"BoardQuest" By Samuel Johnson Circa 1985 Stepping cautiously amongst the remains of what were once User's brains, the fearless Sam Johnson marches undauntedly through the anonymous board straight into what will become his first time in the Contributer's Board. Walking with infinite care and patience, he warily watches each foot fall gently to the floor, boring himself to death in the process. Several insane board users rush past, nearly sweeping him into a vast pit of Nonsense, a gaping hole merely six feet from him. Then, passing the pit slowly, he only now allows himself to breathe easy, that much of his journey apparently over. Suddenly, his attention is distracted by the sight of the OuTcAsT moving past on his never ending struggle down the Way. Sam's mind wanders for just an instant, but this breach of his awareness is enough. Several large and dangerous looking verbal patterns of foul language flit past, knocking him dangerously off balance. Then, just as it seems he would recover his stance and continue onwards, he slips on a small lump of wasted disk space, and with horror unmatchable by anyone who has never traversed a New York subway, he tips over backwards into the pit. Grasping the edge desperately, he clings for dear sanity, crying out for help. Moments later, a pair of shoes meet his view. "Excuse me," says Sam, "but I'm in a bit of a fix down here. Don't suppose you could help me out?" He looks up hopefully, only to see the angry face of Kris Ponder glaring down at him. "Don't expect anything from me, Samuel Johnson." she crys bitterly. "I've seen your messages on this system, and I know who you are, Captain X!" These last words were stated with a terrible sting of rage. "But I didn't say anything against you!" he protests. "I never..." Ignoring his pleas, Kris solidly kicks him in the face, and watches him plummet downwards, and then walks off without a single look back. Hurtling towards the bottom of the Nonsense pit, Sam saw the flowing psychotic pool of misused literature rippling below. He knew he was doomed to madness should he drown his sanity in the waters beneath him, but he could see no way out. Then, inches away from the flowing liquid of mental death, an enormous net shot out from a cave in the side wall of the pit, catching Sam and saving him from certain insanity. After being pulled into the cave, Sam crawled painfully out of the net and looked about to see the identity of his savior. He could see a dark figure standing before him, outlined in an incredibly melodramatic lighting effect. "Who are you?" Sam asked. "Why did you save me from the pit?" "More to the point, who are you?" demanded the shadowy figure. "Why do you disturb my solitude?" Sam drew himself up proudly, and puffed out his chest in a conceited pose he hoped would make him seem heroic. It didn't, but it did make a button or two pop off his shirt. "The name is Samuel Johnson. Perhaps you know me better as Captain X." The eyes of the man in front of him narrowed to angry slits. "And what does the name Bob McKenzie mean to you?" Sam reacted with a start. "I used to use that on Heathkit, before people decided it wasn't worth calling. Why?" "And you remember the other, don't you? The person you used to talk with until the Heathkit Sysop ran out of patience and threw you both off?" "You mean you're..." "Nomad Lurang." hissed the shadowy lump. "I don't appreciate your remarks on the anonymous, you know. I'm really quite surprised in you. I thought I could trust you further than that. Oh well." Before Sam could even react, he had been pushed into the flowing madness...Sam plunged deeper into the swirling madness, and the more he struggled to reach the surface of the polka-dot waters, the deeper he sunk. Finally, exhausted, he allowed the strange fluid to engulf him. He was washed to and fro by undercurrents for a brief moment, and then passed out. He awoke on a glittering red beach with orange stripes. He lay face down, greenish-brown foam gathering about his facial extremities. "I trust you are all right." said a voice. Sam struggled to his feet. "I feel fine." "Good." said the voice. "You are about to go mad." "Of course," Sam quickly added, "I do have a terrible ringing in my ears, and..." "Tell them to call back later." the voice interrupted. "Things of great importance await your attention." "I hope it's lunch." he grumbled. "Come, follow me." "Follow who?" Sam asked. "I don't see any..." Stepping out from behind a large telephone booth which changed colors faster than most Mafia hitmen change aliases, was the most gorgeous woman Sam had ever seen. "Wow." Sam breathed. "What did you say?" asked the woman, whom Sam suddenly noticed was wearing a loincloth made up of computer printouts. "Nothing important. Where am I?" "The realm of the Great Nonsense." "I see. So what do you do for excitement around here?" he asked, eyeing the girl and getting a few exciting ideas of his own. "I drive people mad." "I see. Well, keep up the good work. Must dash." He looked about his sur- roundings quickly. "Which way to the nearest fire exit?" "You can't leave until I make a mindless idiot out of you. Company rules." "Who runs this place?" Sam asked desperately. "Maybe if I talked to the boss..." "Over here." someone called. Sam whirled around and came face to face with Roger Bahadur. "Oh, hey Sam. I've got a mission for you." he said. "What?" "Someone who goes by the name Black Omen has stolen the most powerful weapon in existance, and I'd appreciate it if you'd go pick it up for me." "What is this?" "Plot introduction. Now listen, the Black Omen..." "Who's he?" "Some idiot villian I guess. Who cares? Anyway, he's swiped the spacebar and he's been running about deleting Users and generally being a pest." "And you want me to get it?" "I said that already. Don't be annoying." "Well forget it." "SYSOP's gonna be real disappointed..." The old man strolled by and shot a warning look at Sam. "I'm going already, I'm going." "Hold up," cried the girl, "I have to drive him insane!" "I'm an anonymous board User." Sam replied. "I'm already insane." "Oh, then get lost." "How?" "Take the elevator." "Thanks. Can't say it's been fun." Hopping into a strange elevator that looked like a chimpanzee's idea of modern art, Sam hit the UP button (cleverly disguised as a radish) and began the trip back to the surface. Stepping from the elevator, Sam stared at the surroundings. He didn't know where he was going or what he was doing, or what in fact was going on. "Heck with it." he said, started off down the long passageway of the main menu... Suddenly, hackers poured out of the large squarish windows above him, raining down like hailstones. Ducking and running, Sam dove into a small chamber in front of him. So that's where the SYSOP keeps the mutant cockroaches! Sam said to himself. He decided to make a break for the hallway, but a madly agitated hackpack (plural of hackers - Ed.) filled the small space. They moved in on him threateningly, while the cockroaches brought up the rear. Grabbing desperately at a small black box on his belt, Sam smashed down a small red button and waited. "System Operator is being paged." announced a loudspeaker. "The old man will appear shortly to keep you entertained while you wait." Scant seconds later, the old man did indeed appear, juggling six goblets of wine and the palace drunk. "How about a little softshoe to pass the time?" asked the old man. "Help!" cried Sam, covered in mobs of both hackers and cockroaches. "The castle's being overthrown by... glurg!" His sentence was cut off by a large cockroach who decided now was a good moment to strangle the struggling User. The old man finished the sentence for him. "Hackers!" he yelled. "And the Doc let the roaches loose!" "Very observant, I... glag... urmph..." The old man hit an enormous gong he had apparently been carrying about in his pocket. Moments later, hundreds of soldiers clad in chain mail tromped in and slaughtered both hackpack and roaches alike. Sam rubbed his throat in pain. "Who are they?" "The pinheads. When the feast ended, we had them running about being a real nuisance, and we had to do something with them." "So the SYSOP made them the castle guard?" "No, he gave them kitchen duty." He motioned towards three pinheads hauling off a large cockroach. "They're preparing lunch right now." "Lunch?" exclaimed Sam, astonished. "I think I'm going to be sick!" "I know I am." said the old man mournfully. "I have to eat that stuff. Well, good luck against the Black Omen, and here." He tossed a black satchel over to Sam. "What is it?" But the old man had departed. Sam sighed and looked at the small leather bag he held. It read: USERHELP KIT Several New Ways To Make Questing Easier and Infinitely More Complicated As Well Sam frowned. That doesn't make any sense, he thought, of course, nothing had lately. He unzipped it and peered inside. Several pieces of software lay in the bag, packed in foam padding. He looked at the small guidebook included. It said: This all-purpose Userhelp Kit Level III contains the following useful gadgets to be used at User's discretion: 1) Keyboard - Incredibly useful device with many general functions such as: Control K - Halts time for a limited period. Quikscan - Searches surrounding area and gives the location of all other Users in the castle. E-Mail - Instant telepathic communication with the User of your choice. Board Boarder - Swift teleport to other chambers in the castle. Onscreen Editor - Quick elimination of unnecessary words, phrases, and/or entire conversations. 2) Personal Rewrite - Small device enabling User to change identity to that of another User. User list included. 3) Spacebar - Powerful weapon to be used for deletion of unnecessary things like bulletins, messages, and/or other Users. 4) Packing Foam - Fluffy stuff good for cleaning your ears with. END OF LIST Hold on, Sam thought, I've got the Spacebar! Forget old Omen, I'm off the hook! He dug through the satchel until he found a small black box that looked like a largish pen case. Undoing the ziplock on the protective plastic bag, Sam pulled out the box and opened it. It was empty except for a note reading: I've got your little toy... and I defy anyone to come get me, too! Nyahhhhhhh!!! Love and Kisses, The Black Omen Sam figured he should say something insulting about this, but there was no one to say it to. He decided to find out where the Omen was instead with the Quikscan. Activating the Keyboard, he dialed up the Quikscan function. "Quikscan impossible." declared the Keyboard. "There is a bug in the system." "What's wrong with it?" Sam demanded. "Repeat," repeated the Keyboard, "Quikscan impossible. Bug in system." "What sort of bug?" "Program bug." "I guessed that much! What sort of error is it?" "No error, problem lies in program bug. It is jamming Quikscan frequency." "So it's a problem with the Quikscan frequency?" "It is a program bug." "What bug?" Sam screamed, rather tempted to stomp on the Keyboard. "That bug." answered the machine. "Behind you." Great programmers, Sam grumbled to himself, it's another roach. It was not another roach. It looked something like an enormous praying mantis. Its many arms grabbed bits of stone off the wall and devoured them. Like all runaway program bugs, it was determined to destroy the system from the very foundation. Before Sam could react, the bug snapped him up in a terrible grip. "What sort of thing are you?" hissed the bug, blood of past meals dribbling from its chin. "Terrified." Sam squeaked meekly. "Ditto." agreed the Keyboard. "Wait!" squealed the creature triumphantly. "I know this one! I have captured the famed Captain X! You delight in insulting others, do you not? Making them squirm?" "Not especially." "Well I do! I'm going to swallow you whole! What have you to say to that?" "I'm squirming, I'm squirming." "Not even worth trying in my case." sniffed the Keyboard. "What do we do?" Sam whispered urgently. "I could use the Control K to freeze time." the Keyboard suggested brightly. "It's a start." Suddenly, everything save Sam stopped dead in their tracks. Rats froze halfway across the floor, flies hovered in midair, and even Roger Bahadur quit saying nonsense for the first time. "Good job." Sam said, crawling down the bug's rather impressive form. "Now what?" "Good question. I can only pause time momentarily. He could start up any time now." "I thought time was stopped." "Time only stopped for everyone else, not us." "Oh great. So when do we have to make a break for it?" "Right about... now!" With an angry bellow, the bug roared to life once again. "Whoops, time to go! What was that about a teleport?" "Ah, where do you want to go?" "Anywhere that isn't here!" With a loud crackle, they faded into another realm of the Hex. "What are you doing?" screamed the old man. "Get off my lunch!" Slightly embarrassed, Sam clambered off the banquetting table. "Should we tell him about the bug?" whispered the Keyboard. "They'll find it soon enough by themselves." "Holy microchips!" exclaimed the SYSOP, just outside the room. "Look at the size of the thing!" "See?" Sam chided. After disposing of the bug and cleaning the Roach Souffle off Sam's shirt, the SYSOP sent him on his way again, in search of the Black Omen. "Does the thing work now?" Sam asked. "What thing?" "The Quikscan!" "Oh," said the Keyboard, "sure. Who do you want?" "The Black Omen." "Checking... Here we go. He's in the Reviews Chamber." "Let's go!" Sam and his Userhelp Kit exploded with a burst of light, reintegrating in the middle of an enormous room filled with large shelves containing small brown scrolls of parchment. "Here we are." said the Keyboard. "Now what?" "I kill you." answered the Black Omen, walking out from behind a shelf, Spacebar in his outstretched hand. "Ask a stupid question..." the Keyboard muttered. Sam eyed the Spacebar warily. It was a long, squarish white wand of sorts. It didn't seem too formidable... The Black Omen pointed the Spacebar at them and squeezed it. The Spacebar spat out a bright beam of blackness, much in the same way some plastic tubes spit out toothpaste. The blast barely grazed Sam's left shoulder, utterly destroying a large shelf behind him. "So much for the Terminator reviews." Sam mumbled, and leapt across the smoking remains, and dove behind another shelf. The Black Omen squirted another shot at him and blew the shelf to bits. The old man watched the battle on the castle monitor with growing concern. "They're destroying the reviews chamber! Look, they just knocked out a stack of Cotton Club reviews and I hadn't even gotten a chance to read them yet!" "It's all right." assured the SYSOP. "Calm yourself." "There goes another one of those D U N E reviews..." "Don't worry about it, no one else will." "And a piece on Starman..." "No problem." "A review on the new Edmund Wells novel!" "Who cares?" The old man turned on the SYSOP angrily. "You may be the boss around here, but your lack of concern is sickening!" The SYSOP patted a silken covered oak chest sitting beside him. "I have the backups right here with me." "But what about Johnson?" "What about him? Did you read that Cap. Rap he wrote on the anonymous board? Let him die." "And the Black Omen?" The SYSOP grew impatient, and his voice became stern and angry. "Would you hold off on your stupid quibbling? The day I can't take care of a third rate peasant like the Black Omen, I'll pack up the system and join up with Heathkit!" "Don't even say it in jest!" cried the old man, alarmed. "Sorry, got a little carried away." Sam dodged the blasts as best he could, but he was running out of book reviews to hide behind. "I'll bash your skull in, you rotten..." roared the Black Omen. Before he finished, however, Sam flipped the Onscreen Editor on. The finished sentence came out like: "I'll bash your skull in, you rotten *CRZZZ*ing little *ZRAPP*er! I'll *FZZZ* your *WHMMMM*ing.... What the *BZZZT* did you do?" "I edited all the, er, language. It was really getting on my nerves." "Well *FLZZZ*! If that doesn't just *BRMPH* me off! I'm gonna kick your *ZRPP* in!" He released a few badly aimed shots at Sam's head. "Wait a minute!" Sam grabbed the Keyboard. "What was that about becoming anyone?" "Personal Rewrite," said the Keyboard, "allowing you to become anyone you wish included on the Userlist..." "Great, check this one for me...." "I'll bash your *BLZZZ*!" raved the Omen. "I'll *FRPPP* your *CRIZZZ*!" "Got it yet?" Sam asked desperately. "Right here. User number..." "Forget the listing!" Sam interrupted. "Just do it!" Sam's form shimmered and blurred. "There you are, you *BRMMM*head!" shrieked the Black Omen, spotting him behind a large shelf. "Take this, you lousy *FRMMP*!" He shot Sam squarely in the back. There was an enormous explosion, and everything went black. The old man fiddled agitatedly with the castle monitor screen, but all he could get was static. "I'm going to go find out what's going on down there." he announced. "Fine." said the SYSOP. "Aren't you worried? Don't you care if I get killed or not?" "Well, it will be an annoyance having to retype you into the system, but otherwise, I'm not particularly worried." "Well that's just great! Is that all I am to you? A bundle of data statements?" "Well what do you consider yourself to be?" "A bundle of data statements of course, but I don't want to be referred to as such!" The SYSOP paused a moment. "Well what should I call you? Harold?" "I'm satisfied with just 'the old man'". "That's all I ever call you!" "Good." "Get out of here, would you?" The old man shrugged. He couldn't understand it. The SYSOP seemed so unusually short tempered these days. Oh well... The smoke had barely cleared from the reviews chamber when the old man suddenly appeared and stuck his head through the door. "Anyone here?" he called. The Keyboard beeped sadly. "My casing is cracked!" it complained. "So's your personality, but I never held it against you." "Aw, nobody likes us poor little Texas Instruments technical wonders." it whimpered. "Technical wonders?" The old man laughed sarcastically. "The only technical thing people wonder about TI equipment is why people construct it in the first place! You know why everything's bigger in Texas? I'll tell you why every- thing's bigger in Texas! It's because they never discovered the microchip, that's why!" "Hmmmph!" snorted the Keyboard, and irritably switched off. "Sam?" hollered the old man. "Black Omen?" he hollered, but not as loud. "Here." groaned a groan. "Who?" "It's me." "Who's me?" "You're the old man! You ought to know that much!" "I mean, who's you?" "You mean, who are you? Who's you is bad English." "Oh, it's you, Sam." The old man let out a sigh of relief. "What makes you say that?" "The Black Omen was annoying, but not THAT annoying." "Oh really?" The Black Omen strolled out of the smoke and ash, Spacebar in hand. The old man grinned nervously. "Of course, I didn't really think that you were being annoying, you know. I was just..." "Forget it." said the Omen. "It's me, Sam." "But you look and sound just like..." "I used the Personal Rewrite." "What for?" "Well, when the Omen shot me, I ducked..." "I saw you get shot in the back!" "Hmmm. Story error. Anyway, I ducked, and when he looked down and saw I looked just like him, he got the two of us mixed up and shot himself." "That's the most incredibly stupid thing I've ever heard of." "Same here, but it had to work anyway for plot purposes. Good guy always winning and all that rot." He paused and looked around. "Where's the Keyboard?" "Sulking." grumbled the Keyboard. "You? What for?" "I told it what I thought of T.I. products in general." said the old man. "You sent me off with a T.I. kit?" "I couldn't spare any decent hardware at the time." "Well, I've got to risk the thing again cause I don't want to go through life looking like a late movie villain. Keyboard, how about rewriting me into Sam Johnson again?" "How about I rewrite you into Nomad Lurang instead?" replied the Keyboard, still quite miffed. "Please!" The old man held up his hands in protest. "No offense to the guy, but one is enough!" "Oh, all right." And suddenly, Sam was Sam again, thanks to the marvels of state-of-the-art special effects. "Great! Now what?" said Sam. "We go tell the SYSOP and the other Users what's going on. It was all quite boring really, but maybe they'll be able to make a good topic off it for the anonymous board." "Whatever." Amidst cheering crowds, Sam stood in the castle's guard tower, looking down at the mass of people below. He wondered if he should make a speech. He decided to give it a shot, despite the old man's advice not to. "The Black Omen is gone from the system," he announced, "and the Spacebar has been recovered! Does anyone care?" "No!" shouted the crowds in unison. "But let's have a feast to celebrate it anyway!" "What?" spluttered the old man. He turned to the SYSOP. "We can't! We're still cleaning up from the last banquet!" "Wait," said the SYSOP, "if we have another celebration, and the pinheads start waitressing again..." "No more Roach Souffle!" finished the old man. "You're on!" And so, a great festival commenced in the castle, the likes of which none had ever seen before, because no one actually saw it. In fact, there was no festival at all, because I made the whole thing up as I went along. Oh well, back to stupid messages on the anonymous board. (sigh) YES, THAT WAS THE END. THANK GOD!!!!!!! (STORY CREDITS FOLLOW) AND A THANKS TO (IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE): Kris Ponder - For being in the story long enough to kick my face in, and having the decency not to search me out and actually do it Nomad Lurang - For another brief appearance, long enough to dump me in a pit of insanity, and not making trouble (even if he did try putting in a message as some sort of saving grace. No offense meant, Nomad, then or now). Roger Bahadur - For letting me use both name and nonsense without his approval, and for not writing silly messages as well. I appreciate the support, Roger, even if you did ask for equal billing and a larger role and threaten to sue... The Old Man - For being represented in a way he may not accept, even if no one does care what he thinks. Also, a very special thanks to him for saving me from the Doc when I hit '8' on the main menu instead of '7'. The Great SYSOP - For allowing himself put in, and not deleting my password And of course, Sam "Captain X" Johnson, for starring in this thing, and obliging to take abuse and fall down pits and get whacked about, and not even ask for payment. These things were very helpful and I thank him for it, even if it was me. Also, apologies to Heathkit and T.I. users if they were offended, and big thanks to the hackers and roaches for volunteering to be killed during the course of the plot. No thanks to the Black Omen or the pinheads, however, cause who cares what they think anyhow? And of course, a big thanks to all the Users who didn't ask for me to be thrown off. And of course, an enormous thanks to Kenny Roberts for making sure I completed the story on my own. No offense (again), but I didn't want to be saved by Admiral Flipp, or something like that. Sorry I took so long, and I am now getting off. I'll take less time from here on out... SAM JOHNSON Who isn't starting another story here so as not to clutter up the contributers' chamber. But, anyone else want to try their hand at this? I'd love to see you guys come out with a story (no sarcasm intended)....... EXPECT THE RETURN OF CAPTAIN X TO THE ANONYMOUS BOARD, WITHOUT MUCH ENTHUSIASM OF COURSE, BUT EXPECT IT ANYHOW. CHEERS!