Paradise Plaza

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    In the miasmal sky, the sun seared stoically above the archaeologists as they toiled through torrid travail. The scientists sweltered in silence until a young man’s shout of jubilation wracked the lingering sense of ennui.

    "Come over here, guys! I discovered a new one!"

    A grey haired man with spectacled approached the eager youth. "The excavation of this ruin has been considered fait accompli for ten years, and you expostulate before us that you have discovered a new ruin?

    He ignored the professor’s sardonic tone and nodded, pupils ripe with anticipation. "It isn’t on the map, Doctor."

    "Very well, Max, lets see this espial." The elder rolled his eyes.

    Max led the party down a path obscured by sheared girders and crumbled masonry. The investigators circumambulated skeletons of cars and husks of arships, until Max stood triumphantly atop a pile of industrial offal, and lifted a tarp. His comarades stood agape. The professor cleaned his glasses and blinked several times. A tunnel admitted entry into a subway corridor that had been luxated by a tectonic upheaval.

    The professor whitened suddenly. "We need to report this to the WAAC immediately!" and turned and began to scurry away.

    But no other scientist made a move.

    A towering blonde man called to the white haired man. "Come on Dr. Peterson! Where’s your legendary sense of adventure? The World Anthropology and Archaeology Confederation would be far more interested if we had some artifacts to present to them.

    "Fine, Dr. 129" The man stuck out his tongue and slowly led the team into the cavern.

    The scientists photographed every inch of the derelict venue. They navigated through wreckage until a metallic percussive sound attracted everyone’s attention.


    The lanky blonde geologist staggered to his feet, a livid red dash and a dented aluminum pipe narrating the tale to everyone.

    "Are you alright?" Max asked.

    "I see light!" The man cried.

    "Photomata?" A medic somewhere in the group suggested.

    "No at the end of the tunnel!" 129 pointed.

    "Oh dear…" Dr. Peterson mumbled under his breath.

    The gang stepped through a hole in the wall to enter a bizzare edifice.

    "What could this have been?"

    The question was never answered, for at that moment, Dr. Peterson suddenly darted down a hallway, his white capped head reflecting the dull flicker of ancient light fixtures that were not quite defunct.

    "Peterman, wait! You don’t know what’s in this site!" The geologist ran after him, dodging the shreds of tile and sparkling bits of glass.

    He followed him into a room and gasped.

    The wrinkled, hoary man crouched on the floor, cradling a skeleton of metal and bone. The tall blonde doctor knelt and put a hand on the other man’s shoulder.

    "You’ve been here before, haven’t you?"

    The man nodded, looking smaller than ever as he sobbed. He wiped his final tears as the rest of the party caught up.

    "This place is awesome! I have no idea what this building was for!" Max cried

    Doctor Peterson rose and stared gravely at Max. "I know exactly what it was used for. You see, this building was known as the Pentagon."

    Every jaw in the room but one fell to the floor. Dr. 129 began to laugh. "I reckon you’ll tell us about Atlantis and Lemuria next."

    "This is the Pentagon! I used to work here, Kurian!" Dr. Peterson’s gaze threatened to sear a hole into his co-worker until he looked downward, and sighed. " I have proof."

    The old man walked over to a ravaged desk and wedged a drawer open. A trembling hand procured a grayed digital photograph.

    "Krikey, James!" The medic exclaimed. "It is you!"

    Doctor Peterson nodded.

    "You must be older than Sophocles!" Max ventured.

    A laugh broke the doctor’s deportment. "I’m not that old, but close." He sighed again. "You probably want to know what happened here, and about me, and who this was…" He gestured at the ancient skeleton.

    "She’s a small one… only two meters long!" The medic examined the remains.

    "The was one of the tallest women in the world, when I was alive." The archaeologist sighed.

    "The world was a different place, back in the twenty first century." James began.

    "You lived during the Abyssmal Ages?" Max asked.

    "Yes… In fact, I was at the eye of the storm. Hell, I was the eye of the storm. Now as I was saying. The twenty first century was an era full of violence and barbarism."

    "What’s violence?" Kurien asked.

    "Violence… Well, it’s hard to explain, but it’s the reason why I have never talked about my past before. I’ll go into it later." James said in resignation.

    "The twenty first century was a very dissimilar time in many ways. For instance, that is a male human skeleton!" The old man pointed to a prostrate assemblage of bones."

    "He must have been huge!" Kurien interjected.

    James laughed. "His name was Colonel Neil Felding. He stood 181 centimeters tall, and walked with a limp. Indeed, even you’d be a shrimp next to these guys, Kurien."

    The blonde man, taken aback said, " Why aren’t you a giant, if you lived back then."

    "All right!" James snapped. "I was going to divulge that before the interruptions. Now! It all began in a mercatorium known as Paradise Plaza…." The white haired man paused a mintue to collect his thoughts and continued. "I was twenty one years old, like you, Max, and I was on Spring break at a place known as Fort Lauterdale and I was intoxicated, oblivious to the fact that I would soon reroute the tack of history…"


    Curioser and curiouser… please continue. 🙂


    Wow! I love a mystery! I have to confess that I’m totally curious as well. Please continue it.


    I can’t wait to see what wonderous woe this tale of Science Friction has in store for us.

    Please at your earliest convenience and even before, add installments 😉

    Looking good Axel3.14, has that interesting modern ruin feel of ‘Demolition Man’ 8)


    Thank you for the feedback, I’ll put a chapter up today.


    "Welcome to Paradise Plaza! The Date is April mgrphh, 2015… The time is—" A computerized sign stridently stuttered at James as he swerved into the parking lot.

    "Technology… so sublime, yet so stupid." A red headed passenger beside him mused.

    "Did you forget that frivolous technology is what is paying our way through college, Matt?" James laughed as he eased into a parking spot.

    "Shut up and get the juice! The party starts in fifteen minutes." Somebody barked from behind.

    "Chill, Chuck. I’ll be right back." James took the keys, locked his car and ran into a suburban grocery store. Ignorning the fetor of overripened vegetables and sulfurous eggs, he found few cartons of orange juice. They would expire tomorrow, but by that time they would most certainly be empty.

    Arms precariously wrapped around six gallons of orange juice, James ran out of the store and opened the trunk. He barely opened the cooler when his strength lapsed, Causing them all to drop beside a ten pound bag of ice. Back in the car, James chided, "Thanks for the help, guys."

    "We might’ve had time to help, if you didn’t drive like a tortise."

    "Your logic is impenetrable, Bill! When we survive the chaos of downtown Florida in my car, you’ll have me to blame."

    "James! Your hand!"

    "What, Chuck? Oh!" A rivulet of blood was flowing from James’ finger. He dislodged the shard of glass from within.

    "How’d that happen?" Matt pointed at the gaping wound.

    "I’m not sure, but the misnomer laden Paradise Market is in such deplorable condition that I wouldn’t go in there again with an NBC suit! Broken glass strewn about would not surprise me in the least."

    Fifteen minutes later, The four found themselves arriving at a boisterous frat party.

    "Time to be drunk on something other than anticipation…" James muttered eagerly. The four exited the car, and walked several blocks to the gate when waylaid by a half naked sentry.

    "Halt, which sorority are you from?" The galligant pressed his face up to James, who recoiled at the halitosis.

    "He’s with us, man. We’re from a different chapter, but still, we’re wearing the colors!" Bill interceded.

    "And that changes nothing! I’ve never seen you before either. Maybe I’d better call the…"

    The predicate of that sentence would remain unknown, as Chuck shoved past James and bellowed. "Pi square Chi/ Faithful til we die/ Step up to the hotties and score some thigh!" The rotund student accompanied his verses with a series of familiar hand gestures.

    "That was barbarius and misogynistic, but effective…" James rolled his eyes.

    "Damn Straight! What sorority are you from anyway…?" Chuck chortled.

    "Hai-ya!" James fluidly performed a roundhouse that stopped half a foot from Chuck’s pelvis. "Where do we put the cooler? This thing is freezing!"

    "Drop it by the wet bar." Matt shrugged. James obliged, checked the cooler’s batteries, and turned its cryostat down a few degrees.

    "Now what do I do…?" James stared at the crowd.

    "Mingle, interface, whatever you geeks call it. This is a party."

    James walked over to a couch on which a freshman leaned unattentively. "Hey… uh, dude. What’s your oppinion on the… Gorlmon’s meta-lipoic membrane hypothesis." He sweltered as he waited for the guy to answer.

    "Meeuuhh! BLECHH!" A liter of ejecta painted James’ shoes.

    "You contaminated my Florshiems you ignominious cretin!" He turned away before the drunkard could disgorge a rebuttal. "On that note, I still have yet to try alcohol! He went to the bar and demanded. "I want a screwdriver."

    A foreign fluid was placed before him. "Another!" He yelled after bibing it.

    After the third dose he sprang onto the table, "Ambrosia of Heaven!" He cried and leapt off, miraculously performing two rotations in midair before landing on his feet, then buttocks. James stood up and saw a stunning paragon of female pulchritude.

    "Hey baby! Plow my fields!" James grinned asymetrically at the strange woman. At that moment, he felt a hand pressing his face against that of the woman, who was moved by a similar vector.

    "Woah Hoo!!!!! Girls making out! Girls making out over here!" A frat guy yelled.

    After being released by the brute. James’ face became bright red. He jabbed his finger incoherently into the man’s chest. "I’m not a girl! I’m a shibonen!" He screamed, unaware of his metathesis. At that moment he felt an arm circle around him and spirit him away. "Matt?"

    "You were right. You don’t belong in parties. Now I’m going to take you inside before you do any more damage." Matt escourted his friend into a bedroom, propped him up against a bed, and placed a bucket on his lap. "I’ll stay here until you’re sober."

    "I am sshhober" James asserted with impatience.

    Unconvinced, matt asked, "If you’re sober, tell me the quadratic formula, and I’ll let you go."

    "Uhhhmm. Negative pi plusserminus the square root of b squared minus four Ab all over uh.. Arrrgh..!" James’ shirt suddenly matched his shoes.

    "Wrong. I’ll sit here until you feel better."

    "Don’t you wanna copulashion??"

    "Yes, but it seems that all the girls here are taken. Tey to remember that."

    They sat reticent in the darkness six minutes until James began to cry. "I wanna be at the conference!"

    Matt sighed. "I wanted to be there too, but that little kiss-ass Bertum conviced the professor that it would look more prestigious to him if he implied that he did it himself."

    James’ body lurched forward. "I hate that little prig. I’d ablate him from the universe him if he were… err " James fell back in a narcoleptic trance as he began to snore.

    Matt positioned James in a safe and sanitary position before the bucket and let him sleep. "Little one twenty six pound lightweight." He grumbled as he slipped out of the room.


    All you need is Ogre from ‘Revenge of The Nerds’ and this collision of young minds and alcohol would be complete.

    It’s nice that the characters are being established before the prophetic fall of civilization.

    Keep on posting and I’ll keep on reading.


    Meanwhile, in a hotel room, a man in a lab coat reviewed an intricate diorama on a desk. It displayed a recondite illustration of a process that resembled phagocytosis. He turned to a short, dark haired young man and muttered.

    "Mr. Bertrum, is all the equipment ready?"

    The student scrambled around the room, counting everything. He stopped before a refrigerated crate.

    "Ten… eleven.. T-twelve."

    The doctor pored over his papers, paying his minion no heed. "Is everything in order?"

    "Y-yes doctor…"

    The elder man raised his head and glared. "Except…"

    Bertrum’s face whitened. "One of the genetic insert tubules is missing," he squeaked.

    The professor sighed and shrugged. "This is just a minor setback."

    His college gasped. "But we spent so much time creating those formula. It’s the most important part of the procedure."

    The professor laughed, "I figured that one of those bonobos would drop one, or misplace one in packing, so I made some extra serum. Honestly, I couldn’t trust them to do a Grahm stain properly."

    Bertrum nodded obsequiously.

    He continued. "Bertrum, son, there’s nothing to worry about. First, to remain active, the serum must be stored in an environment that does not exceed ten degrees centigrade. Then it must be injected intervenously, followed by administration of citronoid acid one hour afterward. Furthermore, the serum shows no effect on animals other than mice. Even if an entire flask of it were to escape into the environment, the amount of havoc it could wreak would be minimal. So there’s no rational cause for alarm."

    "What is the forumla for Citronoid acid again."

    The hoary man shrugged again. "I’m too tired to list all the components of that right now. Go call James Peterson if you need to know. He’s the eidetiker. I haven’t eaten for twelve point seven hours. It’s time for dinner."

    The two men locked up their scientific equipment securely and walked down the hall, noticing the unflinching security guards posted every few meters.

    What they did not notice was a young redhead in a maid outfit pushing a nondecript covered dish nearby. She ran to the corner, lifted the dish, and, after glancing to assure herself that no humans or cameras were around, she reached into the turkey on the silver platter and pulled out a telecommunication device. She pressed three buttons and crouched into the corner.

    " Maid to the Hamper.

    Maid to the Hamper!

    I’ve determined that security is too tight to make our move here. but we have a new target. His name is James Peterson, and he knows what we want."

    The woman listened to the response and concluded. "Yes sir. immediately."


    😡 you need to write faster 😉 😆 ! it’s geting very intresting.


    Sorry about the pace. I have a number of health problems, school concerns and computer availability issues that seem to collude against me. I’m also a stickler for plot integrity, like J.K. Rowlings, but I won’t let the lacunae get too large.

    – I’ll put up a quick short story up elsewhere soon.


    Sorry about the pace. I have a number of health problems, school concerns and computer availability issues that seem to collude against me. I’m also a stickler for plot integrity, like J.K. Rowlings, but I won’t let the lacunae get too large.

    – I’ll put up a quick short story up elsewhere soon.

    hay no prob ➡ I’d rather you take your time and get things the way you want, and take care of you RL first and formost.

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