Sunday, August 04, 2013

Art Pact 278 - Points of View

First Person: Well, I can't tell you much about the incident to be honest. I'd been walking through the park over the electroway, counting the grey carriages scattered among the more regular blue ones as they sped by beneath me. It was late, I remember that - I think I'd stayed an extra couple of hours at work and the sun was just coming down over the Makta Tower. I looked up and I saw a cloud of little dots just in the corner of my eye, and that was them, right? The flyers, coming over the hill on the south side of the crater. No formation, so that from that distance they looked like a flock or birds or a swarm of insects. Then they got nearer, and there was the droning, the droning...

Second Person: Only you can hear the droning! You stride purposefully over to the side of the park, pausing only to glance beneath you at the busy electroway hundreds of feet beneath the park's plastiglass substrate. There are people around you, but they have not yet noticed the sound of the flyers getting closer and closer. What do you do? Seriously, I'm asking you - this is a two-way street here, you know. You've got to give me something to work with. I'm not just going to stand here and tell you everything you should do in this perilous situation. Be a man, for heavens sake! Or, you know, a woman, if that's what you are. I'm not going to tell you what you are, that's not my place. That's your thing to decide. (If you are a MAN, collect 100 points and turn to page 17. If you are a WOMAN, collect 75 points and turn to page 18).

Third Person Limited: John rushed to the railing at the edge of the park and stared out at the approaching fleet of aircraft. He counted at least fifty of the distant craft before he gave up - it looked to him as though it were a sizeable proportion of the Progellian Air Force. Behind him, some... damnit, that was behind him. Sometimes it would have been better if John had eyes in the back of his head - especially now, when something really exciting was happening right behind him. Ooh, so exciting! It wouldn't hurt, surely, to reveal a little of the exciting facts going on behind John's back, but oh no, John had to be facing forward right at the fast-approaching fleet of Progellian Flyers!

Third Person Omniscient: Sod it, it has to be said: behind John a micro-parachute blossomed into view, unfolding like the flower of a parapectus albigens, which is a white flower that grows in loamy soil and will become extinct approximately five thousand years after the point at which Judy (the parachutist) lands on the surface of the park behind John. There were seven hundred and thirty-three of them in the park at that moment, but none near enough Judy to be affected directly by the impact of her feet. As her parachute folded up, though, it did blow three bees off course and caused them to stumble across a couple of flowers near the north wall of the park that they wouldn't otherwise have discovered. This had interesting knock-on effects at the sub-atomic level, since the act of removing pollen from the east-most of the flowers caused a mild heating effect to jostle two atoms of oxygen marginally closer to each other than they had been, resulting in the emission of one photon's worth of electromagnetic radiation being emitted by an electron in the outermost p orbital of one of them. This caused...[continued at infinite length on next page]

First Person Unreliable Narrator: the planes grew nearer and nearer, and I gripped at the rail with a terrible rage. Why did it have to be today that they came? I had so much to live for, and now my whole world was going to be brought to an end. If only we'd had some warning! But the approaching fleet was coming in too fast, their engines burning a path in the sky,

First Person Very Unreliable Narrator: No, really? Was that today? You're fucking kidding me, oh man. Sorry, I just got so wrapped up in things here, I didn't realise what time it was. No, really, I'm just swamped. Yes, I understand that. Yes, yes. No, I'll definitely be able to do tomorrow. Seriously, I haven't - I mean, I've got something on in the morning, but I'll cancel it for you. Yes, I'll definitely be there to do that voice-over. Yes of course I'm sure. I'm writing it down now. Yes, I'm literally writing it down now. What? Prove it? Well, I mean, I don't know how... like, what, you want me to hold up the pen to the phone or something so you can hear the noise? I guess whatever makes you happy, man.

1ST PRSN: LOLWUT, IS THIS EVEN A THING IDK.

Third Person Finishing a Pulled Pork Sandwich: So, uh, right, the woman - what was her name again? I - wait, hold on, um, I'b jub fidising my lunch here. Okay, yes, so: Judy lands, and she lets her micro-parachute fold up, then there's a sort of - hold on a second, just taking another bite. Yes, so - oh, nuts, why do they fill these things so full, it's gone everywhere. She gets out a - uh, I can't read that word. It's got sauce all over it. Right, hold on, I'll turn a few pages on and see if that - so it's a Progellian personal jetpack issued to her to rescue John, which you might mistake for a bomb if you read the actual description. Sorry about that. These things are so messy. Okay, so she takes out the jetpack and John turns round, the approaching bombing fleet are getting closer... Wait, let me get a napkin.

First Person Unreliable And Now Angry Narrator: Way to spoil the surprise, genius! I thought. I turned, saw Judy, and waved my hands madly. The jig was up, she might as well rescue me now and get it over with. No point cutting our escape fine now.

Stream of Consciousness: flying up from the bay and watching the red blossoms fall on the glassy surface of the park where the gallow trees hang reminding us all to keep in line, to mind our manners or the progellians will get us what a crock we all bought there's the building I used to work in I can feel judy's strong arms around me pulling me up and away and to safety and to home and I thought yes my mission's done, yes, it's done, yes yes.

Stream of Subconsciousness: There's that red car outside, that car reminds me of Madelaine. God, she's sexy, those strong arms. The things I wouldn't do to Madelaine. I mean, I'd buy her a train ticket and drive that train into a tunnel. Then I guess we could go to that fireworks display. Perhaps take in that rocket taking off that they keep advertising in the news? I should definitely change my deodorant. It's an absolute fact that women would come running to me if I put on Mountain Cat aftershave. I'm definitely writing the character of Judy based on Madelaine, it's obvious that the best way to make her be interested in me is to write her fictional exploits and then hide the manuscript in a hidden folder on my desktop so that she won't be able to ever read it. That is guaranteed to work.

Stream of Unconsciousness: Zzzzzzzz.

First World Problems Person: Free flight home to the rebel base - no inflight movie, no aircon. #mercuryishotthistimeofday

Fourth Person: [BROWSER UNABLE TO RENDER DIALOGUE IN YOUR PRIMITIVE EARTH LANGUAGE]