Subject: HAPPY BIRTHDAY USA! - ADVENTURES IN SERVOLAND:
CHAPTER 1; Down the Hole...family
From: "Blackhawk" <janosprohaska@earthlink.net>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.tom-servo
Message-ID: <janosprohaska-11B722.01164104072001@nnrp05.earthlink.net>
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BLACKHAWKS ADVENTURES IN SERVOLAND
"Ah cruel Peeps! In such an hour,
Beneath such dreamy weather,
To beg a tale of hooks too weak
To stir the tiniest feather!
Yet what can one poor troll avail
Against three tongues together?
Imperious Lisa flashes forth
Her edict "to begin it":
In gentler tones WWS hopes
'There will be nonsense in it!'
While Cronan interrupts the tale
Not more than once a minute"
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CHAPTER I
Down the Hole...family
Blackhawk was beginning to get very tired of sitting by Captain Infinity
in the Moderated group, and of having nothing to do: once or twice he
had peeped into the post Captain Infinity was writing, but it had no
Science Fiction or jokes in it, `and what is the use of a post,' thought
Blackhawk `without Science Fiction or jokes?'
So he was considering in his own mind (as well as he could, for the
flames from the Claudia Christian controversy he was reading made him
feel very sleepy and stupid), whether the pleasure of writing up a troll
would be worth the trouble of sneaking it past the mods, when suddenly a
large telepathic yellow Peep with carnuba wax for eyes, wearing a
waistcoat, ran close by him.
There was nothing so very remarkable in that; nor did Blackhawk think it
so very much out of the way to hear the Peep say to itself, `Oh dear! Oh
dear! I have arrived to close to the beginning of the story! I'm
early!!' (when he thought it over afterwards, it occurred to him that he
ought to have wondered at this, but at the time it all seemed quite
natural); but when the Peep actually took out a copy of the script for
all 12 chapters of "Blackhawks' Adventures In Servoland" out of its
waistcoat-pocket, and looked at it, and then hurried on, Blackhawk
started to his feet, for it flashed across his mind that he had never
before seen so large a Peep with either a waistcoat-pocket, or a script
to take out of it, and since he'd missed all the rehearsals, he ran
across the Internet after it, and fortunately was just in time to see it
pop down a large hole...family under the bridge.
[Image] Large telepathic yellow Peep checking script
.- -.
.' _ \_
_ .| /9 )_\ *PEEP* I'm early!!I'm early!!*PEEP*
_.-'' \ /_/ ____________
<`' ..._\ <' _|Blackhawks ||
`._ .-' `. /'"/_|adventures ||
; `. .-'o\/'",_ | in ||
\ `~~' \_.'"' | Servoland ||
`"..."'% _ |___________||
\__ |`. BH \__________))
/`.
In another moment down went Blackhawk after it, never once considering
how in the world he was to get out again.
The hole...family went straight on like a tunnel for some way, and then
dipped suddenly down, so suddenly that Blackhawk had not a moment to
think about who he was stepping into before he found himself falling
down the Usenet hierarchy.
Either the hierarchy was very deep, or he fell very slowly, for he had
plenty of time as he went down to look about him and to wonder what was
going to happen next. First, he tried to look down and make out what he
was coming to, but it was too dark to see anything; then he looked at
the sides of the hierarchy, and noticed that they were filled with
Usenet posts and .sig lines; here and there he saw binaries and ASCII
pictures hung upon pegs. He began reading the names of hierarchies off
a series of giant tabs that hung from the walls;
3b.* and
3com.* he
3dfx.* drifted
3do.* on
5col.* 5org.* down the
Intel.* LocalAccess.* Usenet...
a.*
a21.* aaa.* ab.* abg.* abq.*
He took down a post from one of the boards as he passed; it was labelled
`***I LOVE MY FRIENDS AT ALT.TV.REAL-WORLD!!@!#****', but to his great
disappointment it was empty: he did not like to drop the post for fear
of killing somebody, so managed to put it into one of the boards labeled
'DEV NUL' as he fell past it.
`Well!' thought Blackhawk to himself,`after such a fall as this, I shall
think nothing of the trolls in alt.alien.vampires.flonk.flonk.flonk! How
brave they'll all think me at home! Why, I wouldn't say anything about
it, even if I fell for a troll by Herbert W**T!' (Which was very likely
true.)
Down, down, down. Would the fall never come to an end!
acs.* `I
acsworld.* wonder
adass.* how
ads.* many
adsp.* newsgroups
af.*
afj.* I've
africa.* fallen
ahn.* through
ailab.* by
air.* this
airmail.* time?'
* * he
* *
alt.* said aloud.
`I must be getting somewhere near the centre of the 'alt' hierarchy. Let
me see: that would be forty-thousand bytes down, I think--' (for, you
see, Blackhawk had learnt several things of this sort in his lessons at
the B-5.romper.room, and though this was not a very good opportunity for
showing off his knowledge, as there was no one to listen to him, still
it was good practice to say it over) `--yes, that's about the right
distance--but then I wonder what the philtrum on fucking epitomes of
whimsy I'm up to?' (Blackhawk had no idea what a philtrum was, or a
fucking epitome of whimsy either, but thought they were nice grand words
to say.)
Presently he began again. `I wonder if I shall fall right through into
the WorldWideWeb! How funny it'll seem to come out among the people that
walk with their heads downward! The WebTv'ers, I think--' (he was rather
glad there was no one listening, this time, as it didn't sound at all
the right word) `--but I shall have to ask them what the name of the ISP
is, you know. Please, Ma'am, is this WebTv or AOL?' (and he tried to bow
as he spoke--fancy bowing as you're falling through the air! Do you
think you could manage it?) `And what an ignorant little fellow they'll
think me for asking! No, it'll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see a
<title/>You are here</title> up somewhere.'
Down, down, down. There was nothing else to do, so Blackhawk soon began
talking again. `Heck'll miss me very much to-night, I should think!'
(Heck was the meme.) `I hope they'll remember his saucer of milk at
tea-time. Heck my dear! I wish you were down here with me! There is no
veracity in the air, I'm afraid, but you might catch a peep, and that's
very like a psychiatrist (being psychic and all), you know. But do memes
eat peeps, I wonder?' And here Blackhawk began to get rather sleepy, and
went on saying to himself, in a dreamy sort of way, `Do memes eat peeps?
Do memes eat peeps?' and sometimes, `Do peeps eat memes?' for, you see,
as he couldn't answer either question, it didn't much matter which way
he put it. He felt that he was dozing off, and had just begun to dream
that he was walking hand in hand with Heck, and saying to him very
earnestly, `Now, Heck, tell me the truth: did you ever eat a peep?' when
suddenly, thump! thump! down he came upon a heap of statistics and dry
posts, and the fall was over.
Blackhawk was not a bit hurt, and he jumped up on to his feet in a
moment: he looked up, but it was all dark overhead; before him was
another long passage, and the Large Peep was still in sight, hurrying
down it. There was not a moment to be lost: away went Blackhawk like the
wind, and was just in time to hear it say, as it turned a corner, `Oh my
wax eyes and marshmallow, I'm sooo bloody early!' He was close behind it
when he turned the corner, but the Peep was no longer to be seen: he
found himself in a long, low hierarchy, which was lit up by a row of
post-mortems hanging from the roof.
There were doors all round the hierarchy, but they were all locked; and
when Blackhawk had been all the way down one side and up the other,
trying every door, he walked sadly down the middle, wondering how he was
ever to post to JMS again.
Suddenly he came upon a little three-legged table, all made of Lots42's
diary entries; there was nothing on it except a tiny golden Kibo, and
Blackhawk's first thought was that it might belong to one of the doors
of the hall; but, alas! either the locks were too large, or the Kibo was
too small, but at any rate it would not open any of them. However, on
the second time round, he came upon a low curtain he had not noticed
before, and behind it was a little door about fifteen inches high: he
tried the little golden Kibo in the lock, and to his great delight it
fitted!
[Image] Blackhawk finding tiny door behind curtain
. . . . . . . . . . .
/ \/\/\________\/\/\/\
/ / /.| |" . \ \
/ . . |Kibology| . . \
/ . |Wannbees| . \
/ / / |Abandon | \ \ \
.' / / / |Hope O| '.'. '.
_.-' / / |Ye Who .| ' '-. '-._
_.-' / | | |Enter | '-. '-. '-.
(____(______\_\ |________| )___)____) BH
Blackhawk opened the door and found that it led into a small passage,
not much larger than an Odeus follow-up. He knelt down and looked along
the passage into the loveliest newsgroup you ever saw. How he longed to
get out of that dark hall, and wander about among those beds of bright
wackylaces and those cool parodies, but he could not even get his head
though the doorway; `and even if my head would go through,' thought poor
Blackhawk, `it would be of very little use without my brane. Oh, how I
wish I could shut up like a killfile! I think I could, if I only know
how to get flamed.' For, you see, so many out-of-the-way things had
happened lately, that Blackhawk had begun to think that very few things
indeed were really impossible.
There seemed to be no use in waiting by the little door, so he went back
to the table, half hoping he might find another Kibo on it, or at any
rate a FAQ for shutting people up like killfiles: this time he found a
little bottle on it, (`which certainly was not here before,' said
Blackhawk,) and round the neck of the bottle was a paper label, with the
words `SUCK MW' beautifully printed on it in large letters.
[Image] Blackhawk taking the "SUCK MW" bottle
______
\____/_ ..
33 (. ||
3" > .-||-.
\__ o |____|
/ \\ |SUCK|
/\ \| | MW |
| \ '--._/|____|
| \______ ==._|
|____| `''_______________________
|___(| ( 6.21.2001 )
| __ | I'm writing this update
|/ \| through a haze of pain
and dizziness. The last
It was all very well to say `SUCK MW,' but the wise little Blackhawk was
not going to do that in a hurry. `No, I'll look first,' he said, `and
see whether it's marked "YHBT" or not'; for he had read several nice
little histories about newbies who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild
trolls and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember
the simple rules that news.groups had taught them: such as, that a
red-hot poster will burn you if you troll them too long; and that if you
cut your ego very deeply with a typo, it usually bleeds; and he had
never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked `YHBT,' it
is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.
However, this bottle was not marked `YHBT,' so Blackhawk ventured to
taste it, and finding it very nice, (it had, in fact, a sort of mixed
flavour of butter-tart, mustard, kiwi, roast Krab, coffee, and hot
buttered tofu,) he very soon finished it off.
_____________ _____________
`-._ ..::| `-._ ..::| .
`. ..::| `. ..::| /|
| ..::| | ..::| /.|
| ..::| _____ | ..::| / :|
.--------.| ..::|.-' ..::-.--. .------| ..::| / .:|
| /\ .::. ..:.' ..::`. ' | ..::| / .::| /\
|/ \ .::\../ ..::\ | ..::| / ..::|/ \
.---' '---..::bd _ ..::b.._ | ..::|/ ..---' '---.
`-. .-' .::PI .:(_) ..::m ) | ..::`-. .-'
/ \ ..:/.q ..::w / .| .:' / \
/_.-``-._\..:' ..\ ..::/ / .:| ''---/_.-``-._\
' | ..:.` | ..:`. ..::,' / .::| ..:. `
| ..:| | ..::|`-.__..::-':| / .::' | ..:::|`. ..:\
| ..:J ,' ..:::. ,' ..::/ ..:' ,' ..::::. ) .::b
| ..:/ /____..::::\ /____...:/ .:' /____..:::::/ ..::P
|.:,' /.:' / ..:::'
|,' /.' / ..:-'
' ' /,-'
' BW
`What a curious feeling!' said Blackhawk; `I must be shutting up like a
killfile.'
And so it was indeed: he was now only ten inches high, and his face
brightened up at the thought that he was now the right size for going
through the little door into that lovely newsgroup. First, however, he
waited for a few minutes to see if he was going to shrink any further:
he felt a little nervous about this; `for my ego might never recover and
could result, you know,' said Blackhawk to himself, `in my coming out
altogether, like Franklin. I wonder what I should be like then?' And he
tried to fancy what the flame of a poster is like after the poster has
come out, for he could not remember ever having seen such a thing.
After a while, finding that nothing more happened, he decided on going
into the newsgroup at once; but, alas for poor Blackhawk! When he got to
the door, he found he had forgotten the little golden Kibo, and when he
went back to the table for it, he found he could not possibly reach it:
he could see it quite plainly through Lots42's blather, and he tried his
best to climb up one of the legs of the diary, but it was too slippery;
and when he had tired himself out with trying, the poor little thing sat
down and cried.
`Come, there's no use in crying like that!' said Blackhawk to himself,
rather sharply; `I advise you to leave off this minute!' He generally
gave himself very good advice, (though he very seldom followed it with
medication), and sometimes he scolded himself so severely as to bring
tears into his eyes; and once he remembered trying to box his own ears
for having cheated himself in a game of "troll the Stinson" he was
playing against himself, for this curious child was very fond of
pretending to be two or more people. `But it's no use now,' thought poor
Blackhawk, `to pretend to be two people! Why, there's hardly enough of
me left to make one respectable post!'
Soon his eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the diarys:
he opened it, and found in it a very small Krabcake, on which the words
`BITE MW' were beautifully marked in marshmallows. `Well, I'll bite it,'
said Blackhawk, `and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the Kibo;
and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the Mode^r^a^door; so
either way I'll get into the newsgroup, and I don't care which happens!'
He ate a little bit, and said anxiously to himself, `doidy, doidy!',
holding his hand on the top of his head to feel which way it was
growing, and he was quite surprised to find that he remained the same
size: to be sure, this generally happens when one eats Krabcake, but
Blackhawk had got so much into the way of expecting nothing but
out-of-the-way things to happen, that it seemed quite dull and stupid
for life to go on in the common way.
So he set to work, and very soon finished off the Krabcake.
* * * * * * *
* * * * * *
* * * * * * *
Next chapter: The Pool of Trolls
***
Blackhawk
Author's Notes for this chapter
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