The sixth extract from the Hamster-Sapiens series of e-books returns to the opening book. You know it: it’s this one…
So without further ado and unneccessary preamble, let’s get down!
Well since the time-line had been altered, there was no way that The Overmind – no matter how brilliant of mind or powerful of will – could possibly know that reality had been altered. It couldn’t even guess that without the Piss Bowl’s interference it would have loathed the colour scheme that now ruined the aesthetic simplicity of The Where House with its garishness and retina-shocking hues. Even less could it imagine that it had ever harboured desires so vast – as to encompass an entire world within its personal domain. Only of its origin did it recall anything with any degree of accuracy.
“Oh woe is me.” The hamsters all heard it wail as they approached – booming so loudly that the shell of the building was now attempting to peel itself from the ancient brickwork, “What manner of beast am I? Created from a deadly combination of alien DNA, the bodies and minds of some poor unfortunate combat veteran hamsters, a few shitty old robots, and a computer console that had seen better days: And what have I got to show for it? Tasteless fittings that are shaped like androgynous nipples, generally appalling décor, a tendency to effeminate outbursts, and a force twelve storm overhead. It’s not much is it! What am I to do?”
Well if timing isn’t everything – then no one knows what is. Because at that very second Lionel chose his moment to lead his entourage into the former Sentinel Robot bay – pausing only long enough to lay the Piss Bowl down gently upon the floor in the corridor outside.
As the swing door clanked shut behind them Lionel found his voice…
“I say,” he began rather politely, “we’d like to have word with you, if you don’t mind.”
The Overmind didn’t look up. It wasn’t looking down to start with. Though it might have been looking inward – gazing upon its self-pity and loathing.
“Oh, look at you, in your drab beiges and greys.” It said bitchily. “Come to gloat, have you? Well fluff you: You can shove your pity up your nose: I like being miserable. And I have the power to make you miserable too. You see if I haven’t!”
“Don’t you talk to Lionel like that!” Fanangy scolded The Overmind.
“Ooh, what’s this?” The Overmind jeered, “Thinking with your hormones, I see. That’s a dangerous game, young fluffy being. Hormones can make you moist; and moistness conducts electricity…Why – if I wanted – I could swat you like a…”
“Please don’t.” Lionel interrupted the mighty machine, “She’s rather…”
Lionel found himself momentarily lost for words.
Silence reigned. If a pin had dropped at that precise moment it would have sounded like a gunshot, an earthquake, or the back door of the local municipal swimming pool slamming shut on a blustery day.
“Yes?” The Overmind chose to remind Lionel that he was in the middle of interrupting its exceedingly loud tirade.
“Yes?” Boney, Tonks, and Major Hardcourt-Gymp added in rapt anticipation.
“Yes?” Fanangy whispered as she looked up at him through eyes that resembled bottomless pools of dark liquid – reflecting nothing more, and nothing less, than total unquestioning faith and an adoration that stretched to infinity and back again.
Lionel gulped. Desperation marched across his face like storm-blown rain clouds He tried to imagine how the fictional Captain Perp would have dealt with this situation. But he came up empty. He then recalled the autobiography of local hero, Horatio Horseblanket, which he’d been studying so intently. Still nothing came. So, finally, with no other recourse open to him, he decided that he should entrust his voice to the only place that truly remained a mystery to him: His own inner feelings.
“Special.” He finally concluded.
At which The Overmind burst into tears. Not real ones of course: Cyber-Metaphorical ones. Or even Roboto-Metaphysical ones.
The Where House fairly shook to the rhythm of its sobs.
“Oi, pack that in.” Boney yelled in desperation, “You’ll ‘ave the whole building down ‘round our ear ‘oles, for fluff’s sake! Pull yer self together, ya artificial dim-shit!”
Fortunately the all-powerful intelligence managed to do as it was bid. In between sniffles it said, “Oh that was lovely. So totally hamstery. If only I could feel like that. But I’m a huge, ghastly, machine – fit only for overwhelming and consuming. Oh woe is me once again.”
“Well actually I might have the answer to your problem.” Lionel said as he began to recover from his deep inner embarrassment, “You won’t necessarily like my next suggestion, but I think you’ll agree it’s a whole lot better than being you.”
Well the Overmind listened to what Lionel had to say, and before long the vast device began imploding, and ejecting the constituents of its construct. In short – it spat out the soldiers, re-built the robots, and stuffed all the Smartgas into a handy canister that just happened to be hanging around beside the vending machine.
© Paul Trevor Nolan 2012
This fabulous work remains available at most e-book retailers – the better-known of which appear on the sidebar and the Tooty’s Books page beneath the header. Not buying it is illogical. Unlike the characters in the story, you are a logical being. Ergo; the book must be bought. It’s the only logical thing to do.