Trainya
Nov 27, 2022 20:20:45 GMT -5
Post by Radrook Admin on Nov 27, 2022 20:20:45 GMT -5
We'll Train ya
In the year 2525, physical regeneration via interdimensional travel had become all the rage.
Just a short ride on a transdimentional cubicle, and the after-effects were claimed to be fantastic.
Cells were rejuvenated, hair loss reversed, sexual libido restored to former youthful vigor, in
short it was touted as the panacea for all human ailments. Of course, several companies had
sprung up overnight as is usually the case whenever humans sense that catering to human pride
and vanity will make them a profit.
As fate would have it, the physical benefits derived from inter-dimsional travel caught the
attention of African American aging football superstar Bill Johnson. In his younger years, Bill
Johnson would have ignored the whole hoopla. Then, he had been a great football player. But
now, the energies had waned and the injuries were holding him back So he paid for his ticked
on the first run of a newly-established company calling itself Trans-dimensional Unlimited, a
company recommended to him by his best friend who had already reaped the benefits.
When Johnson first arrived at the establishment, he was rather skeptical. It appeared like a
fly-by-night operation of sorts, with its brick walls and wood floors and a few extravagant
machines strewn about in what appeared to be a hasty haphazard manner. Except for the sleek
silver surfaced highly polished conically-shaped cubicle that hovered electromagnetically above
a luminous grid resembling a concave spider’s web with filaments surging with some type of
luminescent energy, the place could just as well have been some dilapidated abandoned
warehouse.
But no one could set up such a service without a license, and there it was, tacked prominently
on to the flaking white plastered wall for all to see. So Bill Johnson got in line with all the others
and waited. Soon his injured back and knees were beginning to throb. and he was about to lose
his cool. when this fellow arrived, whippped off his overcoat, and began to usher them inside.
"Alejandro Salazar is my name and transdimensional travel’s my game! Right this way! Let’s
rev her up and get this show on the road!” he said while readjusting his white, purple-striped
vest, rotated his bony shoulders and unusually long pencil neck, pivoted swiftly around in order
to get down to the business of navigating at the transdimensional helm, as they romantically
called the vehicle's elaborate control panel.
"Man this is gonna be great!” a shirtless, profusely tattooed young man sporting a crimson
Mohawk said while balling his fist and taking a swap at the air.
“Always wanted to see all these dimensions with my own eyes!” he shouted.
"Yeah great! Yeah!" the toothless octogenarian lady echoed.
There were two rows of seats and Bill Johnson took his seat at the back far fro all thte others. .
But Alejandro, the guy in charge of navigating the cublicle didn't move. Instead he remained
with hands frozen above the control panel staring aghast at the totally unfamiliar bewildering
array of lights, knobs switches and buttons that were blinking in a seemingly disorganized way in
front of him . He had expected his assigned vehicle to be identical to those used in the company
training simulation, but this , this complex insanity he had never seen before.
True, he had taken a basic course in transdimensional cubical piloting, but had only passed the
course with a C minus. Add to that the ten years that had elapsed since then and the new
technological innovations that had been made during that time period to the brew, and well, hell,
he hadn't expected that much innovation. A little bit of rust here and there, but not this crazy
labyrinthine mess. True, he had faked his grades and falsified his job credentials. But who
could blame him. It was either that or a job on a manure-filtering transport between Alpha
Centaury system and Earth. Or clinkering along in the crumbling streets of some god forsaken
far-flung alien colony asking for handouts. Who could blame him?
For a split of second he felt that honesty woud be the best policy. Better to tell these fine
folk that he wasn't qualified and let the chips fall where they might.
"Well what the hell are you waiting for?" the hulkish Bill Johnson shouted.as he readjusted his
oversized frame to the undersized seat which creaked in protest like a tortured cat.
“Yeah what you waiting for sleaze ball?" a toothless female centenarian squeaked with a far-
gone vacant stare and her meaningless smile.
Salazar couldn’ t pilot this damn thing. He could probably hurl it forward into an
uncontrollable spin that would cut a swath of death and destruction as it went along. But so could
anyone else in the cubicle for that matter.
“Just do what you learned at training! It s more or less all the same!" the testosterone oversexed
company trainer assigned to him had said as he went off on an unauthorized vacation with that
Chinese bombshell secretary, Chingching Sunababy, as he called her.
Suddenly Alejandro felt like bolting for the exit. He could probably get past the fat man and
the centenarians and the others, but he knew that I couldn't get past Bill Johnson. Neither did he
expect to survive if Bill Johnson attacked him physically. Furthermore all of them were equally
disgruntled, so he couldn’t count with eyewitness support for his assault and battery
case .
For a split second, he remembered having seen Bill Johnson in one of his games. How the
behemoth had plowed through a solid wall of interceptors left some of them writhing in pain and
finally reached the goal line. How he had raised the ball high above his head in triumph and then
had savagely slammed it against the ground before spiking it. Then he imagined himself in a full
body cast and permanently paralyzed.
"It's OK folks just a minor glitch nothing to worry about."Alejando uttered nervously in order to
buy himseolf some time.
"Man! What you mean nothing to worry about? You been standing in front of that control panel
now for five minutes doing she it man! What exactly is your problem?" Jonhson bellowed.
"There is no problem I assure you sir!"
"Then assure me by giving me what I paid for. Let's go!"
"Yeah! Let's go!" the toothless centenarian said dribbling some saliva on her blouse and sipping
some soda through a straw. Her octogenarian boyfriend weakly dabbed the mess away with his
quivering hand and then they shared a toothless kiss.
Meanwhile, Alexandro Salazar tried desperately to recall just what was involved. Yeah, that's
right, the central switches controlled yaw, Wait a minute? What was yaw? Wasn't yaw a
directional term limited to fourth dimensional space? No! That couldn't be it cause he clearly
recalled his instructor yell out "Yaw!" whenever he pressed the switch that sent the
transdimentional cubicle simulator careening through the 2n dimensional training instructive
paces.
Ah now he remembered, the central switch arrangements were for yaw. OK. Now all he had
to do was figure out which one of them among the ten would begin the one-dimensional
oscillation process. Alexander felt a momentary sense of self pride in having remembered some
of the terminology.
“Listen chump!" Alexander felt his right shoulder as if in a vice and heard a pop as the ball joint
dislocated. He was now looking up at Bill Johnson and grimacing in pain.
“You either give us the experience we paid for or reimburse us our money right now. I don't trust
you anymore.""
“That's right!” A little chubby red lollypop mouthed kid wrapped in a black and white T shirt
who was sitting next to his snoring, mumbling mother said.
“We don't trust your skinny ass no more!”
“So just open the door and let us out!" Johnson added and winked at the brat.
Now that request would have been simple if it had been a simulator. But the truth was that
Alexander didn't have the slightest idea of which one of the switches opened the door. But he
couldn’t say that to Bill Johnson, at least not if he valued his newly reconstituted teeth that had
cost him two-weeks pay and twenty days worth of agony. .
“I said open the door and let us out moron!"
Bill Johnson shook Alexander by the shoulder, momentarily making him feel like a marionette
being manipulated by a puppeteer.
"OK! OK! I'm thinking!"
"Say what? You thinking? What the hell! You don't even know how to open the door to this
thing?"
"To be perfectly honest?"
“Yeah be perfectly honest!"
“I don't!"
"But you did know how to close it and throw that damn switch before right?"
"Well I guess I did."
“What was that switch all about anyway?"
Bill Johnson intensified his gaze on Alexander’s skinny face as if he wished he could obliterate it
with the intensity.
"The switch?" Alexander asked nervously shifting about like a cornered rabbit about to bolt.
"Yeah the switch. The goddamned switch you threw after the door had shut?"
"Well, that's to prime the engines!"
"But we don't need primed engines now do we?"
"No sir we don't"
“Then turn them off" Bill Johnson bellowed as he’ d always bellowed during all his football
playing college days. With the bellow came the surge and with the surge came the victory. But
this time it was not to be.
“I can’t turn them off sir!” Alejandro whimpered as he vigorously tried to get his shoulder back
in place by holding his arm at different angles.
“Why not?”
"Well sir, after engines are primed, they can't be turned off until they have dissipated all the dark
energy they accumulated from the priming"
“And just how do they dissipate"
"Well sir, they dissipate by hurling the trans dimensional cubicle through trans dimensional
space."
"But it can't do that unless you throw a switch -right? Bill said in a nervous laugh-talking-
sobbing way.
"Well sir technically no.”
"What do you mean technically no?"
"Well, you see sir, a failsafe kicks in if dissipation doesn't start fast enough."
"Kicks in and does what?"
"Well sir, it kicks in and throws the cubicle into drive. You know, like a jump-starts on those
ancient things called cars."
“You mean to tell me this thing will be out of control?"
Bill Johnson's eyes were bulging and he was baring his teeth. He looked just as he did in
those photos where he was about to tackle savagely or was savagely tackling an opposing
player. He gave out a deep primeval grunt, lurched forward and he reached out to grab
Alexander’scrawny neck. Then he saw his hands begin to dissolve, colors merge, walls
undulate and fade.
He was finally getting what he had paid for a transdimentional ride of his life on a
transdimentional cubicle-albeit with no pilot. Bill Johnson could have sworn he heard the
toothless centenarian and her octogenarian boyfriend yell Touchdown! before he blacked out
after a transdimensional creature who resembled the Hulk suddenly appeared and tackled him..
In the year 2525, physical regeneration via interdimensional travel had become all the rage.
Just a short ride on a transdimentional cubicle, and the after-effects were claimed to be fantastic.
Cells were rejuvenated, hair loss reversed, sexual libido restored to former youthful vigor, in
short it was touted as the panacea for all human ailments. Of course, several companies had
sprung up overnight as is usually the case whenever humans sense that catering to human pride
and vanity will make them a profit.
As fate would have it, the physical benefits derived from inter-dimsional travel caught the
attention of African American aging football superstar Bill Johnson. In his younger years, Bill
Johnson would have ignored the whole hoopla. Then, he had been a great football player. But
now, the energies had waned and the injuries were holding him back So he paid for his ticked
on the first run of a newly-established company calling itself Trans-dimensional Unlimited, a
company recommended to him by his best friend who had already reaped the benefits.
When Johnson first arrived at the establishment, he was rather skeptical. It appeared like a
fly-by-night operation of sorts, with its brick walls and wood floors and a few extravagant
machines strewn about in what appeared to be a hasty haphazard manner. Except for the sleek
silver surfaced highly polished conically-shaped cubicle that hovered electromagnetically above
a luminous grid resembling a concave spider’s web with filaments surging with some type of
luminescent energy, the place could just as well have been some dilapidated abandoned
warehouse.
But no one could set up such a service without a license, and there it was, tacked prominently
on to the flaking white plastered wall for all to see. So Bill Johnson got in line with all the others
and waited. Soon his injured back and knees were beginning to throb. and he was about to lose
his cool. when this fellow arrived, whippped off his overcoat, and began to usher them inside.
"Alejandro Salazar is my name and transdimensional travel’s my game! Right this way! Let’s
rev her up and get this show on the road!” he said while readjusting his white, purple-striped
vest, rotated his bony shoulders and unusually long pencil neck, pivoted swiftly around in order
to get down to the business of navigating at the transdimensional helm, as they romantically
called the vehicle's elaborate control panel.
"Man this is gonna be great!” a shirtless, profusely tattooed young man sporting a crimson
Mohawk said while balling his fist and taking a swap at the air.
“Always wanted to see all these dimensions with my own eyes!” he shouted.
"Yeah great! Yeah!" the toothless octogenarian lady echoed.
There were two rows of seats and Bill Johnson took his seat at the back far fro all thte others. .
But Alejandro, the guy in charge of navigating the cublicle didn't move. Instead he remained
with hands frozen above the control panel staring aghast at the totally unfamiliar bewildering
array of lights, knobs switches and buttons that were blinking in a seemingly disorganized way in
front of him . He had expected his assigned vehicle to be identical to those used in the company
training simulation, but this , this complex insanity he had never seen before.
True, he had taken a basic course in transdimensional cubical piloting, but had only passed the
course with a C minus. Add to that the ten years that had elapsed since then and the new
technological innovations that had been made during that time period to the brew, and well, hell,
he hadn't expected that much innovation. A little bit of rust here and there, but not this crazy
labyrinthine mess. True, he had faked his grades and falsified his job credentials. But who
could blame him. It was either that or a job on a manure-filtering transport between Alpha
Centaury system and Earth. Or clinkering along in the crumbling streets of some god forsaken
far-flung alien colony asking for handouts. Who could blame him?
For a split of second he felt that honesty woud be the best policy. Better to tell these fine
folk that he wasn't qualified and let the chips fall where they might.
"Well what the hell are you waiting for?" the hulkish Bill Johnson shouted.as he readjusted his
oversized frame to the undersized seat which creaked in protest like a tortured cat.
“Yeah what you waiting for sleaze ball?" a toothless female centenarian squeaked with a far-
gone vacant stare and her meaningless smile.
Salazar couldn’ t pilot this damn thing. He could probably hurl it forward into an
uncontrollable spin that would cut a swath of death and destruction as it went along. But so could
anyone else in the cubicle for that matter.
“Just do what you learned at training! It s more or less all the same!" the testosterone oversexed
company trainer assigned to him had said as he went off on an unauthorized vacation with that
Chinese bombshell secretary, Chingching Sunababy, as he called her.
Suddenly Alejandro felt like bolting for the exit. He could probably get past the fat man and
the centenarians and the others, but he knew that I couldn't get past Bill Johnson. Neither did he
expect to survive if Bill Johnson attacked him physically. Furthermore all of them were equally
disgruntled, so he couldn’t count with eyewitness support for his assault and battery
case .
For a split second, he remembered having seen Bill Johnson in one of his games. How the
behemoth had plowed through a solid wall of interceptors left some of them writhing in pain and
finally reached the goal line. How he had raised the ball high above his head in triumph and then
had savagely slammed it against the ground before spiking it. Then he imagined himself in a full
body cast and permanently paralyzed.
"It's OK folks just a minor glitch nothing to worry about."Alejando uttered nervously in order to
buy himseolf some time.
"Man! What you mean nothing to worry about? You been standing in front of that control panel
now for five minutes doing she it man! What exactly is your problem?" Jonhson bellowed.
"There is no problem I assure you sir!"
"Then assure me by giving me what I paid for. Let's go!"
"Yeah! Let's go!" the toothless centenarian said dribbling some saliva on her blouse and sipping
some soda through a straw. Her octogenarian boyfriend weakly dabbed the mess away with his
quivering hand and then they shared a toothless kiss.
Meanwhile, Alexandro Salazar tried desperately to recall just what was involved. Yeah, that's
right, the central switches controlled yaw, Wait a minute? What was yaw? Wasn't yaw a
directional term limited to fourth dimensional space? No! That couldn't be it cause he clearly
recalled his instructor yell out "Yaw!" whenever he pressed the switch that sent the
transdimentional cubicle simulator careening through the 2n dimensional training instructive
paces.
Ah now he remembered, the central switch arrangements were for yaw. OK. Now all he had
to do was figure out which one of them among the ten would begin the one-dimensional
oscillation process. Alexander felt a momentary sense of self pride in having remembered some
of the terminology.
“Listen chump!" Alexander felt his right shoulder as if in a vice and heard a pop as the ball joint
dislocated. He was now looking up at Bill Johnson and grimacing in pain.
“You either give us the experience we paid for or reimburse us our money right now. I don't trust
you anymore.""
“That's right!” A little chubby red lollypop mouthed kid wrapped in a black and white T shirt
who was sitting next to his snoring, mumbling mother said.
“We don't trust your skinny ass no more!”
“So just open the door and let us out!" Johnson added and winked at the brat.
Now that request would have been simple if it had been a simulator. But the truth was that
Alexander didn't have the slightest idea of which one of the switches opened the door. But he
couldn’t say that to Bill Johnson, at least not if he valued his newly reconstituted teeth that had
cost him two-weeks pay and twenty days worth of agony. .
“I said open the door and let us out moron!"
Bill Johnson shook Alexander by the shoulder, momentarily making him feel like a marionette
being manipulated by a puppeteer.
"OK! OK! I'm thinking!"
"Say what? You thinking? What the hell! You don't even know how to open the door to this
thing?"
"To be perfectly honest?"
“Yeah be perfectly honest!"
“I don't!"
"But you did know how to close it and throw that damn switch before right?"
"Well I guess I did."
“What was that switch all about anyway?"
Bill Johnson intensified his gaze on Alexander’s skinny face as if he wished he could obliterate it
with the intensity.
"The switch?" Alexander asked nervously shifting about like a cornered rabbit about to bolt.
"Yeah the switch. The goddamned switch you threw after the door had shut?"
"Well, that's to prime the engines!"
"But we don't need primed engines now do we?"
"No sir we don't"
“Then turn them off" Bill Johnson bellowed as he’ d always bellowed during all his football
playing college days. With the bellow came the surge and with the surge came the victory. But
this time it was not to be.
“I can’t turn them off sir!” Alejandro whimpered as he vigorously tried to get his shoulder back
in place by holding his arm at different angles.
“Why not?”
"Well sir, after engines are primed, they can't be turned off until they have dissipated all the dark
energy they accumulated from the priming"
“And just how do they dissipate"
"Well sir, they dissipate by hurling the trans dimensional cubicle through trans dimensional
space."
"But it can't do that unless you throw a switch -right? Bill said in a nervous laugh-talking-
sobbing way.
"Well sir technically no.”
"What do you mean technically no?"
"Well, you see sir, a failsafe kicks in if dissipation doesn't start fast enough."
"Kicks in and does what?"
"Well sir, it kicks in and throws the cubicle into drive. You know, like a jump-starts on those
ancient things called cars."
“You mean to tell me this thing will be out of control?"
Bill Johnson's eyes were bulging and he was baring his teeth. He looked just as he did in
those photos where he was about to tackle savagely or was savagely tackling an opposing
player. He gave out a deep primeval grunt, lurched forward and he reached out to grab
Alexander’scrawny neck. Then he saw his hands begin to dissolve, colors merge, walls
undulate and fade.
He was finally getting what he had paid for a transdimentional ride of his life on a
transdimentional cubicle-albeit with no pilot. Bill Johnson could have sworn he heard the
toothless centenarian and her octogenarian boyfriend yell Touchdown! before he blacked out
after a transdimensional creature who resembled the Hulk suddenly appeared and tackled him..