave drops downwards up ahead, so that’s promising. I’ll take the lead.” Rory followed his partner. Dave was less concerned about the world than he was, but Rory needed his friend’s expertise in scuba diving to help him on his search. Atlantis was not an easy place to locate. It had been lost for centuries, and few sources offered any reliable clues as to where it was hiding. Using these and undersea charts, Rory had selected a few areas to explore. The two were currently on their third trip, in the southern Mediterranean Sea. Upon diving down, they had discovered a series of underwater caverns, and they were exploring them to see if one led anywhere. The two dropped down through a shaft, and reached yet another level of tunnels. They were narrower now, but Dave used his lantern to illuminate the way. The light gleamed off the white rocks that formed the cave walls. “There’s something up ahead,” Dave said suddenly. “What is it?” Rory followed his partner’s gaze. Crimson tendrils lay adrift on the stone floor. They shifted eerily in the lantern’s light. Rory swam closer to inspect it. “It seems to be some deceased creature, perhaps a sort of Cephalopod.” He reached forward to touch it, but it sudden moved back. “Wait, it’s not dead at all!” Something rose from the dust that had settled on the cavern’s floor, and Rory and Dave suddenly came face to face with a giant octopus. Before Rory could swim back, one of its arms reached out and wrapped around his body. “Rory, look out!” Dave shouted through the intercom. He drew a diving knife and swam forward. He sliced at the octopus’s skin, but his cuts were too shallow and didn’t appear to hurt the sea beast. Instead, the octopus wrapped another one of its arms around Dave. “This is bad!” Dave shouted, as the octopus began to squeeze. “If we don’t get free, it’ll break our oxygen tanks! Rory, try stabbing it in the eye, since you’re closer!” Rory tried to move, but he was now immobilized by the octopus. Dimly, he wondered if this was how it was all going to end. He couldn’t escape from the pain and suffering on the surface after all. But then another thought came to mind. He was invading this creature’s territory, and had started the fight by surprising it. No wonder it retaliated. No, Rory deserved what he was getting, and he ceased to struggle. But to his surprise, that caused the octopus to release him. Struck by this revelation, Rory called to Dave, “Stop struggling, that’s what’s getting it riled up.” Having no other choice, Dave quit his thrashing, and soon the octopus released him too. And then the Cephalopod slipped away into another dark corner of the cave. “How did you. . .” Dave started. “Just call it a hunch,” Rory said. “Like maybe it was a challenge, to make sure the violent and foolhardy wouldn’t continue forward.” “A challenge? Do you think Atlantis is near by?” “Well, it won’t hurt to check,” Rory said, and he pushed forward. ----------------------------------- Choice #4: "Unfocused" What is this piece of junk supposed to be? It’s an abstract spaceship Doesn’t look like a spaceship well that’s ‘cause it’s abstract, you see What’s the blue stuff? It’s aliens, he keeps asking aliens? I say aliens. Why aliens? Well they ride spaceships Most of this canvas is blue, is everything aliens? Yes This is garbage nobody is going to buy it he says Sigh I was worried he’d say that ‘S Only the truth I’ll try again I guess. Don’t limit yourself to spaceships, try a pony or something that seems to be popular I’ll…give that some thought? I’ll be leaving. You work on something else Right. Bye. Sigh. This painting is terrible. I should go burn it outside. Maybe after I drink my coffee… Man that was not a good idea. The neighbor got all up in my case again about burning paintings and what’s that smell and why are you even using arsenic paint and just Geez That guy needs to calm down. I didn’t even step on his Chihuahua this time, or drop searing hot coffee on it either. Also I’m only burning one painting, not that he wasn’t exaggerating on last month’s bonfire but seriously just Jeez So I guess I have to do something else now but god I am tired. I need another coffee. I shouldn’t have burned that painting, such a moron. Should’ve tried to sell it anyways or painted over it Just Ugh Guess I need to do something else. Another spaceship? I guess I could try but doesn’t sound that fun He mentioned something about ponies I should look that up on the internet God I hate going outside. Is too bad I dropped my coffee on the modem, not that I can afford the internet right now but you know convenience. Internet café what a freaking joke who even goes to these things anymore Other than me I guess but I got an excuse What are these hacks doing here Such hacks Guess I’m going to buy some time now and also some coffee Okay so ponies look up ponies and And And Holy Mother Of What Oh god oh god oh god What the #### is this I’m just JEEZ What is wrong with people Just GOD Oh? No I wasn’t looking at that stuff. No you definitely didn’t see me sir you must have been mistaken I was just looking up…salad! What do you mean I’m banned from coming here again I wasn’t even doing anything this is just such communism Stop At least let me keep the coffee I paid for it with money Back at home, just so tired. I need more coffee. Agh this isn’t working. I’m going to bed. Oh great I forgot I also dropped coffee on the bed I drop coffee on everything so clumsy (Maybe I should start drawing with coffee?) Argh. Good night. Dreaming like a baby dreaming like a baby, there’s a race track in my brain and there’s no stoppin’ me Woo Coffee waterfall! Don’t I drink too much coffee? Haha so silly you can’t drink too much coffee Is a medicine or something Wee Huh Where am I Where is the coffee Why is everything dark Is this a nightmare Are the ponies gonna show up Please don’t be ponies Oh okay the lights are coming back up This is some creepy aura I’m getting from this place what are these Lightning trees And okay then there comes a spaceship That’s a nice shade of purplredrange. What a weirdly abstract scene of lightning trees and a purplredrange spaceship. I should plagiarize this. He’s asking if I plagiarized this spaceship I say of course I did don’t be a cool dude He’s like why did you call me a cool dude I’m just saying What are you even saying Where did I get it it’s just from my sexy subconscious, you tool Hey don’t get feisty now (I don’t even know what that word means) Anyways he says I can sell this No duh It came from my subconscious that stuff is downright sexy. -----------------------------------

Vote here for your favorite Art-to-Fiction story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 9th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to Art-to-Fiction Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll. Choice #1: "Hunt" I'm running. Harder than I ever have, and hopefully harder than I ever will. The human body really is amazing, isn't it? When it comes to impressing girls, it'll lock up and prevent you from moving even a few steps. But when it's a matter of life and death, suddenly you become your own little Superman. You run faster, jump higher. Sadly, though, there usually aren't any girls to impress in these moments. Like right now. I'm running, but I'm all alone. Or rather, without companions. Because try as I might, I won't be alone, not until I leave this jungle. My hunter's still stalking me, playing this real life version of The Most Dangerous Game. He's Zaroff, I'm Rainsford. He's got the advantage, I have nothing but my own wits. And a human body. “Oh, Mr. Lancaster? Dear Mr. Lancaster, where are you?” At least he doesn't have his hounds. I've never been very athletic, so really, the above comparison wasn't too accurate. I've never hunted, let alone been hunted. I have no clue about how to make traps, how to obtain food, and so on. I don't stand a chance. This won't end with me sleeping in the best bed I've ever slept in, unless one counts a crude grave as “the best bed one can ever sleep in.” I run deeper into the jungle. It's dark, all of the Sun's light being blocked off by the canopy above. I can barely see. All I can make out are the tree trunks ahead. My body's losing power. Even Superman goes down after a while. Getting tired. Can't run. Need...to..slow down. I collapse. It's over, I can't go on. My captor has me. Except he doesn't. I hear no sound. But I do notice something. A glint of light up ahead. Could it be him with a flashlight? I wait, lowering the sound of my breathing as I do so. My chest hurts, my lungs feel punctured. But this is life or death, and I can't lose. The light doesn't move. It's a set source. Could it be salvation? It's either try or die in this situation. I vote try. After five minutes, I pick myself up and walk towards the light into a lush, green meadow. The trees decided to let light shine through in this area, and for the better. The circular area is skirted by beautiful trees, their leaves turning the light into a dazzling lightning green. There's the outlying darkness, but it contrasts so well with the green that it adds to the picture. And in the middle of it all is something beautiful: a large plant, red and laced with white flowers. It beckons to me. It calls to me. Come, rest, take a break. He'll never find you here. You deserve this. My body's too tired to let my resolve control it. Without any hint of doubt, I walk over and plop down into the plant's cushiony, sofa-y middle. Then it begins. The petals rise up and trap me inside. I struggle to get out, but to no avail; I'm trapped. Stuck. Liquid starts rising, smelling terrible. Some form of digestive juice. Years of science have taught me that. But they didn't teach me to watch out for suspiciously placed plants. “Oh, Mr. Lancaster. I expected better of a highly regarded scientist. You almost gave me a good hunt. Almost. Alas, it's sad it ended this way. Good bye.” I'll never sleep in the best of beds. Unless if a plant's belly is the best of beds. Granted, it is pretty soft. -------------------------------------- Choice #2: "God's Garden" Beautiful trees and flowers towered above me; colossal beings that inspired both awe and a little bit of fear. Such was the case with all things in this garden, because this wasn’t just any ordinary garden, this was the Garden of God. All around me I could see Angelic Beings, hard at work, cultivating these gargantuan beings. It was marvelous seeing them at work, seeing them take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. Never in my life had I seen such sheer beauty, such sheer magnificence; no earthly being could accomplish such a task. However this also means that no earthly words could possibly describe this wonder and so I will cease with all attempts, instead I will merely relate to the things I experienced and bore witness to. The first thing that must be mentioned are the Angels. My god, pardon the phrase, were they brilliant. Spectacularly divine beings of unparalleled beauty, once more words fail to properly convey their radiance. These majestic beings were scurrying back and forth from the far reaches of the garden tending to and from the plants. They were carrying out a variety of tasks: Some Angels ferried with them a golden liquid that I can only postulate was a heavenly equivalent for our mundane water. The plants soaked up this liquid and grew nigh immediately. Other Angels were trimming the plants akin to how one would a show dog. Hence it is my belief that the proper word would be grooming. They were grooming the plants to become towering beauties like the rest of their brethren. However it still bears mention that, even at this infantile state, their beauty was leaps and bounds beyond anything on earth. Even more Angels were diligently administering an odd green liquid into the soil, the only explanation my mind can formulate is that this was a some sort of heavenly fertilizer. Still, this explanation does not sit well my soul and I believe its true nature is incomprehensible by our minds. These are but a few of the countless tasks I saw the Angels partaking in to make this garden so divine. I cannot fathom the nature of a tenth of these tasks and I understand even fewer. However it was never the tasks or even the plants within in the gardens that truly inspired me. What truly screamed brilliance and will remain embedded in my soul for all eternity is the most beautiful event one can see on any plane of existence: The birth of a new soul. Still, do not mistake my words of praise as claiming this sight was on par with any in the mortal realm. This event was still a multiplication tens of thousands of times greater than its earthly equivalent. The births I saw can never be surpassed by anything except, perhaps, the birth of a new god. Of course, considering how unfair to you it is for me to prolong my explanation with any more embellishment, I will now offer my explanation. I had been walking through the marvelous garden, thoroughly enjoying the heavenly spectacle, when a flower, that had previously remained closed to me, decided now was the right time to open. Inside it rested an even more beautiful creature, a tiny little gift from god, an infant angel. Even as new born it still conveyed that it was a majestic being. Still reeling from my shock and awe at seeing such a beautiful creature I slowly looked up and down the rows of flowers. Another fantastical sight lay before me as I saw more and more flowers opening to reveal their true splendor. That was the moment it dawned upon me: I, Andrew Caldwell, have truly walked down the path of God and seen the majesty of his garden. ----------------------------------- Choice #3: "Rules of Combat" The rules of combat are clear to us. There are always two combatants. There are only two weapons. Victory is called when one person’s fighting spirit is broken. Bones may be cracked. Blood may be spilt. Lives may be taken. But there must be a victorious soul. There must be a defeated soul. The rules of combat are clear to us. I fight against Him. The Blade-man, the Knife-artist, the Steel-stinger. All assembled know what He will choose as His weapon. A leather handle... ...topped with seven inches of cold, iron death. Fun. He steps forward; His eyes gleam in the dark like His blade does in the sun. His smile is a wolf’s grin. His stance proclaims Him as victor of a thousand battles. The common consensus: He will win. I will die. It is prophecy -- written in the stars by the divine. Divinity cannot be beaten. And that is why I challenge it. I reach down to claim my weapon. Fingers slither through shallow undergrowth. A rigid ovoid is trapped in my grip. I rip upwards, dragging my prize into the light. Reaching out, I reveal my weapon. It is met with laughter. Ridicule. Pity. Despair. Because how can He, Knife-soul, lose to me, Fruit-bearer. Quietly, I take my own blade and slice my weapon in two. I keep one part; the rest is thrown away. We enter the circle. The battle commences. He charges, steel aimed for my throat. I step aside, raising my left shoulder, making a new target for his blade. Blood splatters, and I keep turning, twisting his knife deeper into my arm. Pain burns in my flesh, but I am stronger than it. I endure. I always endure. He tries to wrench his weapon free, and I raise my free arm -- my fruit arm. Step back in front of Him, push my weapon forward, towards His eyes. I focus my pain into my right hand. My fist clenches. Acid flies. He screams, grabbing at His face. Drop my weapon; draw His. Let His blade land on the ground. My fist moves like lightning through the air. It finds His face like flies find dung. he joins his weapon in the dirt. Victory is called. The rules of combat are clear to us. ----------------------------------- Choice #4: "Trigger" I think that within this universe, in the journey of every sentient species, there is a threshold.On the near side of the threshold is prematurity: space-faring civilizations whose hops and skips onto stellar stepping stones are fueled primarily by hubris, temerity, and more than a few careless decisions; societies still consumed by civil war and turmoil, who have not found a common enemy to unite them and so turn on themselves like fever on the human body — i.e. adolescence. The mountain lies before them, but they only have the faintest idea it exists and know not what it means. Humanity belongs to this group.The far side of the threshold is maturity. I don’t know what lies beyond the threshold, for I’m only human. I don’t know what a species in adulthood would be. Maybe species beyond the threshold are as burdened with war, dissonance, poverty, and mortality as the rest of us primitives are.The threshold itself, however, must not be discarded. It (theoretically speaking) must be a trigger, what event or discovery that awakens a race to its potential and, like spurs in the sides of a horse, accelerates its pace.Why am I relating this? First, I’ve been on a science fiction binge for my past month on Europa: Speculation has become a part of my daily routine.Second, I believe I’ve discovered the trigger.* * *If I had to describe Europa in one word, I would choose “interesting”.Its tenuous atmosphere contains oxygen, the product of water molecules on Europa’s surface being broken into their base components and hydrogen atoms’ nominal mass. The temperature about the area of Outpost EU1-E, to the best of my knowledge, has never risen past negative two hundred eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Naturally, being on average over three hundred degrees Fahrenheit colder than the freezing temperature of water, Europa’s surface is frozen solid; but it is covered with canyons and rifts that we still need to explore.Jupiter, however, is massive. Its gravitational force kneads Europa’s core like dough. The warping generates heat. Subsequently, the heat melts some of the ice. Thus, water — two and a half miles below the surface.It was into that water that we tapped perchance a month ago. (Most of us celebrated not with water but with alcohol.) We still haven’t named the ocean, but we are fully expecting those of us more inclined to mythology to brainstorm a name posthaste.No human could (or would) squeeze through the hole that we bored in Europa’s surface; thus, we deposited a robot, ignored cries about pollutants, and began exploring.I was on duty when the discovery occurred. Actually, I was nearly asleep at the control board. The putta-putta-putta of our robot’s propellers served as a sleeping machine in a pinch, and three hours of looking at flashing lights like the ones on a Christmas tree does not adrenaline trigger.Because I was drowsy, I almost didn’t notice the screen. We’d discovered a form of cropped seaweed, probably modified algae, on the Europan ocean floor; it was by now a familiar sight, so it nearly concealed with its familiarity my discovery.Between the verdant filaments of seaweed lay a colored object — three to be technical, but they were pieces of a whole. I slapped myself so I knew I wasn’t dreaming, but there it was: broken pottery on Europa’s ocean floor.I reported it. The higher-ups came back to me (a full day later) and said to do tests. We did them. The pottery wasn’t from us.We recovered it. It was worn so the designs weren’t legible, and much of the pottery had been worn smooth so it wouldn’t perfectly fit together again, but it was enough. A report was prepared. I was told to sit in the background of the video, and I waved when my direct superior, Dr. Ian Miller, pointed to me and said I had made the discovery, but otherwise I said nothing. Maybe I should have — who knows?What I do know — what we all know — is that the pottery belongs to someone else. It’s a mystery, but its existence has answered another question that has burned in our hearts for millennia:Are we alone? The answer is no; we are not.Now I’m waiting for someone to answer, “So what now?”Perhaps the answer to that question will be the trigger, and my discovery will be the trigger of the trigger, if you get what I mean. It’s just speculation, mind you. -----------------------------------

Vote here for your favorite Art-to-Fiction story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 9th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to Art-to-Fiction Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll. Choice #1: "The Treasure" Almost there… I thought Soon I’ll confront the dragon to seize the rubies of power. I had been scaling this mountain for days and never seemed to get any closer to his destination, but now he could see the rocky outcropping clearly. Made it! I thought when I finished scrambling over the last few boulders. The view was extraordinary, I could see the entire kingdom from my vantage point. “I made it!” I yelled. I then heard a distinct growling behind me. My eyes were wide with fear; the monstrous lizard was behind me, preparing to strike. I readied my sword, spun around and was greeted by a large mass of bones. None of which were the dragons’. I walked inside carefully and immediately spotted the rubies, they were stuck in a small crevice and I could not reach them. The growling continued… I ventured further into the cavern; Finding other long lost treasures. I eventually made it to the center of the large cavern and was greeted by a large pile of gold, silver, and gemstones. I looked around, but found no sign of the dragon that supposedly guarded this trove. Where is it? I thought, then I found the answer; there was a large bronze door on the other side of the very large room, but it was locked. I dug out the key that I had found at the foot of the mountain and put it in the lock, I turned it, and the door responded with many clicking sounds as it opened. I walked inside, and there I found the dragon, asleep. Dragons never sleep. But that wasn’t the strangest thing, I saw that the dragon was made entirely out of rubies! Experimentally, I grabbed one and yanked it off of its body. The opening was not one of flesh, but rather one of bones. It’s dead. I thought.The mighty beast died of old age. That makes things easier. And it’s encrusted in rubies! I pulled more and more off and stuffed them in by bag, selfishness and pride overwhelmed me as I continually grabbed more and more. Then I noticed a slight change in my hand. Since when do I have claws? I thought. But it was more than that, my whole body was changing. I grew larger, scalier, and more dragon-like. Then I made the connection: The rubies of power referred to the dragon, it possessed power like nothing else. And I was the one growling! By the time that I had emptied my bag of the treasures that I had collected, it was too late. The conversion had finished, I let out a mighty roar and left this room to guard my treasure, not knowing who I was, or why I was here. There was one selfish, prideful thought that dominated my mind: My treasure. ----------------------------------- Choice #2: "Refuge" Everyone's a refugee at some point in their livesIt takes a lot less than war and famine to drive you out of a home, in search of something better,Sometimes we all overdose on life a little, or a lot,Sometimes we need to escape the pain of heartbreak, but mostly it's the pain of hiding behind a mask,Watching from behind a window, pawing at the glass and wishing you could get out there and be free.Life doesn't happen, it never does except to those who don't want it.Here I am hiding behind my walls hearing the muffled joy, wanting to reach out,But I'm blocked by wood and paint, in my little office,Chained to my doghouse. Today is the World Series of repression, and I'm a proEveryday is a fresh start that starts as a beautiful fruit, rotting from the inside,Until tonight I peel the orange and find the flies have got to it,And it has me going bananas. How I can't CHANGE!What if I never do, what will I ever do?God, help me from my hospital bed, spread the sheets and sign the cast no more,Cause I'm breaking free!I'm going, away from this pressure cooker and into the fire!No stress in this frying pan though, it's all hot and coolIn the kitchen where I belong. No living dead where I'm going,No zombies of the first world will feast on my brain today,No more vampires sucking all my blood away!To say nothing of the Mosquitos.No more nonsense, I'm combing it all out like the tanglesThat flee from the no more tangles conditioner, today there shall beNo more tears!No red eyes or tired minds in my refugee camp,I don't want any piece of your mind where I'm going, justPeace of mind.I'm going to the red tents in the green hills, the shades of a bouquet,That sits like a blossom pollinating my life, welcoming the overworked beeTo feast on some honey, no price, no fee.I'm a wise old man with my life blowing away,And I'm sitting in my tent, just waiting to sayTo all those lost fools how I broke freeFrom my life and battles plaguing me.Today I'm a refugee. ----------------------------------- Choice #3: "On the Edge of Existence" I was running through the woods. It wasn’t a day for walking. With each exhilarating breath I felt the power of life tingle throughout my body. I was breathing heavily, feeling all the more, living all the more.As each step fell on the soft, spongy mosses and leaf-molds of the forest floor, I thought I was walking on clouds, flying through the forest, flying through life, flying through the world.I had never lived before. I realized that then. Here, lost in Nature, lost in my own spirit, I had found true Life. And I never wanted to let go of it again.Unfortunately, Reality has a way of forcing itself back into your hands whether you want it or not. Reality, not life, gives you lemons. And sometimes, it throws them at you hard.A celestial being, with wings of ether and sunlight, soared through the heavens until his foot got caught on a tree root and he fell flat on his face.Ah, but Reality, he didn’t want your lemons! You can keep them!I picked myself up. The angel in my heart spread his wings and prepared to fly again when I distracted him by taking notice of a pale, multicolored light through the trees. At first I thought it might be the setting sun, but there was a strong, definite tone of blue in it. When you’re Living for the first time, you don’t balk at making new discoveries. Curiosity is as much your ally, your tutor, and your guide as it is a newborn babe’s.I immediately followed the light. But it was not a goal, it was not an end, merely a means; it was the path that led me through the trees only. The trees, covered with moss and mushroom; the birds, singing sweetly in the trees; the babbling brooks, I passed, the gentle breeze that swept my face; this was the reason I was here, the reason I was Living, and not even curiosity gave me any other reason to walk through that forest.Which I found the source of the light, it was not a source of shock or surprise, only of wonder. I had left Reality far behind me. And, so, as to the possibility of what I saw, Why not?I pushed my way through the hanging tendrils of ivy and moss and lichen, and there, nestled in a hollow between an oak’s embracing roots, sat a gap in the world.It wasn’t a hole, or I didn’t think it was; it couldn’t be, unless it was the Rabbit Hole that leads to Wonderland. But it wasn’t anything, because it just wasn’t there; it was an emptiness, glowing brightly with mingled oranges and blues; it was a seam between the stitches, or a part of the world that had accidentally been left out. Whatever it was, it was a gap torn in Reality itself, and why not?Any other day I might have hesitated. I might have thought of all the things I was leaving behind. But that day, I knew what was behind me; Reality, cold, harsh, and forever dull.I didn’t know what lay ahead. But I was ready to find out.It was one small step, or a flying leap of faith into the unknown. I walked, I flew through that portal; or perhaps I had always been on the other side, and I was just waking from a strange dream.Wherever I was going, I knew this: I was leaving Reality, and stepping into Life, the greatest unknown. ----------------------------------- Choice #4: "On a Mission" “Tell me again why we’re trekking through the middle of nowhere,” said a short young man with scruffy brown hair as he nearly tripped over a log. “Because, if you want to keep flying those solar-sailers hither and yon, we need powerstones,” replied his companion, a seven-foot-tall automaton clad in stark-white armor, with ‘ZAG’ plastered across the right pauldron in black. “Besides, you hardly do anything around the ship. About time the Captain gave you a field-mission.” The young man – known simply as Tobi by the crew of the H.M.S. Thunderhead – rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could get back to the airship and get out of this blasted jungle. “Shouldn’t be too much farther,” Zag said after a time as he glanced down at the device in his hand: a brass box with various gauges on its sleek face; some newfangled device for tracking energy-signatures, apparently. “Good; I’m getting tired of seeing nothing but trees,” Tobi replied, eyeing a gnarled ficus as though it intended to harm him. “Tobi, watch were y—” Too late. Tobi had already fallen, and was now lying face-first in the mud. He scrambled about and slipped repeatedly before finally regaining his footing, standing as still as possible with his arms stretched out to the sides to steady himself. The automaton couldn’t resist. From his perch atop a massive log alongside the pool of mud, he leaned over and poked Tobi’s shoulder, sending the poor boy flailing into the mud again. “Are you kidding me?!” Tobi spat as pulled himself out again, cursing along the way and trying to wipe the mud from his face and trousers. Zag simply chuckled and followed his companion without a word, for he considered it well-deserved payback for the energy-viper he’d found in his satchel this morning. Were it not for the tree-hour recharge he had to go through, their little mission would have been over with already. Zag looked away for only a second, and suddenly Tobi was nowhere in sight. The automaton glanced around and picked up the pace, muttering “darn it, Tobi…” as he went. The boy was notorious for getting lost, even on their own ship, and Zag was convinced it would one day be the death of him. “Hey! Zag! Come ‘ere!” The automaton backtracked a bit, and after squeezing through a rather thick clump of foliage, he finally found Tobi sitting at the edge of a small ravine, looking at something below. “Don’t do that again,” Zag warned. “Now, what did… you…” They found themselves looking down at what appeared to be a cluster of powerstones, but these were bigger than any they had seen before; the largest of them the size of a skiff at least, by the looks of it. Tobi glanced down at his bag. “We’re going to need a bigger satchel.” ----------------------------------- Choice #5: "The Forest" A dense fog shrouded the Forest, clinging to my skin and soaking into my clothing. The branches of the gargantuan trees were slippery beneath my feet; even after years of travelling this way, it was still a challenge to find my footing in these conditions. It was difficult too to find my way forward – not only did the weather severely limit my vision, but I hadn’t come this way in… how long? Months, at least. Why I chose to travel here, I can’t quite say. Maybe I just wanted a change of scenery. Perhaps I was guided by my subconscious or some other force beyond my comprehension. Whatever prompted my journey, though, one thing was certain – I was really starting to regret it. Wandering aimlessly through the Forest in a fog such as that one is rarely a wise idea. I suppose I should introduce myself: I am the Man. Once, perhaps, I was called something else, but whatever that name may have been, it means nothing now. The inhabitants of this place know me as the Man, and there is no one to call me anything else. They refer to me as such because I am the only human being to live here, on this planet known to us as the Forest. Perhaps, in the distant reaches of space, there are those who refer to it in another way, but none here could fathom what that might be, nor do we care to. Of course, “we” is a relative term. There are several species in the Forest that whose intelligence equals mine, certainly: the apes, the wolves, the cats. The birds, too – some of them, at least. And, of course, surpassing us all is the Lord of the Forest himself. But none of these associate with me, nor I with them. Occasionally we make contact, interact in some way, sometimes as friends, others as enemies. But rarely is it long before we part ways. My foot slipped on a knot in the branch that I hadn’t seen; I lost my balance despite a quick attempt to right myself. My fingers caught a groove in the bark and for a moment I hung there, suspended in fog. Then they slipped out. Time slowed as I fell. It was surreal – all around me there was gray, gray, nothing but cold gray fog. It was impossible to tell which way was up, which was down; I has no reference point of any kind. And then I felt hard wood beneath me as I collided with another massive tree branch, this one even wider than the first. With some difficulty, I pushed myself to my feet and glanced around. Surprisingly enough, I could actually see something – off to my right, the colorless fog transitioned seamlessly to a dull reddish glow. Intrigued, I stepped forward, though I did so tentatively. I wasn’t sure how badly I’d been hurt in the fall, and on top of that, well, the Forest holds many dangers. I’d never seen glowing red fog before, but it could easily be one of them. Within moments the source of the light came into view: in the branches of the tree was nestled a nest, a nest so massive that it looked to be constructed of saplings rather than twigs. And within the nest lay three eggs, nearly identical, their coloration a beautifully marbled red-orange-purple. From each egg radiated a dull light, illuminating the nest and refracting through the fog that surrounded them. I stared at the sight before me in awe. Only one creature in the Forest could have produced such a marvel. A faint rustle of leaves reached my ears, and I slowly turned. Staring out of the fog was a single massive eye, a vibrant orange ring surrounding a pupil bigger than my head and darker than a starless night. Immediately I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. The eye blinked and moved in closer, bringing with it a beak that looked sharp enough to slice me in half with the barest scratch. Fortunately, though, the Lord of the Forest didn’t seem to be in a slicing mood. Instead, he clucked softly, offering a greeting and not a threat. I rose. “It is an honor, my Lord.” Only thrice before had I ever laid eyes on the great bird, and never had I seen him so close. He clucked again. I nodded silently and turned back into the fog. Within moments I could see nothing but gray. -----------------------------------

Polling period over; topic closed.

Polling period over; topic closed.

Polling period over; topic closed.

Theme #10: Art-to-Fiction Entry #1: The Treasure Almost there… I thought Soon I’ll confront the dragon to seize the rubies of power. I had been scaling this mountain for days and never seemed to get any closer to his destination, but now he could see the rocky outcropping clearly. Made it! I thought when I finished scrambling over the last few boulders. The view was extraordinary, I could see the entire kingdom from my vantage point. “I made it!” I yelled. I then heard a distinct growling behind me. My eyes were wide with fear; the monstrous lizard was behind me, preparing to strike. I readied my sword, spun around and was greeted by a large mass of bones. None of which were the dragons’. I walked inside carefully and immediately spotted the rubies, they were stuck in a small crevice and I could not reach them. The growling continued… I ventured further into the cavern; Finding other long lost treasures. I eventually made it to the center of the large cavern and was greeted by a large pile of gold, silver, and gemstones. I looked around, but found no sign of the dragon that supposedly guarded this trove. Where is it? I thought, then I found the answer; there was a large bronze door on the other side of the very large room, but it was locked. I dug out the key that I had found at the foot of the mountain and put it in the lock, I turned it, and the door responded with many clicking sounds as it opened. I walked inside, and there I found the dragon, asleep. Dragons never sleep. But that wasn’t the strangest thing, I saw that the dragon was made entirely out of rubies! Experimentally, I grabbed one and yanked it off of its body. The opening was not one of flesh, but rather one of bones. It’s dead. I thought.The mighty beast died of old age. That makes things easier. And it’s encrusted in rubies! I pulled more and more off and stuffed them in by bag, selfishness and pride overwhelmed me as I continually grabbed more and more. Then I noticed a slight change in my hand. Since when do I have claws? I thought. But it was more than that, my whole body was changing. I grew larger, scalier, and more dragon-like. Then I made the connection: The rubies of power referred to the dragon, it possessed power like nothing else. And I was the one growling! By the time that I had emptied my bag of the treasures that I had collected, it was too late. The conversion had finished, I let out a mighty roar and left this room to guard my treasure, not knowing who I was, or why I was here. There was one selfish, prideful thought that dominated my mind: My treasure. ----------------------------------- Entry #2: "Unfocused" What is this piece of junk supposed to be? It’s an abstract spaceship Doesn’t look like a spaceship well that’s ‘cause it’s abstract, you see What’s the blue stuff? It’s aliens, he keeps asking aliens? I say aliens. Why aliens? Well they ride spaceships Most of this canvas is blue, is everything aliens? Yes This is garbage nobody is going to buy it he says Sigh I was worried he’d say that ‘S Only the truth I’ll try again I guess. Don’t limit yourself to spaceships, try a pony or something that seems to be popular I’ll…give that some thought? I’ll be leaving. You work on something else Right. Bye. Sigh. This painting is terrible. I should go burn it outside. Maybe after I drink my coffee… Man that was not a good idea. The neighbor got all up in my case again about burning paintings and what’s that smell and why are you even using arsenic paint and just Geez That guy needs to calm down. I didn’t even step on his Chihuahua this time, or drop searing hot coffee on it either. Also I’m only burning one painting, not that he wasn’t exaggerating on last month’s bonfire but seriously just Jeez So I guess I have to do something else now but god I am tired. I need another coffee. I shouldn’t have burned that painting, such a moron. Should’ve tried to sell it anyways or painted over it Just Ugh Guess I need to do something else. Another spaceship? I guess I could try but doesn’t sound that fun He mentioned something about ponies I should look that up on the internet God I hate going outside. Is too bad I dropped my coffee on the modem, not that I can afford the internet right now but you know convenience. Internet café what a freaking joke who even goes to these things anymore Other than me I guess but I got an excuse What are these hacks doing here Such hacks Guess I’m going to buy some time now and also some coffee Okay so ponies look up ponies and And And Holy Mother Of What Oh god oh god oh god What the #### is this I’m just JEEZ What is wrong with people Just GOD Oh? No I wasn’t looking at that stuff. No you definitely didn’t see me sir you must have been mistaken I was just looking up…salad! What do you mean I’m banned from coming here again I wasn’t even doing anything this is just such communism Stop At least let me keep the coffee I paid for it with money Back at home, just so tired. I need more coffee. Agh this isn’t working. I’m going to bed. Oh great I forgot I also dropped coffee on the bed I drop coffee on everything so clumsy (Maybe I should start drawing with coffee?) Argh. Good night. Dreaming like a baby dreaming like a baby, there’s a race track in my brain and there’s no stoppin’ me Woo Coffee waterfall! Don’t I drink too much coffee? Haha so silly you can’t drink too much coffee Is a medicine or something Wee Huh Where am I Where is the coffee Why is everything dark Is this a nightmare Are the ponies gonna show up Please don’t be ponies Oh okay the lights are coming back up This is some creepy aura I’m getting from this place what are these Lightning trees And okay then there comes a spaceship That’s a nice shade of purplredrange. What a weirdly abstract scene of lightning trees and a purplredrange spaceship. I should plagiarize this. He’s asking if I plagiarized this spaceship I say of course I did don’t be a cool dude He’s like why did you call me a cool dude I’m just saying What are you even saying Where did I get it it’s just from my sexy subconscious, you tool Hey don’t get feisty now (I don’t even know what that word means) Anyways he says I can sell this No duh It came from my subconscious that stuff is downright sexy. ----------------------------------- Entry #3: "Rules of Combat" The rules of combat are clear to us. There are always two combatants. There are only two weapons. Victory is called when one person’s fighting spirit is broken. Bones may be cracked. Blood may be spilt. Lives may be taken. But there must be a victorious soul. There must be a defeated soul. The rules of combat are clear to us. I fight against Him. The Blade-man, the Knife-artist, the Steel-stinger. All assembled know what He will choose as His weapon. A leather handle... ...topped with seven inches of cold, iron death. Fun. He steps forward; His eyes gleam in the dark like His blade does in the sun. His smile is a wolf’s grin. His stance proclaims Him as victor of a thousand battles. The common consensus: He will win. I will die. It is prophecy -- written in the stars by the divine. Divinity cannot be beaten. And that is why I challenge it. I reach down to claim my weapon. Fingers slither through shallow undergrowth. A rigid ovoid is trapped in my grip. I rip upwards, dragging my prize into the light. Reaching out, I reveal my weapon. It is met with laughter. Ridicule. Pity. Despair. Because how can He, Knife-soul, lose to me, Fruit-bearer. Quietly, I take my own blade and slice my weapon in two. I keep one part; the rest is thrown away. We enter the circle. The battle commences. He charges, steel aimed for my throat. I step aside, raising my left shoulder, making a new target for his blade. Blood splatters, and I keep turning, twisting his knife deeper into my arm. Pain burns in my flesh, but I am stronger than it. I endure. I always endure. He tries to wrench his weapon free, and I raise my free arm -- my fruit arm. Step back in front of Him, push my weapon forward, towards His eyes. I focus my pain into my right hand. My fist clenches. Acid flies. He screams, grabbing at His face. Drop my weapon; draw His. Let His blade land on the ground. My fist moves like lightning through the air. It finds His face like flies find dung. he joins his weapon in the dirt. Victory is called. The rules of combat are clear to us. ----------------------------------- Entry #4: "Search for Atlantis" Rory entered the underwater cave. It was not a safe place to be; there were sharp rocks that could tear through his wetsuit with ease, and potentially damage his oxygen tank. One little mistake could be fatal. Rory was not alone; he was diving with his partner Dave. Dave was a thrill seeker; he liked to challenge himself by pushing his body to its limit. But they were not here for an adrenaline rush; they were searching for something. The surface world, as Rory called it, was a mess. There was war, famine, poverty, and corruption everywhere. That world sickened Rory. He wanted to find someplace new, someplace with peace and tranquility. And that’s when he heard of Atlantis. Atlantis was supposedly an ancient kingdom with technology well ahead of its time. They had prospered for hundreds of years, but then the kingdom had vanished without a trace. Some legends said that it was sunk during a natural disaster, while others hinted that a rival kingdom destroyed it. But others claimed that Atlantis got fed up with the outside world, and they broke off contact and hid away. If this was true, then perhaps Rory could locate and visit Atlantis. At the very least, they might have a way to help deal with the horrors of the surface world. Over their underwater intercoms, Dave said, “The cave drops downwards up ahead, so that’s promising. I’ll take the lead.” Rory followed his partner. Dave was less concerned about the world than he was, but Rory needed his friend’s expertise in scuba diving to help him on his search. Atlantis was not an easy place to locate. It had been lost for centuries, and few sources offered any reliable clues as to where it was hiding. Using these and undersea charts, Rory had selected a few areas to explore. The two were currently on their third trip, in the southern Mediterranean Sea. Upon diving down, they had discovered a series of underwater caverns, and they were exploring them to see if one led anywhere. The two dropped down through a shaft, and reached yet another level of tunnels. They were narrower now, but Dave used his lantern to illuminate the way. The light gleamed off the white rocks that formed the cave walls. “There’s something up ahead,” Dave said suddenly. “What is it?” Rory followed his partner’s gaze. Crimson tendrils lay adrift on the stone floor. They shifted eerily in the lantern’s light. Rory swam closer to inspect it. “It seems to be some deceased creature, perhaps a sort of Cephalopod.” He reached forward to touch it, but it sudden moved back. “Wait, it’s not dead at all!” Something rose from the dust that had settled on the cavern’s floor, and Rory and Dave suddenly came face to face with a giant octopus. Before Rory could swim back, one of its arms reached out and wrapped around his body. “Rory, look out!” Dave shouted through the intercom. He drew a diving knife and swam forward. He sliced at the octopus’s skin, but his cuts were too shallow and didn’t appear to hurt the sea beast. Instead, the octopus wrapped another one of its arms around Dave. “This is bad!” Dave shouted, as the octopus began to squeeze. “If we don’t get free, it’ll break our oxygen tanks! Rory, try stabbing it in the eye, since you’re closer!” Rory tried to move, but he was now immobilized by the octopus. Dimly, he wondered if this was how it was all going to end. He couldn’t escape from the pain and suffering on the surface after all. But then another thought came to mind. He was invading this creature’s territory, and had started the fight by surprising it. No wonder it retaliated. No, Rory deserved what he was getting, and he ceased to struggle. But to his surprise, that caused the octopus to release him. Struck by this revelation, Rory called to Dave, “Stop struggling, that’s what’s getting it riled up.” Having no other choice, Dave quit his thrashing, and soon the octopus released him too. And then the Cephalopod slipped away into another dark corner of the cave. “How did you. . .” Dave started. “Just call it a hunch,” Rory said. “Like maybe it was a challenge, to make sure the violent and foolhardy wouldn’t continue forward.” “A challenge? Do you think Atlantis is near by?” “Well, it won’t hurt to check,” Rory said, and he pushed forward. ----------------------------------- Entry #5: "On the Edge of Existence" I was running through the woods. It wasn’t a day for walking. With each exhilarating breath I felt the power of life tingle throughout my body. I was breathing heavily, feeling all the more, living all the more.As each step fell on the soft, spongy mosses and leaf-molds of the forest floor, I thought I was walking on clouds, flying through the forest, flying through life, flying through the world.I had never lived before. I realized that then. Here, lost in Nature, lost in my own spirit, I had found true Life. And I never wanted to let go of it again.Unfortunately, Reality has a way of forcing itself back into your hands whether you want it or not. Reality, not life, gives you lemons. And sometimes, it throws them at you hard.A celestial being, with wings of ether and sunlight, soared through the heavens until his foot got caught on a tree root and he fell flat on his face.Ah, but Reality, he didn’t want your lemons! You can keep them!I picked myself up. The angel in my heart spread his wings and prepared to fly again when I distracted him by taking notice of a pale, multicolored light through the trees. At first I thought it might be the setting sun, but there was a strong, definite tone of blue in it. When you’re Living for the first time, you don’t balk at making new discoveries. Curiosity is as much your ally, your tutor, and your guide as it is a newborn babe’s.I immediately followed the light. But it was not a goal, it was not an end, merely a means; it was the path that led me through the trees only. The trees, covered with moss and mushroom; the birds, singing sweetly in the trees; the babbling brooks, I passed, the gentle breeze that swept my face; this was the reason I was here, the reason I was Living, and not even curiosity gave me any other reason to walk through that forest.Which I found the source of the light, it was not a source of shock or surprise, only of wonder. I had left Reality far behind me. And, so, as to the possibility of what I saw, Why not?I pushed my way through the hanging tendrils of ivy and moss and lichen, and there, nestled in a hollow between an oak’s embracing roots, sat a gap in the world.It wasn’t a hole, or I didn’t think it was; it couldn’t be, unless it was the Rabbit Hole that leads to Wonderland. But it wasn’t anything, because it just wasn’t there; it was an emptiness, glowing brightly with mingled oranges and blues; it was a seam between the stitches, or a part of the world that had accidentally been left out. Whatever it was, it was a gap torn in Reality itself, and why not?Any other day I might have hesitated. I might have thought of all the things I was leaving behind. But that day, I knew what was behind me; Reality, cold, harsh, and forever dull.I didn’t know what lay ahead. But I was ready to find out.It was one small step, or a flying leap of faith into the unknown. I walked, I flew through that portal; or perhaps I had always been on the other side, and I was just waking from a strange dream.Wherever I was going, I knew this: I was leaving Reality, and stepping into Life, the greatest unknown. ----------------------------------- Entry #6: "Trigger" I think that within this universe, in the journey of every sentient species, there is a threshold.On the near side of the threshold is prematurity: space-faring civilizations whose hops and skips onto stellar stepping stones are fueled primarily by hubris, temerity, and more than a few careless decisions; societies still consumed by civil war and turmoil, who have not found a common enemy to unite them and so turn on themselves like fever on the human body — i.e. adolescence. The mountain lies before them, but they only have the faintest idea it exists and know not what it means. Humanity belongs to this group.The far side of the threshold is maturity. I don’t know what lies beyond the threshold, for I’m only human. I don’t know what a species in adulthood would be. Maybe species beyond the threshold are as burdened with war, dissonance, poverty, and mortality as the rest of us primitives are.The threshold itself, however, must not be discarded. It (theoretically speaking) must be a trigger, what event or discovery that awakens a race to its potential and, like spurs in the sides of a horse, accelerates its pace.Why am I relating this? First, I’ve been on a science fiction binge for my past month on Europa: Speculation has become a part of my daily routine.Second, I believe I’ve discovered the trigger.* * *If I had to describe Europa in one word, I would choose “interesting”.Its tenuous atmosphere contains oxygen, the product of water molecules on Europa’s surface being broken into their base components and hydrogen atoms’ nominal mass. The temperature about the area of Outpost EU1-E, to the best of my knowledge, has never risen past negative two hundred eighty degrees Fahrenheit. Naturally, being on average over three hundred degrees Fahrenheit colder than the freezing temperature of water, Europa’s surface is frozen solid; but it is covered with canyons and rifts that we still need to explore.Jupiter, however, is massive. Its gravitational force kneads Europa’s core like dough. The warping generates heat. Subsequently, the heat melts some of the ice. Thus, water — two and a half miles below the surface.It was into that water that we tapped perchance a month ago. (Most of us celebrated not with water but with alcohol.) We still haven’t named the ocean, but we are fully expecting those of us more inclined to mythology to brainstorm a name posthaste.No human could (or would) squeeze through the hole that we bored in Europa’s surface; thus, we deposited a robot, ignored cries about pollutants, and began exploring.I was on duty when the discovery occurred. Actually, I was nearly asleep at the control board. The putta-putta-putta of our robot’s propellers served as a sleeping machine in a pinch, and three hours of looking at flashing lights like the ones on a Christmas tree does not adrenaline trigger.Because I was drowsy, I almost didn’t notice the screen. We’d discovered a form of cropped seaweed, probably modified algae, on the Europan ocean floor; it was by now a familiar sight, so it nearly concealed with its familiarity my discovery.Between the verdant filaments of seaweed lay a colored object — three to be technical, but they were pieces of a whole. I slapped myself so I knew I wasn’t dreaming, but there it was: broken pottery on Europa’s ocean floor.I reported it. The higher-ups came back to me (a full day later) and said to do tests. We did them. The pottery wasn’t from us.We recovered it. It was worn so the designs weren’t legible, and much of the pottery had been worn smooth so it wouldn’t perfectly fit together again, but it was enough. A report was prepared. I was told to sit in the background of the video, and I waved when my direct superior, Dr. Ian Miller, pointed to me and said I had made the discovery, but otherwise I said nothing. Maybe I should have — who knows?What I do know — what we all know — is that the pottery belongs to someone else. It’s a mystery, but its existence has answered another question that has burned in our hearts for millennia:Are we alone? The answer is no; we are not.Now I’m waiting for someone to answer, “So what now?”Perhaps the answer to that question will be the trigger, and my discovery will be the trigger of the trigger, if you get what I mean. It’s just speculation, mind you. ----------------------------------- Entry #7: "On a Mission" “Tell me again why we’re trekking through the middle of nowhere,” said a short young man with scruffy brown hair as he nearly tripped over a log. “Because, if you want to keep flying those solar-sailers hither and yon, we need powerstones,” replied his companion, a seven-foot-tall automaton clad in stark-white armor, with ‘ZAG’ plastered across the right pauldron in black. “Besides, you hardly do anything around the ship. About time the Captain gave you a field-mission.” The young man – known simply as Tobi by the crew of the H.M.S. Thunderhead – rolled his eyes and quickened his pace. The sooner they got this over with, the sooner they could get back to the airship and get out of this blasted jungle. “Shouldn’t be too much farther,” Zag said after a time as he glanced down at the device in his hand: a brass box with various gauges on its sleek face; some newfangled device for tracking energy-signatures, apparently. “Good; I’m getting tired of seeing nothing but trees,” Tobi replied, eyeing a gnarled ficus as though it intended to harm him. “Tobi, watch were y—” Too late. Tobi had already fallen, and was now lying face-first in the mud. He scrambled about and slipped repeatedly before finally regaining his footing, standing as still as possible with his arms stretched out to the sides to steady himself. The automaton couldn’t resist. From his perch atop a massive log alongside the pool of mud, he leaned over and poked Tobi’s shoulder, sending the poor boy flailing into the mud again. “Are you kidding me?!” Tobi spat as pulled himself out again, cursing along the way and trying to wipe the mud from his face and trousers. Zag simply chuckled and followed his companion without a word, for he considered it well-deserved payback for the energy-viper he’d found in his satchel this morning. Were it not for the tree-hour recharge he had to go through, their little mission would have been over with already. Zag looked away for only a second, and suddenly Tobi was nowhere in sight. The automaton glanced around and picked up the pace, muttering “darn it, Tobi…” as he went. The boy was notorious for getting lost, even on their own ship, and Zag was convinced it would one day be the death of him. “Hey! Zag! Come ‘ere!” The automaton backtracked a bit, and after squeezing through a rather thick clump of foliage, he finally found Tobi sitting at the edge of a small ravine, looking at something below. “Don’t do that again,” Zag warned. “Now, what did… you…” They found themselves looking down at what appeared to be a cluster of powerstones, but these were bigger than any they had seen before; the largest of them the size of a skiff at least, by the looks of it. Tobi glanced down at his bag. “We’re going to need a bigger satchel.” ----------------------------------- Entry #8: "Terra Atmo Resto" With the attentive and delicate care of a mother, I gently tucked the earth over the head-sized nut. My little seed, who would soon sprout and undoubtedly outgrow me before long. Eventually the tree would stand over one thousand feet. That is, if it survived. I stepped back and surveyed the desolate red landscape. "I don't know, Mom," I said through the vocal transistors of my planetary atmospheric life-suit. "How is he going to survive in this wasteland?" * * * The memory faded, to be replaced by the starry vista outside my window in the family cruiserhome. If I craned my neck, I could just make out the red planet we were approaching. Nublar-6, the planet that my father had bought for the family many years ago. Or rather, he had bought a part of it. The Zarrulian government was selling land on the planet, recently purchased from a neighboring intergalactic nation. The resources and finances of that nation were running low, and they found themselves unable to apply the proper terra atmo resto (sorry, the lingo, it means "terrain and atmosphere restoration") process to this planet. Ten years ago we had come here to plant some vegetation, biologically engineered specifically for this planet's climate. We did this in several locations, and if all has gone well we should find some expansive pastures when we arrive. Once the atmosphere is finished being prepared (it nearly was now) we would be moving here permanently so we could better help develop the ecosystem. We would introduce some animals, herbivores and later predators, and try to keep the growing ecology in balance. Being only eighteen and not the smartest girl around, I don't fully understand the process myself, but that's the basic idea. My dad's something of a genius and he understands it all perfectly. But more than anything, in regard to this particular visit anyway, I was excited to see the tree I had planted back when I was just eight years old. If all went well, and I hoped with all my heart that it had, my tree should have sprouted and it should already be a good three dozen or so feet high. Most of our vegetation had been planted in large groups, but my father had let me pick out one special location for my own seed. "Buckle in, everyone," my father's voice commanded over the intercom. "We're nearing the atmosphere now." The family strapped in, each to their own seat in the cruiserhome. Altogether there were about twenty-five of us, although it was mostly extended relatives. We would be the first settlers in our part of the planet, but more would undoubtedly follow. Soon we were jostling through the atmosphere. We passed through a cloud, and I gasped. Those hadn't been around the last time, not that I could remember. The atmosphere restoration was coming along well. Soon we passed over our pastures, and were delighted to find many miles of fields and forests. They surpassed our expectations. My father had promised that we would visit my tree before arriving at the homestead, though not for long. I closed my eyes as we neared it. I didn't want to see it until we landed. * * * I hurriedly put on my atmospheric suit (which would not be necessary for much longer) and raced out as soon as the airlocks were open. And there it was. My tree. It must have been forty feet high! And to my surprise, he was surrounded by a dozen or so shorter trees. It took me a moment, but I soon realized that my tree was a parent! I can't describe the happiness I felt then. I now owned my own little forest. My father was surprised, too. My biologically engineered tree wasn't supposed to have borne any seeds yet, and certainly not these trees reaching up to about twenty feet. "Even in this age," he said, "I guess there's no full accounting for nature." He let me stay a little longer, and I wandered within the small forest, crossing over the leaf-strewn floor. Already a soil was forming. At the foot of my original tree I found myself in a small forest clearing, with him watching over as the maternal guardian that he was. It was a nice snug spot covered in moss and lichen. Between two of his big roots, a small head-sized nut was nestled, like an egg in its nest. I was so happy I cried. ----------------------------------- Entry #9: "God's Garden" Beautiful trees and flowers towered above me; colossal beings that inspired both awe and a little bit of fear. Such was the case with all things in this garden, because this wasn’t just any ordinary garden, this was the Garden of God. All around me I could see Angelic Beings, hard at work, cultivating these gargantuan beings. It was marvelous seeing them at work, seeing them take the ordinary and make it extraordinary. Never in my life had I seen such sheer beauty, such sheer magnificence; no earthly being could accomplish such a task. However this also means that no earthly words could possibly describe this wonder and so I will cease with all attempts, instead I will merely relate to the things I experienced and bore witness to. The first thing that must be mentioned are the Angels. My god, pardon the phrase, were they brilliant. Spectacularly divine beings of unparalleled beauty, once more words fail to properly convey their radiance. These majestic beings were scurrying back and forth from the far reaches of the garden tending to and from the plants. They were carrying out a variety of tasks: Some Angels ferried with them a golden liquid that I can only postulate was a heavenly equivalent for our mundane water. The plants soaked up this liquid and grew nigh immediately. Other Angels were trimming the plants akin to how one would a show dog. Hence it is my belief that the proper word would be grooming. They were grooming the plants to become towering beauties like the rest of their brethren. However it still bears mention that, even at this infantile state, their beauty was leaps and bounds beyond anything on earth. Even more Angels were diligently administering an odd green liquid into the soil, the only explanation my mind can formulate is that this was a some sort of heavenly fertilizer. Still, this explanation does not sit well my soul and I believe its true nature is incomprehensible by our minds. These are but a few of the countless tasks I saw the Angels partaking in to make this garden so divine. I cannot fathom the nature of a tenth of these tasks and I understand even fewer. However it was never the tasks or even the plants within in the gardens that truly inspired me. What truly screamed brilliance and will remain embedded in my soul for all eternity is the most beautiful event one can see on any plane of existence: The birth of a new soul. Still, do not mistake my words of praise as claiming this sight was on par with any in the mortal realm. This event was still a multiplication tens of thousands of times greater than its earthly equivalent. The births I saw can never be surpassed by anything except, perhaps, the birth of a new god. Of course, considering how unfair to you it is for me to prolong my explanation with any more embellishment, I will now offer my explanation. I had been walking through the marvelous garden, thoroughly enjoying the heavenly spectacle, when a flower, that had previously remained closed to me, decided now was the right time to open. Inside it rested an even more beautiful creature, a tiny little gift from god, an infant angel. Even as new born it still conveyed that it was a majestic being. Still reeling from my shock and awe at seeing such a beautiful creature I slowly looked up and down the rows of flowers. Another fantastical sight lay before me as I saw more and more flowers opening to reveal their true splendor. That was the moment it dawned upon me: I, Andrew Caldwell, have truly walked down the path of God and seen the majesty of his garden. ----------------------------------- Entry #10: "The Forest" A dense fog shrouded the Forest, clinging to my skin and soaking into my clothing. The branches of the gargantuan trees were slippery beneath my feet; even after years of travelling this way, it was still a challenge to find my footing in these conditions. It was difficult too to find my way forward – not only did the weather severely limit my vision, but I hadn’t come this way in… how long? Months, at least. Why I chose to travel here, I can’t quite say. Maybe I just wanted a change of scenery. Perhaps I was guided by my subconscious or some other force beyond my comprehension. Whatever prompted my journey, though, one thing was certain – I was really starting to regret it. Wandering aimlessly through the Forest in a fog such as that one is rarely a wise idea. I suppose I should introduce myself: I am the Man. Once, perhaps, I was called something else, but whatever that name may have been, it means nothing now. The inhabitants of this place know me as the Man, and there is no one to call me anything else. They refer to me as such because I am the only human being to live here, on this planet known to us as the Forest. Perhaps, in the distant reaches of space, there are those who refer to it in another way, but none here could fathom what that might be, nor do we care to. Of course, “we” is a relative term. There are several species in the Forest that whose intelligence equals mine, certainly: the apes, the wolves, the cats. The birds, too – some of them, at least. And, of course, surpassing us all is the Lord of the Forest himself. But none of these associate with me, nor I with them. Occasionally we make contact, interact in some way, sometimes as friends, others as enemies. But rarely is it long before we part ways. My foot slipped on a knot in the branch that I hadn’t seen; I lost my balance despite a quick attempt to right myself. My fingers caught a groove in the bark and for a moment I hung there, suspended in fog. Then they slipped out. Time slowed as I fell. It was surreal – all around me there was gray, gray, nothing but cold gray fog. It was impossible to tell which way was up, which was down; I has no reference point of any kind. And then I felt hard wood beneath me as I collided with another massive tree branch, this one even wider than the first. With some difficulty, I pushed myself to my feet and glanced around. Surprisingly enough, I could actually see something – off to my right, the colorless fog transitioned seamlessly to a dull reddish glow. Intrigued, I stepped forward, though I did so tentatively. I wasn’t sure how badly I’d been hurt in the fall, and on top of that, well, the Forest holds many dangers. I’d never seen glowing red fog before, but it could easily be one of them. Within moments the source of the light came into view: in the branches of the tree was nestled a nest, a nest so massive that it looked to be constructed of saplings rather than twigs. And within the nest lay three eggs, nearly identical, their coloration a beautifully marbled red-orange-purple. From each egg radiated a dull light, illuminating the nest and refracting through the fog that surrounded them. I stared at the sight before me in awe. Only one creature in the Forest could have produced such a marvel. A faint rustle of leaves reached my ears, and I slowly turned. Staring out of the fog was a single massive eye, a vibrant orange ring surrounding a pupil bigger than my head and darker than a starless night. Immediately I dropped to one knee and bowed my head. The eye blinked and moved in closer, bringing with it a beak that looked sharp enough to slice me in half with the barest scratch. Fortunately, though, the Lord of the Forest didn’t seem to be in a slicing mood. Instead, he clucked softly, offering a greeting and not a threat. I rose. “It is an honor, my Lord.” Only thrice before had I ever laid eyes on the great bird, and never had I seen him so close. He clucked again. I nodded silently and turned back into the fog. Within moments I could see nothing but gray. ----------------------------------- Entry #11: "Refuge" Everyone's a refugee at some point in their livesIt takes a lot less than war and famine to drive you out of a home, in search of something better,Sometimes we all overdose on life a little, or a lot,Sometimes we need to escape the pain of heartbreak, but mostly it's the pain of hiding behind a mask,Watching from behind a window, pawing at the glass and wishing you could get out there and be free.Life doesn't happen, it never does except to those who don't want it.Here I am hiding behind my walls hearing the muffled joy, wanting to reach out,But I'm blocked by wood and paint, in my little office,Chained to my doghouse. Today is the World Series of repression, and I'm a proEveryday is a fresh start that starts as a beautiful fruit, rotting from the inside,Until tonight I peel the orange and find the flies have got to it,And it has me going bananas. How I can't CHANGE!What if I never do, what will I ever do?God, help me from my hospital bed, spread the sheets and sign the cast no more,Cause I'm breaking free!I'm going, away from this pressure cooker and into the fire!No stress in this frying pan though, it's all hot and coolIn the kitchen where I belong. No living dead where I'm going,No zombies of the first world will feast on my brain today,No more vampires sucking all my blood away!To say nothing of the Mosquitos.No more nonsense, I'm combing it all out like the tanglesThat flee from the no more tangles conditioner, today there shall beNo more tears!No red eyes or tired minds in my refugee camp,I don't want any piece of your mind where I'm going, justPeace of mind.I'm going to the red tents in the green hills, the shades of a bouquet,That sits like a blossom pollinating my life, welcoming the overworked beeTo feast on some honey, no price, no fee.I'm a wise old man with my life blowing away,And I'm sitting in my tent, just waiting to sayTo all those lost fools how I broke freeFrom my life and battles plaguing me.Today I'm a refugee. ----------------------------------- Entry #12: "The Flower-Ship" Flower-Ships are native fauna of the planet Vogrius. Xenoarchaeologists commonly considered them to represent the zenith of the ancient Vogrians' work in the field of botanotechnology. Though all intelligent life on the planet was long extinct, their creations lived on, blooming amidst the ruins of their civilizations.No human scientists professed to understand the science behind the making of the Flower-Ships, though many human pilots had successfully controlled them. They began simply as buds growing out of the forest floor. As they grew, however, the buds developed into massive green spheres, and finally, the outer cover fell away, revealing the sleek one-man craft within. Each ship held one humanoid pilot, and though their controls were alien, there appeared to be a telepathic component to flying them which made the feat not only possible but in some ways intuitive. They were said to be the greatest individual spacecraft known to humanity. People hunted for them for many different reasons. Some were professionals, spending their lives obtaining rare goods like the Flower-Ships for the price they could get at auction. Some were hired teams, for men who wanted ships and were rich enough to get others to do the work for them. Some, like Charles Alcock, just wanted to fly.The legends concerning the Flower-Ships had fascinated the young space pilot since childhood. What's more, if he was lucky enough to actually find one, he would finally possess a ship of his very own at no more expense than his ticket to Vogrius. Interstellar law stated that any man who found a Flower-Ship and severed its stem became the owner, unless he had previously signed away his rights. So Charles, along with a ship full of fellow prospectors, had flown to Vogrius. He was now in his third week of hunting. He had found two already, but they hadn't suited him. Stories said once you had picked a Flower-Ship and flown in it, ship and pilot were inseparably bound together. He wanted no regrets when he had his ship. So he pushed on through the Vogrian jungle, searching for any sign of another ship. Was that a flash of color to the left? He turned, pushed his way forward a few more steps...and stopped dead. Before him was one of the small clearings left by an eroded bud-shield. The remaining green ribs arched inward around the edge, and in the center sat his ship.As soon as he saw this one, he knew it was his. Slim and curving, the gleaming surface seemed to be primarily orange with purple highlights, although the way the colors blended into each other made it hard to reach a definite conclusion, and its upper surfaces were covered in lighter-toned foliage patterns. A shaft of light struck the ship from above, making it almost glow in the pale sunlight, and all Charles Alcock could think as he looked at it was,She's beautiful. He ran one finger along a smooth curve. "Hello, flower," he said, smiling. "We've got some flying to do." ----------------------------------- Entry #13: "Hunt" I'm running. Harder than I ever have, and hopefully harder than I ever will. The human body really is amazing, isn't it? When it comes to impressing girls, it'll lock up and prevent you from moving even a few steps. But when it's a matter of life and death, suddenly you become your own little Superman. You run faster, jump higher. Sadly, though, there usually aren't any girls to impress in these moments. Like right now. I'm running, but I'm all alone. Or rather, without companions. Because try as I might, I won't be alone, not until I leave this jungle. My hunter's still stalking me, playing this real life version of The Most Dangerous Game. He's Zaroff, I'm Rainsford. He's got the advantage, I have nothing but my own wits. And a human body. “Oh, Mr. Lancaster? Dear Mr. Lancaster, where are you?” At least he doesn't have his hounds. I've never been very athletic, so really, the above comparison wasn't too accurate. I've never hunted, let alone been hunted. I have no clue about how to make traps, how to obtain food, and so on. I don't stand a chance. This won't end with me sleeping in the best bed I've ever slept in, unless one counts a crude grave as “the best bed one can ever sleep in.” I run deeper into the jungle. It's dark, all of the Sun's light being blocked off by the canopy above. I can barely see. All I can make out are the tree trunks ahead. My body's losing power. Even Superman goes down after a while. Getting tired. Can't run. Need...to..slow down. I collapse. It's over, I can't go on. My captor has me. Except he doesn't. I hear no sound. But I do notice something. A glint of light up ahead. Could it be him with a flashlight? I wait, lowering the sound of my breathing as I do so. My chest hurts, my lungs feel punctured. But this is life or death, and I can't lose. The light doesn't move. It's a set source. Could it be salvation? It's either try or die in this situation. I vote try. After five minutes, I pick myself up and walk towards the light into a lush, green meadow. The trees decided to let light shine through in this area, and for the better. The circular area is skirted by beautiful trees, their leaves turning the light into a dazzling lightning green. There's the outlying darkness, but it contrasts so well with the green that it adds to the picture. And in the middle of it all is something beautiful: a large plant, red and laced with white flowers. It beckons to me. It calls to me. Come, rest, take a break. He'll never find you here. You deserve this. My body's too tired to let my resolve control it. Without any hint of doubt, I walk over and plop down into the plant's cushiony, sofa-y middle. Then it begins. The petals rise up and trap me inside. I struggle to get out, but to no avail; I'm trapped. Stuck. Liquid starts rising, smelling terrible. Some form of digestive juice. Years of science have taught me that. But they didn't teach me to watch out for suspiciously placed plants. “Oh, Mr. Lancaster. I expected better of a highly regarded scientist. You almost gave me a good hunt. Almost. Alas, it's sad it ended this way. Good bye.” I'll never sleep in the best of beds. Unless if a plant's belly is the best of beds. Granted, it is pretty soft.

And thus concludes the Bionicle portion of this contest! Don't forget to vote in the polls! The Glass polls are still open, and the Paradise polls just went up.

Vote here for your favorite Paradise story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 8th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Paradise Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll. Choice #1: "Medicine Man" “Fine — look — I’ll give you a roll from my dinner. I saved it.”Kenari’s lupine grin, visible as a gleam even in the darkness below the ship Rogue’s deck, was a clear rejection to the offer.The hunchbacked prisoner who had given the offer, a Toa whose face and body were covered in grime, tensed his shoulders in frustration and ground his teeth together. One twisted hand became a fist. A pause — “S’all I have to give,” he grunted, his fist uncurling but his fingers still tense.Kenari didn’t move from where he sat against the wall, not even as the ship shifted and water sloshed outside. “You’re in no position to bargain,” said the Toa of Lightning.The prisoner growled. “Karzahni’d have fun with you.”Kenari lifted his eyebrows, calling the prisoner’s bluff. “I’m sure he would.”Another growl; this time, however, a roll was pressed into Kenari’s hand. He held it to his face and sniffed. Satisfied it wasn’t old, he pocketed it and gestured for the Toa to sit beside him, then placed his hand on the back of the Toa’s neck and closed his eyes.“What do you want this time?”“An island.”“That’s awfully little for me to go on.”“Fine. Make it a small one — in the middle of the ocean — like, coconut trees or something. Gukkos. Daytime.”The prisoner’s brain, just like any other being’s brain, operated using electricity. Kenari took that electricity and rerouted the signals so they would return to the brain, then took control with his Great Mahiki. The combination was such that the prisoner, after entering a stupor, only twitched his eyelids and the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t even here, really, if you thought about it.Oh, the lengths people go to find a paradise...Though simple when outlined, the delicate maneuvers Kenari had to perform to maintain the hallucination were tiring. It was like a dance: a tweak here, a twist there, and match the Toa’s brain waves. That fellow prisoner could’ve just gone to sleep and hoped to dream, but he wanted a sure thing. That was how Kenari, otherwise an unassuming character, survived in the brig of the Rogue.If only someone could place him under...After the set time of seven minutes, Kenari released his concentration, gasping, and regained his composure before the prisoner fully awoke. The other Toa stood, gruff once more but faintly abashed, and strode back to his claustrophobic cot without saying anything to, or even looking at, Kenari.The Toa of Lightning remained where he sat before as if nothing had happened, smiling a bit as if enjoying a private joke. Illusions didn’t have to be mental. ------------------------------------ Choice #2: "The Fall of Paradise" "It will always be like this," I said. "Just the two of us together." "Always!" she agreed. She pointed suddenly off to the distance. When I turned, she pulled my Kanohi down over my eyes and ran off, laughing. The first memory came back to me with a half-warm, half-cold jolt. What I experienced when I returned to Karda-Nui for the first time, I have never told anyone. The memories were too painful. I had chased after her and caught her by the wrist, holding it tight. "Always?" Gavla straightened my Kanohi. "Always, Takua." --- Those were the happiest days in my memory. And what can I say about them now? It's strange, how good things are so difficult to tell of; yet things that are miserable are easy to describe, and take so much telling. Those were the early days, when there was much work to do every day in constructing the universe; but Gavla and I would always find time together to walk through our gardens alone, in our private paradise. It was beautiful. And so was she. I've inscribed countless words on the walls of history telling of terrible tragedies, but of the times of peace, what could I say? "They were happy . . . until, all too soon, they were not." --- "What do you mean, we shouldn't let them put the Makuta in charge?" "Exactly what I say!" she insisted. "We were here first! Toa should be masters and guardians over the universe, not these codeless shapeshifters." "But why?" "They have too much power. I don't trust them. If we became Toa--" "Toa? Us?" "Yes! If we became Toa, maybe--maybe--" "Maybe what? Gavla, that's not our Duty. The Great Beings gave us our own purpose." She scowled. "Forget it. I knew you wouldn't understand. Let's talk about something else." I reached for her hand but she pulled away. Nevertheless, even in silence, we walked side by side through the gardens, and I couldn't help but cherish each moment. --- As we became busier we saw less of each other. Still, when there were no other distractions, it was just her and me. And that was special to me. I remember those days when we would walk, side by side; when we would talk, word by word; when we would laugh, smile by smile. And those days--oh, those wonderful days, oh so long ago, meant everything to me . . . That's just it, isn't it? They meant everything to me, but they won't mean anything to you. Misery likes company. That can be shared. But it's hard to share bliss. It's too bad that there aren't more words for joy, and fewer for sorrow. --- "I have--unfortunate news--Takua, sir." "Yes?" I turned to the messenger. "She's--disappeared. And she's taken the Toa Stones." Somewhere in my chest a spring tightened. "Who?" --- The Toa Stones were recovered. But Gavla wasn't. Not really. She was never the same after that. She was punished; she was forgiven; she came to be respected again. I tried more than once to make things right, but--how often the offended is the quickest to forgive, while the offender is pitiless! --- "Gavla. We need to talk." She ignored me. "I'm leaving Karda-Nui." "Good for you." "Gavla, I'd like to say--" "If you're expecting a tearful goodbye, save your breath." "I won't see you again--for a long time. I'd like to think, before I go--" "That was always the problem with you. Too much thinking! For once in your life Takua, don't look first, and don’t look back. Just leap." --- Her words changed my life. I never forgot them. Still, I can't help but wonder if I took the right leap. Destiny is whimsical. Would ours have been different, if instead of following orders I had followed her advice then and there, and took a different leap? All these millennia--was that what she wanted? --- For the first time since I had turned away from Karda-Nui, I was looking down on all I had once shared with Gavla. Things had changed--more than I ever could have imagined . . . But had they--so much? I was here to save the universe, but I was here for another reason . . . --- "It will always be like this." "Always. It's our Destiny, Takua." ------------------------------------ Choice #3: "My Paradise" Darkness. Pitch, black darkness was all I could see, it surrounded me, engulfed me. More than that, the darkness was me and I was the darkness. However those fools were unable to see the beauty, the truth I saw. They weren’t willing to accept that my darkness was a good a thing. They continued to cling to their heroes of light hoping they would drive me back. They had their own foolish definition of paradise and my own world was rendered a curse. They just couldn’t understand my joy. The foolish Matoran only clung to my brother, even the one’s I saved abandoned me soon after. They were all ungrateful and they all traitors. No matter how many futures I saw, it was always the same. They always left me, they always refused my gifts. So I sent them off to a different, lesser land but beautiful none the less. I had hoped that they would then see the beauty of the paradise I lived in. Unfortunately then the Turaga turned on me, once they had helped me help their Matoran, but now they had just abandoned me, refused to let me continue helping them. They were all fools! How could they not see how I was helping them, were they really that blind? Then it began to dawn upon me, it must’ve been my brother’s fault. He was twisting everything, making it appear as though their world was a lovely place and making my own so horrible Matoran thought it was the worst place to possibly end up in. What was wrong with them all! Oh I can see it now, that arrogant brother of mine is always trying to rip everything away from me, he won’t allow the Matoran to see my land for the beauty it is. He was just jealous, so he claims that my darkness was an evil, terrible place. He is wrong; my world is greatest land that has ever existed. I created this! I didn’t even need any help from some stupid mask. My land isn’t evil; my land is a place for Matoran to get better. They come here broken, but after my help, they leave stronger. Yes, yes, yes! My land is the best in the world, why would anyone ever want to leave, in fact I won’t let them! They love it here after all, they don’t want to leave so I won’t allow them to. They will love it here, more so than any land my brother has created. This is a beautiful paradise they will never leave! Yes, I am Karzhani and I have carved out Paradise with my own two hands! ------------------------------------ Choice #4: "Light" If you asked a Matoran about what they considered “paradise,” they'd no doubt point to their own Wahi. Occasionally you'd get the odd one who called another Wahi paradise, and maybe one or two who preferred the exact opposite of what their compatriots did. But for the most part, everyone had a consistent definition of Paradise: the place best suited to my own natural elemental alignment. And on Mata Nui, each Wahi was not lacking in its element. Of course, one can only know as far as one has learned, and the extent of the Matoran's knowledge was Mata Nui. After the Matoran Sphere mass-mindwipe, no one remembered Metru Nui, or any island in the Matoran Universe for that matter. Takua pondered his lack of knowledge. He was the only one out of all the Matoran on Mata Nui who did not consider anywhere “paradise.” There was nowhere right for him. Ta-Wahi was too hot, Le-Wahi too jungle-y, Ko-Wahi too cold, Ga-Wahi too wet, Onu-Wahi too dark, and Po-Wahi too dusty. Takua did not know it, but he was an Av-Matoran. His place belonged with light. So he absolutely hated Onu-Wahi. Ta-Wahi was the closest he could get to light. But that's not what he was pondering. He pondered how he couldn't think of the best place for him. How his lack of knowledge about everything, even his twice-amnesiac self, prevented him from discovering the true paradise he sought. “Guess it's time for an adventure.” How else was he supposed to find his paradise? And so he strapped on his backpack, got his gear, and set off with his buddy Pewku. The thing is, even amnesia can't stop internal tendencies. Av-Matoran will always try and follow the light. So when Takua decided to start at Ta-Wahi, he noticed light shining from behind a boulder. Rolling it aside (with considerable effort and a botched attempt at his new Kolhii move), Takua dropped into a cave. Lava flowed in a river in front of him, and beyond that...beyond that was the thing. The thing that his internal voice sought. It was a rock. On a glowing pedestal. But something about the rock seemed...different. Like he could find his paradise if only he took it along. Beckoning for Pewku to stay, Takua began hopping on rocks on the river. All the while nearing his paradise. He'd find his paradise. If only he got that rock. His inner voice beckoned him further. Take it. Take the rock. It's your paradise. It's your destiny. “TAKUA!” ------------------------------------

Vote here for your favorite Paradise story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 8th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Paradise Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll. Choice #1: "He Got It from the Discount Aisle" “Well this is shameful.” “I’ll say.” (Gosh, Artakha! Such a mythical, wonderful place of rest for hard-working Matoran. And hey, no boring work! It might as well be paradise. So…this was Artakha?) “I don’t think this is Artakha, Moden.” “Ridiculous. Didn’t you see the sign? The sign said Artakha. It was on the sign. ‘Artakha.’ In big fat round letters.” “No, I know but, this…wasn’t this meant to be a sort of paradise realm?” “It’s not…that…bad.” “Yes. Yes it is. We were promised something more paradise…ey. Paradisical? Parasitical. Paradispy? Paradingy.” “You done?” “Paradissiful?” “I think the proper term is paradical.” “That doesn’t sound right at all.” “Either way, I don’t disagree that this is a poor fit for our expectations, but maybe they were just too high.” “Moden?” “Yes, Qoroo?” “The ground is screaming. The freaking ground is literally freaking screaming right now. That the ground not be screaming is not ‘high expectations,’ unless you are seriously deranged.” “…You’re right. This is just…wrong.” “Right.” “…but maybe we’ll get used to it!” “Moden.” “Yes?” “Are you listening to me?” “Yes.” “You are acting like a total imbecile right now.” “That’s harsh, brother.” “We are not staying here, and I don’t care what the sign says, this isn’t Artakha!” (So I suppose we’re leaving. Qoroo is right, obviously. This…place can’t possibly be Artakha. It’s preposterous. And we simply cannot stay. But…what can we do? My arm won’t work. Qoroo doesn’t say anything, but I know his eye pains him, and his foot must be killing him. The trip here was hard enough. Where will we go?) “What are those?” “I…think we should head back.” “Now that, my young friends, is a wonderful idea!” (This day just keeps getting better. Monster crabs. Gold and black-armored giants. Just. Great day.) “Tell me, good Matoran, why would you ever want to leave my realm? Isn’t it wonderful?” “Sir, no disrespect, but we were seeking Artakha.” “Artakha? Why would you ever want to go to that awful place? This here is Karzahni! A brighter paradise couldn’t have been imagined by the Great Beings themselves.” “So this isn’t Artakha! I knew it.” “Why would you ever think my realm was anything like that terrible island?” “Uh. It was the sign, sir. The sign that said Artakha.” “Oh, that old thing? I thought I tore it down ages ago. Oh, but I’m ever so sorry to have misled you with my sign. That was unfortunate…or rather, rather fortunate. Now you have the chance to stay on Karzahni, which is far superior! Indeed, follow me!” (That…guy… has gotten all excited and run ahead. Me, I can’t figure it out. This place…how can it possibly be a paradise, by any standard?) “That guy is insane.” “I noticed.” “Where did he even get this ‘paradise’?” “I don’t know. But wherever he got it…” “He got ripped off.” “Yeah. I know.” ------------------------------------ Choice #2: "Paradise" Paradise. It's an ideal, a virtue, a dream. It's a beautiful ideology of a utopia, a place where everyone is happy and no one has to feel alone or excluded. A place where people can live their dreams and do what they love. Paradise. It's a thing that beings always strive for. Any land full of abundance and peace could be considered a paradise. Any place where beings are happy and prosperous and joyous is a paradise. Paradise. It's a thing that many beings have fought and died for. Beings who believed so strongly in their ideals and cared so much for their people that they were willing to make the ultimate sacrifices in order to achieve the dream, if only temporarily. If only to hold back the crushing grip of darkness for a time, that people can live in light for as long as there are heroes to fight for it. Paradise. Who wouldn't want to live there? A place where hard work, perseverance, and dedication can make miracles happen? A place where your dreams can literally come true? Unless you want to live in Fairy-Land. Sorry, but without a mask of Interdimensional Gates I don't think it's gonna happen. But then, if that's your shtick and you want to work hard enough to come by such a mask, then more power to you. Paradise. Seriously, who wouldn't love utopia? A place where everyone's a brother and a sister and where each has personal responsibility of some form or another to preserve the sanctity of the society. A place where people are free to work hard in the way they choose, where no one will offer negativity but always encouragement. Unless you're the type who likes to be challenged, in that case I'm sure they can offer that, too. A place where hard work is always rewarded in more ways than one and every moment of every day is filled with joy and peace and beauty of some variety. Paradise. A place where everyone is family, and everyone is pure and good. This is my dream. This is what I fight for. This is what I've always fought for. This is what I lead warriors into battle for. This is why I lead my fellow Matoran against the tide of darkness, to strike in the name of righteousness in this paradoxical world. This is why I'm willing to die if need be, or to live if need be, to preserve the reality of my dream. This is why I die every day and bear tremendous burden. This is why my fellows possess undying loyalty to me and my cause. This is why we brave the shadows where no one else is willing to go. I'm surrounded by war and violence, chaos and destruction. Every moment is filled with fear and doubt. Yet every moment is filled with joy and honor. Because I know what I am fighting for: Paradise. What are you fighting for? ------------------------------------ Choice #3: "Paradise? What Paradise?" A paradise. That was what they called this island. A paradise. Agni wouldn’t currently call it a paradise. It felt more like Karzahni. It was raining; the downpour drenched Agni and turned the ground around him to mud. He was wet and cold and miserable. Normally he wouldn’t feel like this in Ta-Wahi. In fact, those in Ta-Koro were not in such a state. The heat of the lava around them turned much of the rain to steam, and even then, the fact that they had roofed huts protected them from the precipitation. But Agni was not in Ta-Koro. Instead, he a guard was stationed in the burnt forest, on the lookout for Rahi. The remains of the trees offered no cover from the torrential rains. Winds swept across the land and sprayed the rain water through his mask and into his eyes. This was not what paradise was supposed to be like. Agni heard something hit the ground nearby. Perhaps one of the dead trees had fallen over into the mud. He trudged through the muck towards the sound, but froze at the sight of a Kane-Ra. The mighty bull Rahi was crawling through the mud, heading towards Ta-Koro. And it was not alone. Sand Tarakava and Nui-Jaga followed behind it, trudging through the tread marks in the mud left by the Kane-Ra. That was another reason why this island wasn’t a paradise; there were too many infected Rahi out to get the Matoran. Agni spun around and started to run towards the village. He needed to warn them of the oncoming attack. But his feet sunk deep into the mud, and make loud slurping noises every time he took a step. Even with the roar of the storm, the noise was enough to get the Kane-Ra’s attention. It sighted the Matoran and changed direction. At least the Rahi weren’t going to attack the village first, Agni thought. They would get him instead. He tried to run faster, but the mud slowed him down, and the rain water clouded his vision. The Rahi were closing in behind them, but they were also slowed by the mud and the storm. Unfortunately, the Kane-Ra was able to power through it faster than the Ta-Matoran. Agni cursed to himself as he pushed on. He was done for. He was a well trained guard, but the storm was hampering his abilities to run and fight. The Rahi would surely get him. And then, what would it all be for? To protect this island paradise? It wasn’t worth it. Agni stumbled one last time, and fell mask first into the mud. He was barely able to pull himself out before the Kane-Ra caught up to him. The beast roared, and snapped its head forward, where it would break Agni’s body with its horns. But something struck it mid-stride, and the beast drew back. A volley of bamboo discs flew threw the air with the raindrops, striking the Kane-Ra’s infected masks and knocking them off. With a final grunt, the now uninfected beast decided to retreat from the mud and seek shelter elsewhere. The Sand Tarakava and Nui-Jaga fled from the mighty bull, now that it was no longer their ally and leader. The Rahi would be back, but not until after the storm had abated. Agni pushed himself up, and although his vision was blurry, he could see the squad of Ta-Matoran walking towards him. Another of the guardsmen had sighted the Kane-Ra chasing him, and had gathered a resistance to fight the Rahi back. Had Agni not diverted the Rahi’s attention, they would’ve managed a successful sneak attack on the gates of Ta-Koro. The other Guards helped Agni out of the mud and led him back to the warmth and shelter of the village. After all, Agni was their comrade and friend, and they had gone out of their way to help him. An Agni knew he would do the same for all of them. No, this island wasn’t a paradise, Agni thought. It was full of dangers and discomfort. But he had good friends on this island, and they were worth fighting for. He could tough it out with them. And together, they could build their own paradise. ------------------------------------ Choice #4: "Ten years" Paradise island. Lush trees, singing Rahi, adventure hiding behind every bush, tree, mountain. Mystery in every cave, secrets frozen in the glaciers. Peace and unity in every Koro, love in the hearts of the Matoran. There's no place like Mata Nui.A great city like no other, Matoran fill the streets, hard working to keep peace. Automated police patrol the streets, enforcing order. A prospering enterprise, the headquarters of the universe. Metru Nui.A savage island, weathered by strong-willed inhabitants. Raging seas all around, a raging volcano within. Danger and adventure always guaranteed. A treasure of immeasurable worth below untamed Voya Nui.Mahri Nui. A township like no other, survived by sheer will, awaits below sparkling waves. Fear creeps from the deep, the darkness of the ocean, the recesses of the Pit.The Great Heart, the life force of the universe; Karda Nui. A deep caved choked with light, the delicate candle of the world flickering, shrinking, challenged by sliding shadows.A desert beyond the universe, a world united, Bara Magna becomes Spherus Magna once again, suffering ended and strife over. A world to explore, a universe to discover, and possibilities endless.Paradise. Adventure. Bionicle. ------------------------------------

Vote here for your favorite Paradise story; entries have been randomized. Please MAKE SURE YOU READ ALL ENTRIES BEFORE VOTING.Voting begins now and will end on July 8th at 11:59 PM EST. Entries that do well will move on to the Paradise Final Poll, which will be posted at the conclusion of the 10th round preliminary poll. Choice #1: "The Agori and the Turaga" It had been so long. The stars were bright and glittered in the sky like shattered crystal, while the moons were like two mothers looking down on their children, holding them close but letting them roam free. The Agori found a spot by the lake near the Water Village where she was temporarily staying and sat down, removing some of her heavy armour and resting for a short while. Kadnin remembered her past, and the pain that was felt not just by her, but by every Agori in Bara Magna. The Matoran and Toa had it easier, but they also had their fair share of troubles and harm. She wasn't so sure on the other species of the Matoran Universe. Life had been quieter than what she had expected. Little Agori rarely checked under their beds for the monster that was really in their heads. She could live in peace with a nice girl, and maybe settle down and raise a family. All of this speculation had her aching for anything to happen, something to drive this little life she lead along. Spherus Magna was less dangerous than before, and nobody was killing anyone yet. The paint of silence seemed to have been brushed over the past, but that was the only thing she would care for right now. "Kadnin." She looked up. The Turaga of Water - Nokama, maybe - was standing over her. To say that the Agori did not trust her would be incorrect, but she felt a vague sense of wariness around anyone without enough organic parts. Kadnin patted the ground beside her lazily, and Nokama slowly sat down, laying her trident by her side. "So, why aren't ya sleepin'?" she asked, putting her hands behind her head and streching out. "I have not felt very tired for a long time," replied the Turaga. Kadnin raised an eyebrow. "That ain't healthy." Exhaling, she smiled. "I have lived like this for a long time, so I don't think I need to stop." The Agori jumped up. "Yes, ya do. We ain't on Bara Magna or Metru Nui anymore. This is a new world, and we can't mess this one up as well. Come with me." Nokama stood carefully, and was about to pick up her trident when Kadnin blocked her hand. "Nuh uh. We ain't takin' what we don't need." "What do we need, then?" asked Nokama, humouring her. "Both hands." - The fruit was bountiful and mostly safe to eat. Kadnin took small tastes of each one, determining which ones were good for the Turaga to take. Both finished their jobs with arms full of food with varying firmness and colours. They made their way back to the lakeside with amiable conversation filling the silence. When they had returned, Kadnin had flopped down onto her back and bitten into a succulent fruit. The juices ran down her chin and onto her chest and the Agori let out a rare giggle because, Nokama realised, for one night neither had worried about the future or the past, and both worked together in harmonious unity. The Turaga joined Kadnin in finishing off the pile of fruit that they had gathered together. They were found the next morning by a couple of worried Ga-Matoran, who were quite surprised at their elder's happiness. They were joined by Kadnin, who carried the remaining fruit in a makeshift basket made from her non-vital armour. Nokama wasn't tired much anymore. ------------------------------------ Choice #2: "Life Outside Paradise" "Mata Nui, our Great Spirit, has renewed the life of this planet!" Turaga Vakama proclaimed to the crowd of Matoran recently emerged from the robot's head. "He has given this new world to us and the peoples of Spherus Magna, that we may build a new life - a life free from the tyranny of the Makuta!"Some of the Matoran cheered at that. For a thousand years, as long as they could remember, these villagers had lived under the shadow of Makuta's attacks upon them. Perhaps now, they hoped, they could finally forget his darkness.The Turaga's speech drew to a close. "I ask you, my people," he concluded, "to honor all who fought and sacrificed for this day, whether they are living or dead -" the Ko-Matoran fell especially silent then "- to do all in your power to preserve this new paradise we have been given, and, above all, to continue to uphold the Unity which has brought the villagers of Mata Nui so far." The six villages erupted into cheers.As the crowd began to disperse, a Ga-Matoran murmured to her neighbor, "Am I the only one waiting for infected Rahi to jump out of the forest?""What do you think-mean, Macku?" the green Matoran asked, tilting his head to one side. His name was Tamaru, and they had been friends since the formation of the Chronicler's Company."Oh, nothing," Macku shrugged. "It's just the Turaga's speech reminded me of the one he gave us when we first came to the island. The legend said itwas a paradise given to us by Mata Nui too. It wasn't exactly perfect, was it?""True-right you are," Tamaru agreed. "But this world-place he did make to give to us, at least. And there will be no dark-slave Rahi here with him dead-gone." He did not have to specify whom he meant.Macku sighed. "Yeah, we can be grateful for that all right. But...I don't know...it just seems like people keep saying this place or that place is 'paradise', when really, they're just...places. I loved the island of Mata Nui - I still miss it sometimes - but I never thought it was perfect. There was a lot of work just to live, and dangerous Rahi that weren't even infected, and other Matoran got on my nerves and I probably got on theirs. It was just normal life!"And I heard Turaga Vakama once said Metru Nui seemed like paradise to them before. Didn't it have robot guards to enforce all its strict laws? It wasn't much like paradise when we got back there, either. I suppose it was our real home, but it was also a city-sized pile of rubble, that we had to put back together. Life actually seemed a lot worse than on Mata Nui."And I've heard that 'Artahka' place they talk about isn't so wonderful either. So I'm not really sure what the Turaga mean when they say this new place is a 'paradise,' too."Tamaru had listened attentively. Now he grinned at her. "All true, water-sister. I f you want a place free from all the evil-bad parts, I'm afraid we'll have to wait till some other life-world."He threw a stick he had picked up into the air and caught it again. "But now we've got light, fear-freeness, a world full of life-beauty and everyone from Metru Nui to work-help each other. I'm joy-happy with that."Macku smiled, bad mood blown away on the fresh breeze of Le-Matoran philosophy. "I suppose you've got a point, Tamaru." She looked around: the bright sun of her Ga-Koro days above, a lush world around her, and almost all her comrades within her sight. "Yeah. I guess this is good enough for now." ------------------------------------ Choice #3: "Passing Through Paradise" The sun blazes down, scorching the back of my neck. The sand beneath me is blistering; I feel as though I’m walking barefoot on a frying pan. My mouth burns; my throat is dry as cotton – it’s been forty-eight hours since I poured the last drop of water in my canteen through my chapped lips. The pack on my back seems as heavy as an obese kikanalo; with every step I take it threatens to pull me to the ground. But I trudge on. Where I’m going is not important – all you must know is that this desert lies between me and my destination. I have lost count of the years I’ve spent out here, pushing ever onward towards my goal. Years? you question. Yes, I know. It amazes me as well, sometimes, when I pause to contemplate it. I am no Toa; I claim no great powers to ease the path before me. I am but a Matoran, a single, weak being alone in a sea of sand. But my goal lies ahead, and I must reach it. And because I must do so, I will. I reach the crest of the dune and halt for a brief moment to observe the landscape. Sand. More sand. And, off in the distance, a small dark speck. It is not until hours later that the speck becomes a narrow swath of green in the midst of the endless tan. An oasis. A sliver of paradise in a world of endless pain. It is hours still before I reach it, but at last the sand turns to grass beneath my feet. The foliage radiates from a pool of water, deep and clear. I unshoulder my pack by its shore, dip my canteen into its depths. The water is cool and pure, life in the midst of death. I fill the vessel and seat myself beneath a towering palm, the tree shielding me, protecting me from the merciless sun. As I drink I dig my feet into the ground, relishing the feel of grass between my toes. I finish off the canteen and turn to the tree, wrapping my arms around its long, limbless trunk and pulling myself upwards. I manage the climb on willpower alone; my strength, certainly, is not sufficient to carry me to the top. I draw my knife and cut free a cluster of bananas before dropping to the ground myself. I peel one of the fruits and eat it slowly, enjoying the sweetness that fills my mouth and the fullness that barely begins to fill my belly. I continue in this manner for the remainder of the day – drinking, sitting, climbing, eating. At dusk I curl up on the ground, grateful to be able to sleep on the soft grass rather than my coarse bedroll. The next morning I wake, bathe, and begin again my routine of eating and drinking. I have gone long without water and longer without food; my energy must be replenished. I search the rest of the oasis, finding nuts, berries, and more fruits. No rahi have made their homes here, it seems, which is somewhat unfortunate – meat it would’ve been nice to have a bit of meat. Nonetheless, I gather what I can and return to the pool. The next day, too, follows a similar pattern, but with the added task of drying and preserving any food I can find. By the end of the day my supplies have been replenished. I wake the following morning and bathe quickly before refilling each of my canteens. I take a final sip of the pool’s cool water before shouldering my pack. An hour later the sun is again scorching my neck; the sand is again blistering my feet. My throat is again dry and my lips are again chapped. Again my pack threatens to drag me to the ground. Paradise is behind. My goal is ahead. ------------------------------------ Choice #4: "Gainful Employment" A rowboat bumped against the shining steel dock of Artakha’s southern shore. The Av-Matoran in it hopped out gracefully, a single small pack slung over her shoulders as her only luggage. Without stopping to look around, she began to stroll along the dock towards the gate that separated it from the shining city beyond. At the gate, an Onu-Matoran stepped from the guardhouse and raised a hand to halt her. “Halt. Your name and purpose.” The Av-Matoran smiled serenely. “My name is Enea. I have come to work here.” The Ta-Matoran shook his head and sighed. “You aren’t the first. But I’m sorry – we don’t simply allow people to paddle up and start living here. We were chosen by Master Artakha for a reason.” “And don’t I deserve a chance to give him just such a reason?” The guard frowned. “Actually, the general policy on that front is no. The interest is appreciated, and it’s nothing personal, but I have to ask you to leave.” Her smile was unwavering. “And if I told you I had nowhere to return to?” “What do you mean?” “Tell me, have you heard of the Barraki?” The guard scratched his head. “Well… yeah. Yeah, they’re the warlords in charge of the rest of the universe.” She tipped her head and nodded, the smile growing. “Good. Then, have you heard of their campaigns?” The guard shuffled uncomfortably. “We don’t much concern ourselves with the politics of the rest of the universe.” “Very well, then. Allow me to explain. I was an island Matoran. I lived to the south of here, on a small island that was quite splendid in its own little way. We fished and made our own little industry with whatever traders came by. We even had a Toa, a wonderful Toa of Plasma who guarded us with all his heart.” A still sort of sweetness had entered her voice, and the guard found her gaze oddly unnerving. “It turns out we were supplying some war effort or other with our little trades. Oh, I’m not quite certain who, myself, but it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is what happened next, and what happened next was that one of the Barraki sent his army to ensure we wouldn’t make those trades again. Our Toa fought, he fought so very hard, and for that they clapped him in chains and took him away. That was years and years ago. “Then last month they came again, and they brought our Toa with them. He didn’t even look at us as he burned our land to ashes. I imagine they wanted to send a message of some sort, don’t you? “In any event, us survivors are quite adrift. Most everyone else is headed to other islands, or Metru Nui. I came here instead.” The smile again. “Is there a problem with that?” The guard swallowed nervously. “That’s- you have my sympathies, but-“ “But?” He drew himself up as best he could. “But Master Artakha’s word is absolute. I’m sorry, but you’re not wanted here.” “I see.” She sighed. “What was your name?” “P-Perdonus.” “Perdonus.” She smiled. “That’s a nice name. Perdonus, I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I’ve decided to come work here, and so I will. It’s really not up for debate.” The guard could feel himself tensing. “It doesn’t matter what you say-“ “Well, actions speak louder than words.” In a flash, she was moving – not the practiced grace of a trained warrior, but the raw determination of someone with something to prove. Perdonus had barely registered it before she sunk her fist into his stomach, and he collapsed to the ground. She strolled past him and towards the open guardhouse. A small receiver was hooked up to the wall. Enea plucked it from its cradle and spoke into it. “Hello? Master Artakha? I’m sure you saw that. Someone like you doesn’t actually rely on guards for watching his borders. I’ve come to work for you. I’m rather tired of all the wars, you see. I’d like to try my hand at creation. “And when the rest of the world comes knocking at your paradise’s door – I’d like to help you stand up to that. If your guard is any indication, you’re badly lacking in knowledgeable employees on that front. “That’s all. I’ll be outside.” She hung up the receiver, and, humming, walked back outside, past the still-wheezing Perdonus, seating herself on the edge of the dock. It was a lovely day. ------------------------------------

Polling period over; topic closed.

Polling period over; topic closed.

Polling period over; topic closed.

Theme #9: Paradise Entry #1: "Paradise" Paradise. It's an ideal, a virtue, a dream. It's a beautiful ideology of a utopia, a place where everyone is happy and no one has to feel alone or excluded. A place where people can live their dreams and do what they love. Paradise. It's a thing that beings always strive for. Any land full of abundance and peace could be considered a paradise. Any place where beings are happy and prosperous and joyous is a paradise. Paradise. It's a thing that many beings have fought and died for. Beings who believed so strongly in their ideals and cared so much for their people that they were willing to make the ultimate sacrifices in order to achieve the dream, if only temporarily. If only to hold back the crushing grip of darkness for a time, that people can live in light for as long as there are heroes to fight for it. Paradise. Who wouldn't want to live there? A place where hard work, perseverance, and dedication can make miracles happen? A place where your dreams can literally come true? Unless you want to live in Fairy-Land. Sorry, but without a mask of Interdimensional Gates I don't think it's gonna happen. But then, if that's your shtick and you want to work hard enough to come by such a mask, then more power to you. Paradise. Seriously, who wouldn't love utopia? A place where everyone's a brother and a sister and where each has personal responsibility of some form or another to preserve the sanctity of the society. A place where people are free to work hard in the way they choose, where no one will offer negativity but always encouragement. Unless you're the type who likes to be challenged, in that case I'm sure they can offer that, too. A place where hard work is always rewarded in more ways than one and every moment of every day is filled with joy and peace and beauty of some variety. Paradise. A place where everyone is family, and everyone is pure and good. This is my dream. This is what I fight for. This is what I've always fought for. This is what I lead warriors into battle for. This is why I lead my fellow Matoran against the tide of darkness, to strike in the name of righteousness in this paradoxical world. This is why I'm willing to die if need be, or to live if need be, to preserve the reality of my dream. This is why I die every day and bear tremendous burden. This is why my fellows possess undying loyalty to me and my cause. This is why we brave the shadows where no one else is willing to go. I'm surrounded by war and violence, chaos and destruction. Every moment is filled with fear and doubt. Yet every moment is filled with joy and honor. Because I know what I am fighting for: Paradise. What are you fighting for? ------------------------------------ Entry #2: "The Agori and the Turaga" It had been so long. The stars were bright and glittered in the sky like shattered crystal, while the moons were like two mothers looking down on their children, holding them close but letting them roam free. The Agori found a spot by the lake near the Water Village where she was temporarily staying and sat down, removing some of her heavy armour and resting for a short while. Kadnin remembered her past, and the pain that was felt not just by her, but by every Agori in Bara Magna. The Matoran and Toa had it easier, but they also had their fair share of troubles and harm. She wasn't so sure on the other species of the Matoran Universe. Life had been quieter than what she had expected. Little Agori rarely checked under their beds for the monster that was really in their heads. She could live in peace with a nice girl, and maybe settle down and raise a family. All of this speculation had her aching for anything to happen, something to drive this little life she lead along. Spherus Magna was less dangerous than before, and nobody was killing anyone yet. The paint of silence seemed to have been brushed over the past, but that was the only thing she would care for right now. "Kadnin." She looked up. The Turaga of Water - Nokama, maybe - was standing over her. To say that the Agori did not trust her would be incorrect, but she felt a vague sense of wariness around anyone without enough organic parts. Kadnin patted the ground beside her lazily, and Nokama slowly sat down, laying her trident by her side. "So, why aren't ya sleepin'?" she asked, putting her hands behind her head and streching out. "I have not felt very tired for a long time," replied the Turaga. Kadnin raised an eyebrow. "That ain't healthy." Exhaling, she smiled. "I have lived like this for a long time, so I don't think I need to stop." The Agori jumped up. "Yes, ya do. We ain't on Bara Magna or Metru Nui anymore. This is a new world, and we can't mess this one up as well. Come with me." Nokama stood carefully, and was about to pick up her trident when Kadnin blocked her hand. "Nuh uh. We ain't takin' what we don't need." "What do we need, then?" asked Nokama, humouring her. "Both hands." - The fruit was bountiful and mostly safe to eat. Kadnin took small tastes of each one, determining which ones were good for the Turaga to take. Both finished their jobs with arms full of food with varying firmness and colours. They made their way back to the lakeside with amiable conversation filling the silence. When they had returned, Kadnin had flopped down onto her back and bitten into a succulent fruit. The juices ran down her chin and onto her chest and the Agori let out a rare giggle because, Nokama realised, for one night neither had worried about the future or the past, and both worked together in harmonious unity. The Turaga joined Kadnin in finishing off the pile of fruit that they had gathered together. They were found the next morning by a couple of worried Ga-Matoran, who were quite surprised at their elder's happiness. They were joined by Kadnin, who carried the remaining fruit in a makeshift basket made from her non-vital armour. Nokama wasn't tired much anymore. ------------------------------------ Entry #3: "Light" If you asked a Matoran about what they considered “paradise,” they'd no doubt point to their own Wahi. Occasionally you'd get the odd one who called another Wahi paradise, and maybe one or two who preferred the exact opposite of what their compatriots did. But for the most part, everyone had a consistent definition of Paradise: the place best suited to my own natural elemental alignment. And on Mata Nui, each Wahi was not lacking in its element. Of course, one can only know as far as one has learned, and the extent of the Matoran's knowledge was Mata Nui. After the Matoran Sphere mass-mindwipe, no one remembered Metru Nui, or any island in the Matoran Universe for that matter. Takua pondered his lack of knowledge. He was the only one out of all the Matoran on Mata Nui who did not consider anywhere “paradise.” There was nowhere right for him. Ta-Wahi was too hot, Le-Wahi too jungle-y, Ko-Wahi too cold, Ga-Wahi too wet, Onu-Wahi too dark, and Po-Wahi too dusty. Takua did not know it, but he was an Av-Matoran. His place belonged with light. So he absolutely hated Onu-Wahi. Ta-Wahi was the closest he could get to light. But that's not what he was pondering. He pondered how he couldn't think of the best place for him. How his lack of knowledge about everything, even his twice-amnesiac self, prevented him from discovering the true paradise he sought. “Guess it's time for an adventure.” How else was he supposed to find his paradise? And so he strapped on his backpack, got his gear, and set off with his buddy Pewku. The thing is, even amnesia can't stop internal tendencies. Av-Matoran will always try and follow the light. So when Takua decided to start at Ta-Wahi, he noticed light shining from behind a boulder. Rolling it aside (with considerable effort and a botched attempt at his new Kolhii move), Takua dropped into a cave. Lava flowed in a river in front of him, and beyond that...beyond that was the thing. The thing that his internal voice sought. It was a rock. On a glowing pedestal. But something about the rock seemed...different. Like he could find his paradise if only he took it along. Beckoning for Pewku to stay, Takua began hopping on rocks on the river. All the while nearing his paradise. He'd find his paradise. If only he got that rock. His inner voice beckoned him further. Take it. Take the rock. It's your paradise. It's your destiny. “TAKUA!” ------------------------------------ Entry #4: "Medicine Man" “Fine — look — I’ll give you a roll from my dinner. I saved it.”Kenari’s lupine grin, visible as a gleam even in the darkness below the ship Rogue’s deck, was a clear rejection to the offer.The hunchbacked prisoner who had given the offer, a Toa whose face and body were covered in grime, tensed his shoulders in frustration and ground his teeth together. One twisted hand became a fist. A pause — “S’all I have to give,” he grunted, his fist uncurling but his fingers still tense.Kenari didn’t move from where he sat against the wall, not even as the ship shifted and water sloshed outside. “You’re in no position to bargain,” said the Toa of Lightning.The prisoner growled. “Karzahni’d have fun with you.”Kenari lifted his eyebrows, calling the prisoner’s bluff. “I’m sure he would.”Another growl; this time, however, a roll was pressed into Kenari’s hand. He held it to his face and sniffed. Satisfied it wasn’t old, he pocketed it and gestured for the Toa to sit beside him, then placed his hand on the back of the Toa’s neck and closed his eyes.“What do you want this time?”“An island.”“That’s awfully little for me to go on.”“Fine. Make it a small one — in the middle of the ocean — like, coconut trees or something. Gukkos. Daytime.”The prisoner’s brain, just like any other being’s brain, operated using electricity. Kenari took that electricity and rerouted the signals so they would return to the brain, then took control with his Great Mahiki. The combination was such that the prisoner, after entering a stupor, only twitched his eyelids and the corners of his mouth. He wasn’t even here, really, if you thought about it.Oh, the lengths people go to find a paradise...Though simple when outlined, the delicate maneuvers Kenari had to perform to maintain the hallucination were tiring. It was like a dance: a tweak here, a twist there, and match the Toa’s brain waves. That fellow prisoner could’ve just gone to sleep and hoped to dream, but he wanted a sure thing. That was how Kenari, otherwise an unassuming character, survived in the brig of the Rogue.If only someone could place him under...After the set time of seven minutes, Kenari released his concentration, gasping, and regained his composure before the prisoner fully awoke. The other Toa stood, gruff once more but faintly abashed, and strode back to his claustrophobic cot without saying anything to, or even looking at, Kenari.The Toa of Lightning remained where he sat before as if nothing had happened, smiling a bit as if enjoying a private joke. Illusions didn’t have to be mental. ------------------------------------ Entry #5: "My Paradise" Darkness. Pitch, black darkness was all I could see, it surrounded me, engulfed me. More than that, the darkness was me and I was the darkness. However those fools were unable to see the beauty, the truth I saw. They weren’t willing to accept that my darkness was a good a thing. They continued to cling to their heroes of light hoping they would drive me back. They had their own foolish definition of paradise and my own world was rendered a curse. They just couldn’t understand my joy. The foolish Matoran only clung to my brother, even the one’s I saved abandoned me soon after. They were all ungrateful and they all traitors. No matter how many futures I saw, it was always the same. They always left me, they always refused my gifts. So I sent them off to a different, lesser land but beautiful none the less. I had hoped that they would then see the beauty of the paradise I lived in. Unfortunately then the Turaga turned on me, once they had helped me help their Matoran, but now they had just abandoned me, refused to let me continue helping them. They were all fools! How could they not see how I was helping them, were they really that blind? Then it began to dawn upon me, it must’ve been my brother’s fault. He was twisting everything, making it appear as though their world was a lovely place and making my own so horrible Matoran thought it was the worst place to possibly end up in. What was wrong with them all! Oh I can see it now, that arrogant brother of mine is always trying to rip everything away from me, he won’t allow the Matoran to see my land for the beauty it is. He was just jealous, so he claims that my darkness was an evil, terrible place. He is wrong; my world is greatest land that has ever existed. I created this! I didn’t even need any help from some stupid mask. My land isn’t evil; my land is a place for Matoran to get better. They come here broken, but after my help, they leave stronger. Yes, yes, yes! My land is the best in the world, why would anyone ever want to leave, in fact I won’t let them! They love it here after all, they don’t want to leave so I won’t allow them to. They will love it here, more so than any land my brother has created. This is a beautiful paradise they will never leave! Yes, I am Karzhani and I have carved out Paradise with my own two hands! ------------------------------------ Entry #6: "He Got It from the Discount Aisle" “Well this is shameful.” “I’ll say.” (Gosh, Artakha! Such a mythical, wonderful place of rest for hard-working Matoran. And hey, no boring work! It might as well be paradise. So…this was Artakha?) “I don’t think this is Artakha, Moden.” “Ridiculous. Didn’t you see the sign? The sign said Artakha. It was on the sign. ‘Artakha.’ In big fat round letters.” “No, I know but, this…wasn’t this meant to be a sort of paradise realm?” “It’s not…that…bad.” “Yes. Yes it is. We were promised something more paradise…ey. Paradisical? Parasitical. Paradispy? Paradingy.” “You done?” “Paradissiful?” “I think the proper term is paradical.” “That doesn’t sound right at all.” “Either way, I don’t disagree that this is a poor fit for our expectations, but maybe they were just too high.” “Moden?” “Yes, Qoroo?” “The ground is screaming. The freaking ground is literally freaking screaming right now. That the ground not be screaming is not ‘high expectations,’ unless you are seriously deranged.” “…You’re right. This is just…wrong.” “Right.” “…but maybe we’ll get used to it!” “Moden.” “Yes?” “Are you listening to me?” “Yes.” “You are acting like a total imbecile right now.” “That’s harsh, brother.” “We are not staying here, and I don’t care what the sign says, this isn’t Artakha!” (So I suppose we’re leaving. Qoroo is right, obviously. This…place can’t possibly be Artakha. It’s preposterous. And we simply cannot stay. But…what can we do? My arm won’t work. Qoroo doesn’t say anything, but I know his eye pains him, and his foot must be killing him. The trip here was hard enough. Where will we go?) “What are those?” “I…think we should head back.” “Now that, my young friends, is a wonderful idea!” (This day just keeps getting better. Monster crabs. Gold and black-armored giants. Just. Great day.) “Tell me, good Matoran, why would you ever want to leave my realm? Isn’t it wonderful?” “Sir, no disrespect, but we were seeking Artakha.” “Artakha? Why would you ever want to go to that awful place? This here is Karzahni! A brighter paradise couldn’t have been imagined by the Great Beings themselves.” “So this isn’t Artakha! I knew it.” “Why would you ever think my realm was anything like that terrible island?” “Uh. It was the sign, sir. The sign that said Artakha.” “Oh, that old thing? I thought I tore it down ages ago. Oh, but I’m ever so sorry to have misled you with my sign. That was unfortunate…or rather, rather fortunate. Now you have the chance to stay on Karzahni, which is far superior! Indeed, follow me!” (That…guy… has gotten all excited and run ahead. Me, I can’t figure it out. This place…how can it possibly be a paradise, by any standard?) “That guy is insane.” “I noticed.” “Where did he even get this ‘paradise’?” “I don’t know. But wherever he got it…” “He got ripped off.” “Yeah. I know.” ------------------------------------ Entry #7: "Passing Through Paradise" The sun blazes down, scorching the back of my neck. The sand beneath me is blistering; I feel as though I’m walking barefoot on a frying pan. My mouth burns; my throat is dry as cotton – it’s been forty-eight hours since I poured the last drop of water in my canteen through my chapped lips. The pack on my back seems as heavy as an obese kikanalo; with every step I take it threatens to pull me to the ground. But I trudge on. Where I’m going is not important – all you must know is that this desert lies between me and my destination. I have lost count of the years I’ve spent out here, pushing ever onward towards my goal. Years? you question. Yes, I know. It amazes me as well, sometimes, when I pause to contemplate it. I am no Toa; I claim no great powers to ease the path before me. I am but a Matoran, a single, weak being alone in a sea of sand. But my goal lies ahead, and I must reach it. And because I must do so, I will. I reach the crest of the dune and halt for a brief moment to observe the landscape. Sand. More sand. And, off in the distance, a small dark speck. It is not until hours later that the speck becomes a narrow swath of green in the midst of the endless tan. An oasis. A sliver of paradise in a world of endless pain. It is hours still before I reach it, but at last the sand turns to grass beneath my feet. The foliage radiates from a pool of water, deep and clear. I unshoulder my pack by its shore, dip my canteen into its depths. The water is cool and pure, life in the midst of death. I fill the vessel and seat myself beneath a towering palm, the tree shielding me, protecting me from the merciless sun. As I drink I dig my feet into the ground, relishing the feel of grass between my toes. I finish off the canteen and turn to the tree, wrapping my arms around its long, limbless trunk and pulling myself upwards. I manage the climb on willpower alone; my strength, certainly, is not sufficient to carry me to the top. I draw my knife and cut free a cluster of bananas before dropping to the ground myself. I peel one of the fruits and eat it slowly, enjoying the sweetness that fills my mouth and the fullness that barely begins to fill my belly. I continue in this manner for the remainder of the day – drinking, sitting, climbing, eating. At dusk I curl up on the ground, grateful to be able to sleep on the soft grass rather than my coarse bedroll. The next morning I wake, bathe, and begin again my routine of eating and drinking. I have gone long without water and longer without food; my energy must be replenished. I search the rest of the oasis, finding nuts, berries, and more fruits. No rahi have made their homes here, it seems, which is somewhat unfortunate – meat it would’ve been nice to have a bit of meat. Nonetheless, I gather what I can and return to the pool. The next day, too, follows a similar pattern, but with the added task of drying and preserving any food I can find. By the end of the day my supplies have been replenished. I wake the following morning and bathe quickly before refilling each of my canteens. I take a final sip of the pool’s cool water before shouldering my pack. An hour later the sun is again scorching my neck; the sand is again blistering my feet. My throat is again dry and my lips are again chapped. Again my pack threatens to drag me to the ground. Paradise is behind. My goal is ahead. ------------------------------------ Entry #8: "Paradise? What Paradise?" A paradise. That was what they called this island. A paradise. Agni wouldn’t currently call it a paradise. It felt more like Karzahni. It was raining; the downpour drenched Agni and turned the ground around him to mud. He was wet and cold and miserable. Normally he wouldn’t feel like this in Ta-Wahi. In fact, those in Ta-Koro were not in such a state. The heat of the lava around them turned much of the rain to steam, and even then, the fact that they had roofed huts protected them from the precipitation. But Agni was not in Ta-Koro. Instead, he a guard was stationed in the burnt forest, on the lookout for Rahi. The remains of the trees offered no cover from the torrential rains. Winds swept across the land and sprayed the rain water through his mask and into his eyes. This was not what paradise was supposed to be like. Agni heard something hit the ground nearby. Perhaps one of the dead trees had fallen over into the mud. He trudged through the muck towards the sound, but froze at the sight of a Kane-Ra. The mighty bull Rahi was crawling through the mud, heading towards Ta-Koro. And it was not alone. Sand Tarakava and Nui-Jaga followed behind it, trudging through the tread marks in the mud left by the Kane-Ra. That was another reason why this island wasn’t a paradise; there were too many infected Rahi out to get the Matoran. Agni spun around and started to run towards the village. He needed to warn them of the oncoming attack. But his feet sunk deep into the mud, and make loud slurping noises every time he took a step. Even with the roar of the storm, the noise was enough to get the Kane-Ra’s attention. It sighted the Matoran and changed direction. At least the Rahi weren’t going to attack the village first, Agni thought. They would get him instead. He tried to run faster, but the mud slowed him down, and the rain water clouded his vision. The Rahi were closing in behind them, but they were also slowed by the mud and the storm. Unfortunately, the Kane-Ra was able to power through it faster than the Ta-Matoran. Agni cursed to himself as he pushed on. He was done for. He was a well trained guard, but the storm was hampering his abilities to run and fight. The Rahi would surely get him. And then, what would it all be for? To protect this island paradise? It wasn’t worth it. Agni stumbled one last time, and fell mask first into the mud. He was barely able to pull himself out before the Kane-Ra caught up to him. The beast roared, and snapped its head forward, where it would break Agni’s body with its horns. But something struck it mid-stride, and the beast drew back. A volley of bamboo discs flew threw the air with the raindrops, striking the Kane-Ra’s infected masks and knocking them off. With a final grunt, the now uninfected beast decided to retreat from the mud and seek shelter elsewhere. The Sand Tarakava and Nui-Jaga fled from the mighty bull, now that it was no longer their ally and leader. The Rahi would be back, but not until after the storm had abated. Agni pushed himself up, and although his vision was blurry, he could see the squad of Ta-Matoran walking towards him. Another of the guardsmen had sighted the Kane-Ra chasing him, and had gathered a resistance to fight the Rahi back. Had Agni not diverted the Rahi’s attention, they would’ve managed a successful sneak attack on the gates of Ta-Koro. The other Guards helped Agni out of the mud and led him back to the warmth and shelter of the village. After all, Agni was their comrade and friend, and they had gone out of their way to help him. An Agni knew he would do the same for all of them. No, this island wasn’t a paradise, Agni thought. It was full of dangers and discomfort. But he had good friends on this island, and they were worth fighting for. He could tough it out with them. And together, they could build their own paradise. ------------------------------------ Entry #9: "Gainful Employment" A rowboat bumped against the shining steel dock of Artakha’s southern shore. The Av-Matoran in it hopped out gracefully, a single small pack slung over her shoulders as her only luggage. Without stopping to look around, she began to stroll along the dock towards the gate that separated it from the shining city beyond. At the gate, an Onu-Matoran stepped from the guardhouse and raised a hand to halt her. “Halt. Your name and purpose.” The Av-Matoran smiled serenely. “My name is Enea. I have come to work here.” The Ta-Matoran shook his head and sighed. “You aren’t the first. But I’m sorry – we don’t simply allow people to paddle up and start living here. We were chosen by Master Artakha for a reason.” “And don’t I deserve a chance to give him just such a reason?” The guard frowned. “Actually, the general policy on that front is no. The interest is appreciated, and it’s nothing personal, but I have to ask you to leave.” Her smile was unwavering. “And if I told you I had nowhere to return to?” “What do you mean?” “Tell me, have you heard of the Barraki?” The guard scratched his head. “Well… yeah. Yeah, they’re the warlords in charge of the rest of the universe.” She tipped her head and nodded, the smile growing. “Good. Then, have you heard of their campaigns?” The guard shuffled uncomfortably. “We don’t much concern ourselves with the politics of the rest of the universe.” “Very well, then. Allow me to explain. I was an island Matoran. I lived to the south of here, on a small island that was quite splendid in its own little way. We fished and made our own little industry with whatever traders came by. We even had a Toa, a wonderful Toa of Plasma who guarded us with all his heart.” A still sort of sweetness had entered her voice, and the guard found her gaze oddly unnerving. “It turns out we were supplying some war effort or other with our little trades. Oh, I’m not quite certain who, myself, but it doesn’t really matter. What does matter is what happened next, and what happened next was that one of the Barraki sent his army to ensure we wouldn’t make those trades again. Our Toa fought, he fought so very hard, and for that they clapped him in chains and took him away. That was years and years ago. “Then last month they came again, and they brought our Toa with them. He didn’t even look at us as he burned our land to ashes. I imagine they wanted to send a message of some sort, don’t you? “In any event, us survivors are quite adrift. Most everyone else is headed to other islands, or Metru Nui. I came here instead.” The smile again. “Is there a problem with that?” The guard swallowed nervously. “That’s- you have my sympathies, but-“ “But?” He drew himself up as best he could. “But Master Artakha’s word is absolute. I’m sorry, but you’re not wanted here.” “I see.” She sighed. “What was your name?” “P-Perdonus.” “Perdonus.” She smiled. “That’s a nice name. Perdonus, I’m afraid you misunderstand me. I’ve decided to come work here, and so I will. It’s really not up for debate.” The guard could feel himself tensing. “It doesn’t matter what you say-“ “Well, actions speak louder than words.” In a flash, she was moving – not the practiced grace of a trained warrior, but the raw determination of someone with something to prove. Perdonus had barely registered it before she sunk her fist into his stomach, and he collapsed to the ground. She strolled past him and towards the open guardhouse. A small receiver was hooked up to the wall. Enea plucked it from its cradle and spoke into it. “Hello? Master Artakha? I’m sure you saw that. Someone like you doesn’t actually rely on guards for watching his borders. I’ve come to work for you. I’m rather tired of all the wars, you see. I’d like to try my hand at creation. “And when the rest of the world comes knocking at your paradise’s door – I’d like to help you stand up to that. If your guard is any indication, you’re badly lacking in knowledgeable employees on that front. “That’s all. I’ll be outside.” She hung up the receiver, and, humming, walked back outside, past the still-wheezing Perdonus, seating herself on the edge of the dock. It was a lovely day. ------------------------------------ Entry #10: "The Fall of Paradise" "It will always be like this," I said. "Just the two of us together." "Always!" she agreed. She pointed suddenly off to the distance. When I turned, she pulled my Kanohi down over my eyes and ran off, laughing. The first memory came back to me with a half-warm, half-cold jolt. What I experienced when I returned to Karda-Nui for the first time, I have never told anyone. The memories were too painful. I had chased after her and caught her by the wrist, holding it tight. "Always?" Gavla straightened my Kanohi. "Always, Takua." --- Those were the happiest days in my memory. And what can I say about them now? It's strange, how good things are so difficult to tell of; yet things that are miserable are easy to describe, and take so much telling. Those were the early days, when there was much work to do every day in constructing the universe; but Gavla and I would always find time together to walk through our gardens alone, in our private paradise. It was beautiful. And so was she. I've inscribed countless words on the walls of history telling of terrible tragedies, but of the times of peace, what could I say? "They were happy . . . until, all too soon, they were not." --- "What do you mean, we shouldn't let them put the Makuta in charge?" "Exactly what I say!" she insisted. "We were here first! Toa should be masters and guardians over the universe, not these codeless shapeshifters." "But why?" "They have too much power. I don't trust them. If we became Toa--" "Toa? Us?" "Yes! If we became Toa, maybe--maybe--" "Maybe what? Gavla, that's not our Duty. The Great Beings gave us our own purpose." She scowled. "Forget it. I knew you wouldn't understand. Let's talk about something else." I reached for her hand but she pulled away. Nevertheless, even in silence, we walked side by side through the gardens, and I couldn't help but cherish each moment. --- As we became busier we saw less of each other. Still, when there were no other distractions, it was just her and me. And that was special to me. I remember those days when we would walk, side by side; when we would talk, word by word; when we would laugh, smile by smile. And those days--oh, those wonderful days, oh so long ago, meant everything to me . . . That's just it, isn't it? They meant everything to me, but they won't mean anything to you. Misery likes company. That can be shared. But it's hard to share bliss. It's too bad that there aren't more words for joy, and fewer for sorrow. --- "I have--unfortunate news--Takua, sir." "Yes?" I turned to the messenger. "She's--disappeared. And she's taken the Toa Stones." Somewhere in my chest a spring tightened. "Who?" --- The Toa Stones were recovered. But Gavla wasn't. Not really. She was never the same after that. She was punished; she was forgiven; she came to be respected again. I tried more than once to make things right, but--how often the offended is the quickest to forgive, while the offender is pitiless! --- "Gavla. We need to talk." She ignored me. "I'm leaving Karda-Nui." "Good for you." "Gavla, I'd like to say--" "If you're expecting a tearful goodbye, save your breath." "I won't see you again--for a long time. I'd like to think, before I go--" "That was always the problem with you. Too much thinking! For once in your life Takua, don't look first, and don’t look back. Just leap." --- Her words changed my life. I never forgot them. Still, I can't help but wonder if I took the right leap. Destiny is whimsical. Would ours have been different, if instead of following orders I had followed her advice then and there, and took a different leap? All these millennia--was that what she wanted? --- For the first time since I had turned away from Karda-Nui, I was looking down on all I had once shared with Gavla. Things had changed--more than I ever could have imagined . . . But had they--so much? I was here to save the universe, but I was here for another reason . . . --- "It will always be like this." "Always. It's our Destiny, Takua." ------------------------------------ Entry #11: "Ten years" Paradise island. Lush trees, singing Rahi, adventure hiding behind every bush, tree, mountain. Mystery in every cave, secrets frozen in the glaciers. Peace and unity in every Koro, love in the hearts of the Matoran. There's no place like Mata Nui.A great city like no other, Matoran fill the streets, hard working to keep peace. Automated police patrol the streets, enforcing order. A prospering enterprise, the headquarters of the universe. Metru Nui.A savage island, weathered by strong-willed inhabitants. Raging seas all around, a raging volcano within. Danger and adventure always guaranteed. A treasure of immeasurable worth below untamed Voya Nui.Mahri Nui. A township like no other, survived by sheer will, awaits below sparkling waves. Fear creeps from the deep, the darkness of the ocean, the recesses of the Pit.The Great Heart, the life force of the universe; Karda Nui. A deep caved choked with light, the delicate candle of the world flickering, shrinking, challenged by sliding shadows.A desert beyond the universe, a world united, Bara Magna becomes Spherus Magna once again, suffering ended and strife over. A world to explore, a universe to discover, and possibilities endless.Paradise. Adventure. Bionicle. ------------------------------------ Entry #12: "Life Outside Paradise" "Mata Nui, our Great Spirit, has renewed the life of this planet!" Turaga Vakama proclaimed to the crowd of Matoran recently emerged from the robot's head. "He has given this new world to us and the peoples of Spherus Magna, that we may build a new life - a life free from the tyranny of the Makuta!"Some of the Matoran cheered at that. For a thousand years, as long as they could remember, these villagers had lived under the shadow of Makuta's attacks upon them. Perhaps now, they hoped, they could finally forget his darkness.The Turaga's speech drew to a close. "I ask you, my people," he concluded, "to honor all who fought and sacrificed for this day, whether they are living or dead -" the Ko-Matoran fell especially silent then "- to do all in your power to preserve this new paradise we have been given, and, above all, to continue to uphold the Unity which has brought the villagers of Mata Nui so far." The six villages erupted into cheers.As the crowd began to disperse, a Ga-Matoran murmured to her neighbor, "Am I the only one waiting for infected Rahi to jump out of the forest?""What do you think-mean, Macku?" the green Matoran asked, tilting his head to one side. His name was Tamaru, and they had been friends since the formation of the Chronicler's Company."Oh, nothing," Macku shrugged. "It's just the Turaga's speech reminded me of the one he gave us when we first came to the island. The legend said itwas a paradise given to us by Mata Nui too. It wasn't exactly perfect, was it?""True-right you are," Tamaru agreed. "But this world-place he did make to give to us, at least. And there will be no dark-slave Rahi here with him dead-gone." He did not have to specify whom he meant.Macku sighed. "Yeah, we can be grateful for that all right. But...I don't know...it just seems like people keep saying this place or that place is 'paradise', when really, they're just...places. I loved the island of Mata Nui - I still miss it sometimes - but I never thought it was perfect. There was a lot of work just to live, and dangerous Rahi that weren't even infected, and other Matoran got on my nerves and I probably got on theirs. It was just normal life!"And I heard Turaga Vakama once said Metru Nui seemed like paradise to them before. Didn't it have robot guards to enforce all its strict laws? It wasn't much like paradise when we got back there, either. I suppose it was our real home, but it was also a city-sized pile of rubble, that we had to put back together. Life actually seemed a lot worse than on Mata Nui."And I've heard that 'Artahka' place they talk about isn't so wonderful either. So I'm not really sure what the Turaga mean when they say this new place is a 'paradise,' too."Tamaru had listened attentively. Now he grinned at her. "All true, water-sister. I f you want a place free from all the evil-bad parts, I'm afraid we'll have to wait till some other life-world."He threw a stick he had picked up into the air and caught it again. "But now we've got light, fear-freeness, a world full of life-beauty and everyone from Metru Nui to work-help each other. I'm joy-happy with that."Macku smiled, bad mood blown away on the fresh breeze of Le-Matoran philosophy. "I suppose you've got a point, Tamaru." She looked around: the bright sun of her Ga-Koro days above, a lush world around her, and almost all her comrades within her sight. "Yeah. I guess this is good enough for now." ------------------------------------

Yep, just echoing Grantaire and Dallas here--great to have you! ^^ Hope you join in on our Skype activities, too! : D

Also, new competition: If anyone completes that challenge, you automatically win the contest. Go crazy folks.