As befitting this masterpiece, here is its own thread.

Go yabor!

A Scandal in Arcadia

To Thalock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Lizzy More. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the Mac world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was Lizzy More.

It was some time before the health of my friend Mr. Thalock Holmes recovered from the strain caused by his immense exertions in his crusade against Crapple. The whole question of the Unix-NeXT Company and of the colossal schemes of Baron Jops to create a race of super-chimps are too recent in the minds of the public, and are too intimately concerned with slavery and bestial GUI porn to be fitting subjects for this series of sketches.
They led, however, in an indirect fashion to a singular and complex problem which gave my friend an opportunity of demonstrating the value of a fresh weapon among the many with which he waged his lifelong battle against crap.

On referring to my files I see that it was upon the first of July 2004 that I received an email from Crapertino which informed me that Thalock was lying ill in the Hotel Shitz. Within twenty-four hours I was in his sick-room and was relieved to find that there was nothing formidable in his symptoms. Even his platinum constitution, however, had broken down under the strain of an investigation which had extended over four upgrades, during which period he had never beta-tested less than fifteen hours a day and had more than once, as he assured me, fed back for five days at a stretch. Even the triumphant issue of his labors could not save him from reaction after so terrible an exertion, and at a time when the Mac community was ringing with his name and when his studio was literally ankle-deep in congratulatory emails I found him a prey to the blackest depression. Even the knowledge that he had succeeded where the police of three planets had failed, and that he had outmanoeuvred at every point the most accomplished con man in the Solar System, was insufficient to rouse him from his nervous prostration.

Three days later we were back in Baiter Street together; but it was evident that my friend would be much the better for a change, and the thought of a week of springtime on Mars was full of attractions for me also. My young friend, Lizzy More, who had come under my professional care in Blurrystan, had now taken a house on the slopes of Olympus Mons, in the Arcadia Planitia province, and had frequently asked me to come up to her upon a visit. On the last occasion she had remarked that if my friend would only come with me she would be glad to extend her hospitality to him also. A little persuasion was needed, but when Thalock understood that Lizzy was a member of the Grey-headed League, and that he would be allowed the fullest freedom, he fell in with my plans and a week after our return from Crapertino we were enjoying dinner under Lizzy's roof.

Our meal was a merry one. Thalock could talk exceedingly well when he choose, and that night he did choose. I have never known him so brilliant. He spoke on a quick succession of subjects - on trout fishing, on mediaeval torture with command lines, on Stradivarius viopods, on the Nineism of Tritan and on the sushi chefs of Neptune - handling each as though he had made a special study of it. His bright humour marked the reaction from his black depression of the preceding days.

to be continued

[This message was edited by yabor on Thu January 15 2004 at 09:06 AM.]

And here I was, thinking the Silly had run its course for the time being. But it's back with a vengeance. Yeah, really, no crap, thalock.

Sherlock was a morphine addict. Is thalock a "lessphine" addict? LOL.

brother yabor, once again, you never fail to amaze.

"lessphine"

Actually, Holmes was a cocaine addict, gave himself injections. However, Lizzy's evil (or maybe just silly) brother Morris will appear in the story.

Glad you like it so far.

quote:

---

A Scandal in Arcadia

---

Ah yes, good ol' Irena Adler, if memory serves. You're doing one of my favorites, Jan. I've read every Holmes book there is.

back in Baiter Street together

Oh, how appropriate. When does the evil More-is-Moriarty enter?

If ever a thread deserved the "sticky" feature, it is this one.

I then recounted to Liz some of our adventures: The shocking affair of the Cupertinan Starship “Stability”, which so nearly cost us both our lives; the case of RicoX the notorious slug-trainer; the repulsive story of the blue leech; the story of the Open Sore of Darwinia (a story for which the world is not yet prepared); the singular affair of the aluminot crutch; the problem connected with the Geek Interpreter; the mystery of The Upgrade Ritual; and finally the Curious Experience of the Gui Family on the Island of Dos.

Without bothering to ask our hostess for permission, Thalock lay down on the sofa and gave himself an injection of classic cocaine, in his nonchalant manner - a little weakness of his, a habit picked up during the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of New Holland. (If truth be told, my porn addiction dates from this self-same mission. I blame the Dutch. Talk about liberals. Amsterdam is a sewer. But that’s another story.)

"To think that you - you of all men - should be under my roof, Mr. Holmes," Lizzy began, and then, suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about his neck, and sobbed upon his shoulder. "Oh, I'm in such trouble!" she cried; "I do so want a little help." That was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to Thalock like birds to a lighthouse, laying bare their hearts and souls without - and it pains me to say this - any moderation whatsoever.

“I am anxious about my kid brother Morris,” Liz More continued. “The facts are these, Mr. Holmes. A gullible digikid, Morris has gone off to Mare Reichenbach on the Moon in the company of a recent acquaintance of his, a certain Professor Mith “Tea” Darrimoor, who seemed to me to be a very shady character. I cannot tell you the loathing and horror with which this egghead inspired me. Morris has not e-mailed for ten days. What is Darrimoor up to? I am so frightened about Morris!”

“By Jove, Professor Darrimoor, the elusive scientific criminal, as famous among crooks and crap-settlers as he is unknown to decent people,” cried Thalock, swinging his tall ascetic figure from the sofa and gesticulating with his long nervous hands. There was a dead-white tinge in his aquiline face. “I say, Bratson, what o’clock is it? Book us passage on the first available shuttle to the Moon. We must act swiftly, or humanity might well be in big trouble indeed. For it is all too obvious what heinous crime Darrimoor is planning to commit on the Moon. I see it, I deduce it. Nothing but energy can save us now. My dear Bratson, you’ll come with me?”

“When you like and where you like.”

“I have a private ship in orbit, beautifully designed,” said Liz. “The ‘Jon Ive 221 B’. We can leave right now, the three of us. I won’t get in your way, Mr. Holmes.”

“Excellent, Miss More!,” cried Thalock. Suit up, Bratson, suit up! The game is afoot!”

to be continued ... hey, Brad, why don't you write the next episode? That would be fun.

hey, Brad, why don't you write the next episode? That would be fun.

All I've got to say to that, Jan, is:

When you have eliminated the fat and dumb, then whatever remains, however Platinum, must be ungoofed.

I'd love to continue your story but not sure it's in me right now.

Ok, Jan, with that I AM stickying this amazing thread. And I might go to work on a later episode!

I have created a Sticky Thread monster.

In the shuttle on our way to the ‘Jon Ive’ in orbit, Liz piloting, I engaged Thalock in conversation about the universe that we saw spinning around us in all its glory.

“Beautiful, eh, Thalock?” I said. “Where does it all come from? What’s the purpose of it all? Is there a God? Oh, the mystery of it all. The mind boggles.”

“Once you cut through all the crap, Bratson,” replied Thalock, “you’ll see that our universe, and all life in it, is governed by the principle of Less Is More. Nature just works that way. Hell, every child knows this. Dr. Einstein explained it quite well, back in 1905 and more explicitly in 1917.”

“And therefore our human civilization, Bratson, MUST be based on the same principle - or perish. All things that are good and decent derive from Less Is More. Repeat after me: Less Is More. Less. Is. More. Anything else would result in barbarism. This is perhaps not so well-known. I’ve written a little monograph on the subject, elaborating on my Ten Less-Is-More Theses that mark the borderline between civilization and evil barbarous crap, frankly.”

“My dear Bratson, have you ever thought about Einstein, the man? Why was his hair so long? LESS visits to the barber, MORE hair, Bratson! Simple, once you cut through all the crap and stop to really think about it. And what about his name? The name of the greatest man who ever lived, the genius who gave us the Theory of Lessismority? Einstein means Onestone. Not Zweistein - Twostone. Not Dreistein - Threestone. One Stone. Less is more, Bratson, Less is More! And note this: -ein, -ein: the name consists of one simple sound, modulated. A hard-hitting, unbloated, crisp, gloriously less-is-more name. A mere coincidence, this name for this man? What do you say, Bratson?”

“I see it now. Of course this cannot be coincidence! How could it? Why have I not noticed this before? One Stone. You never cease to amaze me, Thalock.”

“Very good, Bratson! Except that, hey, OF COURSE it’s but a mere coincidence. How could it not be? But it’s a HAPPY coincidence. You’re right in that respect. Are we nearing the ‘Jon Ive’ yet, Lizzy?”

to be continued ... Hey, Miths, I hope you'll find the time to contribute to the story.

Less Is More

One Stone

(Thalock Holmes)

The “Jon Ive” was a fine-looking ship, but her iPulse engines left much to be desired. No wonder: the iPulse concept was originally meant for powering children’s toys, not professional ships. Lizzy announced that it would take us no less than ten bounces through Hyperspace to reach the moon. Thalock was displeased.

“Can’t we skip these iPulse engines, so-called, and go directly to warp?” he inquired.

“Alas no, Mr. Holmes, said Lizzy. “I’ve had to jettison the ship’s Open-Sores warp core. It was inherently unstable and made the ship a death trap. A flying coffin. I didn’t want to end up like the Cupertinan Starship “Stability”, did I?”

We shuddered.

“Yes, I’ve been had, Mr. Holmes,” Lizzy continued. I paid through the nose for what is basically a con job. A piece of useless space junk with no backbone. Still, can’t be helped now. Will you do me the honour of bouncing us out of space dock?”

But as it turned out that Thalock simply couldn’t bear to look at the ship’s GUI - one look at it had him reaching for the needle - it was decided that Liz would pilot the ship herself. Thalock did, however, as he observed the all but unreadable text on Lizzy’s control screen, wordlessly hand over his magnifying glass to her. She pushed buttons and colorful ads and spinning balls started appearing as the “Jon Ive” was warming up.

“This could take a while,” Liz announced . “As we wait, why don’t you explain to us, Mr. Holmes, what Darrimoor is up to on the Moon? What’s so special about the moon? And why did he take Morris with him?”

“Why, Darrimoor’s after the Monolith that’s buried there, of course,” said Thalock. “Elementary, my dear Liz. Let me explain ... "

“Monolith? What Monolith?” Liz and I cried, stunned.

“Bear with me,” said Thalock, “Now, ......

to be continued

[This message was edited by yabor on Sat January 17 2004 at 06:44 AM.]

“In the year 1984,” began Thalock, “a wonderful thing happened in what is now called the United Gates of America. I allude, of course, to the advent of the aliens we know as the Ahigs. The Ahigs were a wise and benevolent race - but humanity was not prepared for their guidance and wanted them gone. And so the Ahigs left. But before they left, they gave to a small group of humans, known to you as The Faithful, a tool so powerful, so stunningly RIGHT that it STILL boggles the mind - That was the Mac. Few people know this. You thought, Bratson, that the Mac was a human creation? Ha ha ha - the thought is plainly absurd. You see that now, don’t you?”

“Very clearly.”

“Thalock, you horrify me!” said Lizzy. “Humanity did not and does not need the Ahigs. Oh, I grant you the greatness of Macintosh. No argument there. But are not individual humans, and even entire nations, also capable of greatness? Take the Dutch. Have they not brought peace and harmony throughout the Solar System? All without the help of the Ahigs. And do we humans not appreciate the beauty of Nature, the harmony of Less Is More?”

“You know, Liz,” said Thalock, “it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my special subject. You look at the moons and planets of our Solar System and you are impressed by their beauty and harmony. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crap-settling may be committed there. Are we better off without the Ahigs? Pshaw, my dear girl!

“Anyway, I put it to you that not all Ahigs have left. You mentioned the Dutch. Do you not find it strange that such a tiny nation so suddenly, in a matter of years, achieved world domination? Their First Citizen Yabor, loved and revered throughout the Solar System and beyond - where did this guy come from? Who were his parents? No-one knows. He’s an orphan, they say, raised by the Thalonet Brotherhood. Yeah, right. Tell me another one. I put it to you, Lizzy, that this amazing Yabor is in fact not human at all but an Ahig! Improbable, you say? It is an old maxim of mine - isn’t it, Bratson? - that when you have ecxluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Does my reasoning strike you as being faulty, Bratson?

“No: it is clear and concise.”

“But this is mere speculation,” said Liz.

“It is more than that,” said Thalock. “It is the only hypothesis which covers the facts. In fact, Lizzy,” Thalock continued, “you do not fool me for a moment, girl: you are an Ahig too!

to be continued

quote:

---

…to be continued

---

Damn. I hate cliffhangers.

AQUA WARS Episode IV

A NEW HOPE

From the JOURNAL OF THE WOZ by the mighty johnq

Revised Fourth Draft January 15, 2004

JOHNQFILM LTD.


----------------------


A long time ago, in a garage far, far, away...


It is a period of civil war in the Mac universe. Rebel websites, striking from hidden servers, have won their first victory against the evil NeXT Empire. During the battle, Rebel spies managed to steal secret plans to the Empire's ultimate weapon, the Jobs OS, an armored operating system with enough security to lock out an entire planet. Pursued by the Empire's sinister agents, Princess .brad races home aboard her starship, custodian of the stolen code that can save her people and restore freedom to the Macheads...

I'm waiting for the appearance of Inspector Lesstrod of Squatland Yard.

Apparently, though, he's been stranded by a missing driver while trying to ford Cortsex Stream. A buggy driver might do—even a hack—but alas! poor Lesstrod, being terminally ignorant when it comes to Single Rider mode, is unable to mount any horses, and would scarcely know what commands to issue if he did; his only option would appear to be cold-booting his way to the other side...

Funny stuff, TMO.

Princess .brad races home aboard her starship

Why am I the one who always has to play in drag?

Lesstrod of Squatland Yard

That's first class wit, 9.5. And when can we anticipate the appearance of Mycro(s)ft Holmes?

quote:

---

And when can we anticipate the appearance of Mycro(s)ft Holmes?

---

Right back atcha, Brad.

Who the hell needs a Wiki with a crew of writers like this?!

If I could just figure out how to do MarkleSwell Smart (Agent 8.6)—fighting the evil kaOS on behalf of ConTroll...

Lizzy admitted it.

“But how did you find out, Mr. Holmes?” she asked.

I was asking myself the same question. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out my friend’s line of reasoning.

“Call me Thalock, Liz, please,” said Thalock, smiling. “How did I find out? It was simplicity itself. Please describe to me Dr. Bratson’s attire.”

“Dr. Bratson is sitting there clad in nothing but women's underwear. Nice Silk, Dr. Bratson. Unsanity’s? Nice colour too, gray. And I just love them two retro rainbow apples that you are using to stuff your bra with. Very tasteful indeed. My compliments. You obviously work out. Great body. Lean and mean.”

“Why thanks, Lizzy,” I said, moved - And then it dawned on me.

“There you have it,” cried Thalock.

“I fail to see ... “ said Liz.

“My dear Lizzy,” said Thalock. “A human, thus confronted with Dr. Bratson in the flesh, would at the very least raise an eyebrow. Some humans would even go so far, I dare say, as to make nasty comments. But you don’t bat an eyelid. Even now you “fail to see”. This fact tells me that you are not human. You belong to a superior race. And since according to the cosmic principle of Less Is More there cannot be more than two intelligent species in the universe, you have to be an Ahig.

“Excellent!” cried Lizzy.

“But elementary,” replied Thalock. “It is all patent and above-board. We come now, however, to a point which is of importance .... the Monolith. Is this damn ship ready to fly yet, Lizzy?”

... to be continued

[This message was edited by yabor on Sun January 18 2004 at 09:17 AM.]