((Uh oh, I think PW going on a (anti-)philosophical rant is a first sign of the apocalypse. Think it's too late to stock up on water and nukeproof fridges?
Counterrant, spoilered for great justice (and keeping the thread nice 'n tidy)
You know, it's funny how in a field that is supposed to use logic and ratio to come to universal truths it becomes readily apparent that even the most bright of us are still all children of our time, locked in certain thought patterns and biological predisposition, unable to break free from our constraints to get a clear and objectively true view on things. Kinda... Sad really.
Main thing about Dawkins is that he has some interesting theories, but is so convinced of the veracity of his own ideas he glosses over or simply ignores major points that do not fit into his theories, yet still acts like he just discovered the key to life and evolution and everything (side note: funny thing that a lot of people think they understand evolution and that it's a pretty simple concept.
They don't, and it's not ).
That said, I do think I hold Philosophy in a tad bit higher regard than you apparently do, though it is true lot's of crap has been spewed over the hundreds of years (then again,
Sturgeon's law).
Part of the problem, I think, is that people get carried away with themselves. Bluntly put, they stare into The Abyss too long, and without someone to redirect their gaze for a moment, they drown in complex theories involving theoretical mindspaces or logical corkscrews or what-have-you. I also have the tendency to go into musings about the condition humaine or related silliness, but from time to time I try to take a step back and overlook my own thought processes, which often leads to a 'dude, what the hell' response to myself. Theorizing away can be fun, but one really has to try and keep some footing in reality, else it devolves into useless blabbering.
Really, maybe philosophers and related thinkers should instigate a 'reality check' in these kind of discussions from time to time, else they get carried away and fart in a bottle and claim it's God or something.
Pretend to be sleeping. If anyone comes in and approaches me, jerk up and throw blanket over them once they get close. If they don't come near, pretend to just wake and ask who it is and what he wants.
(Paranoia, here I come! Wooooo!)
((I think my problem is that I've probably been sunk neck deep in this stuff for far too long. Believe me man, after years of being trapped amongst philosophers and Literary critics, you start to grow weary of it and it's surprisingly repetitious forms. Oh well)
Inventory:
Patient's uniform
In pockets:
Nothing
Location:
Home. (Asylum Room 204)
Time: 5:05 AM Dec 1st.
You pretend to be asleep, curled with the covers pulled over your head, leaving a tiny hole by your face to peek out of. Eventually you hear the door open and a shadow passes in front of the thin light of morning streaming in through the open door. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, but as they do, you can see a man standing over you. The doctor, his clothes spattered with a small amount of blood and his nose broken and bleeding. He's staring down at you with dull eyes, like a sleepwalker, a man possessed. He's holding a syringe in one hand. He reaches down toward you.
You leap up and out of bed, throwing the blanket over him like a net and skittering over into the corner as the doctor struggles sluggishly to pull the blanket off. You can feel your heart pounding in your chest.
(( I'm not trying to get a job, per-say. I'm trying to move somewhere with medical supplies, food, and people that might be willing to help out a (potentially) old friend. The job is more the pretense, with the assumption that, at least at the moment, the 5 of us are some of few who think that the world is about to fall down around us.
Though it seems like RC is about to have issues. So there goes that theory.
I'm also well aware that more money isn't in the cards, I'm after access. And if all else fails, I'm hoping to come up with an in-character reason to link up with Pyro. And I figure the hospital is a good place for interesting things to happen. Much like the Asylum. ))
If I've got a debit/ATM card, head to an ATM and extract $200.
Then head back downtown, watching for oddities on my way. Then curl up for a short nap (~6 AM or so), then head to the Hospital.
Inventory:
Somewhat fancy Suit
Watch
Rubber band holding hair back
In pockets:
Wallet with Driver's license and $200
Car Keys
Bottle of stimulants
Location:
Home (Van parked in downtown)
Time:6:00 am Dec 1st
You fish your ATM card out of your wallet and go withdraw 200 dollars from an ATM near the Shelter. You even manage not to get robbed in the process, which considering the time and the part of town you're in, is pretty dang lucky. You drive back downtown and park in your usual spot before curling up in the back to take a nap. You set your watch for 6 AM and it beeps you awake right on time. Your choice of destination proves a bit tricky, however. You know of two hospitals; a larger, central one just north of downtown, and one out near the suburbs, for unfortunate home owner who accidentally uses a nail gun to attach a 2X4 to their knee.
((And I was hoping to submit and still catch this turn tonight. Oh well, I did timeskip ahead of most of the others.))
Still bleary from a restless, but thankfully dreamless sleep after being woken by the surreal flashback, Samuel checks his clock: 0515 hours.
Curses, I'm already a quarter-hour late.
He gets up and shambles, the majority of the limp having receded alongside the pain, to his dresser, putting on what he had laid out the night before: khaki slacks, a crimson collared shirt, steel-grey tie, black socks and shoes, all impeccably clean and crisp. He quickly runs a comb through his (fairly short and low-maintenance) hair and beard, grabs a light snack from the kitchen, puts on his leather navy jacket (which should have his wallet and keys) grabs his mobile phone, wristwatch, and ID tag, and heads out, driving to the hospital and heading to his office. He won't be truly late until 6 o'clock, but he will be being missed by now and he won't have as much time before starting to see patients.
Inventory:
Khaki Pants
Crimson Shirt and gray tie
Black socks and shoes
Jacket
In pockets:
Cell phone
Watch
Id Tag
Wallet
Car keys
Location:
Redfalls General (Your office)
Time:5:50 am Dec 1st
You get out of bed and get dressed in the outfit you so carefully laid out the night before. Even with this preparation and a light breakfast, you still don't make it in to Redfalls General till 5:45. You say hello to Linda, the girl at the front desk, and trace the familiar route to your office through the sterile white corridors of the office. By the time you sit down at your desk it's 5:50. Your first appointment is at 6:05. You can't help but feel a little bit defeated, despite yourself.
You notice that there's a message blinking away on your office phone.
((PW is a robot man of many talents and fields.))
Brian sat up and stared at the window. No... it didn't go away with sleep. It was still there, gnawing at the pit of his stomach. That dreadful certainty... his life might suck right now, but that's no reason for everything to end. Why? How?
Ugh. No reason not to eat breakfast, at least. Why, he could even eat whatever he wanted without any consequences, right? Bring on the donut sandwiches, hey?
Somehow there was no real appeal. Milk and cereal it was, then.
Eating gave him a chance to mull over what was going on. Was it just him that knew this? Was the world outside freaking out? It'd probably be worth a drive to town to find out.
Eat a bowl of cereal. Drive toward town and go in the first open store I see, grocery store, Wal-Mart, whatever. Walk around and see if people are acting strange, like buying up milk and rations and such.
Inventory:
T-shirt and jeans
In pockets:
Car Keys
Bottle of Anti-anxiety pills
Empty wallet with driver's liscense
Location:
Val-mart
Time:8:00 am Dec 1st
You drag a box of off brand lucky charms -Shamus' Shillelaghs- out of the pantry and fill a bowl with it and the last of the milk. It tastes like sugar coated cardboard, but at least it fills you up. Once you're done ingesting the nutrient rich food like materials you shuffle into the garage and plop down in your car. You're feeling particularly lethargic today. Maybe it's the cereal. Maybe it's the dooms day prophecies. Hard to say.
You drive into town, or at least the nearest collection of stores in the direction of the main concrete and steel lump of the city, squatting out there on the river bank and sea side. The first store you happen across is relatively small, a beige stucco brick with a gleaming blue on white sign and big, glass double doors. "VAL-Mart" the sign reads, in some sort of bold, italicized font. with what look like racing stripes painted all over it. You park nearby and head in.
It's the same as practically any other store of its kind: not much more then a large, open space filled with white tile, white walls, white ceilings, blinding florescent lights, and rows upon nondescript rows of food and everyday house hold supplies. There are only a few people in here and none of them seem to be in any real hurry to fill their blindingly bright blue carts with stacks of instant meals and water bottles.
I crack my knuckles as I sit down at the computer. Everyone I know, which is precious few these days, tells me it's a bad habit.
I don't listen much to them, and if that dream I had last night was right, I might not have to anyways. After all, what use is worrying about arthritis if the world's ending?
Bah, I mutter. Why I believe this shit in my head, I've no idea. Fucking defective sleeping pills.
Yet despite myself, I can't quite bring myself to the task of doing the job I get paid for - I basically act as one of 5 digital secretaries for this guy out in New York, so I rearrange files, call people, that type of stuff. Nothing compared to my days of grilling suspects back in the force, but it pays the bills. Yet I find my fingers typing in Google something entirely different.
Maybe I'll call in sick today. I heard you could do that a few times.
Research any unusual happenings in or around the city, at present or in the past few years. Unusual as in supernatural, just plain creepy of the cultist kind, etc.
Inventory:
Pajamas
In pockets:
Nothing
Location:
Home. (Quality apartment downtown)
Time: 6:30 AM Dec 1st.
Your searching brings up a few sites, mostly blogs by locals about urban myths or questionable accounts of disappearances or satanic cults. Many of them appear to date from the 1980's and often fishtail into greater and greater depths of what could best be called "Conspiratorial Fan fiction." Despite your best efforts, your search reveals nothing that might hint at a cause for impending doom, nor any signs of it. At least for now.
Author
Topic: THE END IS NEAR : Warning: May be more rational than reality. (Read 49533 times)