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[Ken]

The project, the contest... your challenge--

"10-10-10"

Natural patterns have aroused the human psyche since time immemorial, perhaps none less than numerical patterns.  Individuals and even whole societies attribute significance to numbers even where the rational mind tells us there is none.  The congruence of certain numbers is seen as auspicious, suspicious, and even outright dangerous to members of various civilizations.  It is this superstition of maths that made 08-08-08 the ideal date to start the Beijing Olympics and that makes 666 a feared numeral in Christian mythology.

And that is the theme for our first flash fiction challenge: superstitions.

Write a 400 word or less entry about a New Eden superstition.  It can be a superstition only your character believes in or one that affects a whole planet or even the entire cluster, but it must be original--something we haven't heard of before in PF.  Prose, poetry, story, or infodump, the format doesn't matter for this one.

23 hours and counting...

[Valdezi]

Mammal Tafren, Intaki Liberation Front

Yasur

In the southern hemisphere of Intaki Prime, the looming volcano, Yasur, casts its sweaty glare over an open salty bay. This was one of the places the Gallente first landed.

The people who lived here were simple, then. Their brown toes crumbled the settled ash into a fine grey powder, dusting their feet pale. When the Gallente came, they showed off cargo from their ships, glittering things, things of which the people who live below Yasur had never dreamed.

In the shadows of overhanging palms, they spoke with the newcomers, who told them wondrous things – that beyond the white sands that were the only borders they had known was more than they could imagine; that each of the bright spots in the fundament was a star, just like their bright hot one, and that each of those stars had worlds.

They stood and watched the ships take off, then grow distant, then disappear altogether, leaving behind a dream of mysterious and esoteric cargo. And that night, Yasur flared, glowing red tendrils streaking out into the cosmos.

Despite their belief in the Ida, Yasur loomed large in the people’s consciousness, a great and terrible thing, able at a whim to destroy, but the source of fertility for all the soil in the region. They spoke to the grim mountain, and believed it spoke to them.

Great globs of molten stone drizzled the ground around, and soft flows trickled from the lip of the rock. Yasur cried that night, cried that it was losing its children.

Then, it was morning, and a fresh blanket of ash had drifted along the cane huts the people had cowered in overnight. The people went out and spoke to Yasur, to reassure the mountain that they would not leave it, but it was silent.

Even now, people travel to Yasur from all over the Federation, Intaki descended from that humble tribe, begging the mountain to speak again.

But Yasur slumbers on.

[Saede Riordan]

Character: Nikita Alterana
Corp: Risen Angels

Cold Flesh

"You're bullshitting us man, you say that every time." Salliari gave him a shove, knocking him off the barrel. The entire group laughed as he indignantly picked himself up and brushed the grime off his coat.

“Don't believe me?”

“It can't be true, there's no way an entire ship could just be found empty, you're making it up,” Selena said with the innocent attitude of one new to space.

“There is one way, if you'd stop interrupting me,” Allaren said darkly, making the rest of them unconsciously move closer the the fire, “Cold Flesh.”

“You gonna tell the story or just taunt us with it?” Kyliet said, blowing into his hands to keep warm.
“Sure...this was....oh, back during my second tour of duty with the Navy, like I said before, we came across a ship that was totally empty, crew was gone, seemed like they'd just stopped in the middle of what they were doing and vanished. Only thing we found out of the ordinary, was a message written on the bridge bulkhead; it read Cold Flesh. We never did find them, but a few of our crew killed themselves over it, said they'd face their ancestors 'fore they faced Cold Flesh, that's when I learned the legend.” He paused to light a cigarette.

“What is the Legend?” Selena said with a shiver, nudging closer to Salliari.

“No one knows exactly what it is, but the story says, sometimes the dead are lost for no reason, like, their bodies just get up and walk away. Vanishing into the black....cepting they don't just vanish; sometimes they come back.”

“No way...” Dioral said dismissively.

“Airlocks open and close without anyone activating them, pressure sensors tipped without anything there, no its real. Its Cold Flesh.

“He comes while the ships are in deep space, with an army of the dead, pale, an rottin, and emaciated, and if you look at them; then they have you, there's no escape, they drag you off the ship and straight into hell itself. They say that seeing what happens when Cold Flesh takes a ship, makes you the next victim.”
Selena looked off into the darkness, clinging to Salliari for support, “But its just a story, right?”
There was a bang of machinery somewhere in the dark, making them jump.
 “...You tell me.”

[lallara zhuul]

Char: Lallara Zhuul
Corporation: Path of Thorns
--------------------------
There is an interesting kind of delusion among the Amarrian capsuleers who have been found to truly believe in the Amarrian Faith.

It usually exhibits itself as clinical depression, leading to self-destructive behaviour and tendency to turn against the Faith that they were brought up in.

In rare cases it exhibits itself in a benign way where a capsuleer can overcome their fear of death completely while going into combat protecting whatever they find important to them.

The delusion is basically this.

They believe that they are dead.

The delusion usually exhibits after the first emergency activation of a clone after a breach in the pod of the capsuleer.

The patients usually feel that the first termination of the life cycle of the original body breaks the link between their ancestors and family.
Also some of them feel as a side effect that their spirit has died, severing the link between the soul and the body, therefore severing the link between their actions and their religious duty of penance.

We have found that there is no way of stopping this mechanism where the worldview of a capsuleer is completely broken down, on the other hand we have found a way of increasing the chances of the patients to head down the path towards the more benign symptoms of this delusion.
(see Appendix IV.)

- Jocelyn Vadeux, Professor of Psychological Studies in the University of Caille in a study for the Amarrian Navy

[Kybernetes Moros]

Character: Kybernetes Moros
Corporation: True Slave Foundations
------

Come again? My hearing isn't great; you know this.

Capsuleers? Dreadful people, all. What about them?

...what do you mean 'why are they dreadful'? In God's name, boy!

Listen. I remember when the damned Jovians gave the State capsule technology -- and nary a decade after they'd the nerve to deny us -- and well before that. You'll go home and get straight on the computer, talking with some person halfway across the cluster, probably some thrice-damned Sebiestor cyberharlot (or Starkmanir, we all know how those girls are, and did you know that I was around for when Hamri kicked up that fuss on Starkman Prime with his blasphemies?) in Rens -- don't look at me like that, don't think we all don't know the unholy nonsense you young folks get up to, thinking you're being all clever with your fluidic routers and ignoring the risks of the cyberland syphilis that you can get from these pornosims, which they try to say you can't but you obviously can, and...

Eggers! Yes, them. Madder than Zaragram, the lot. Killing thousands for the money of thousands of us mere mortals, power second only to God himself. Some think they are gods... and they're not entirely wrong. The Imud Hubrau, I told you about them, but that's not just it. A frigate, costing nothing to them, flown into a town. Just imagine, moving at thousands of metres a second, a hunk of superheated metal and antimatter reactors, and the person doing this just can't die, sees everyone as The Lesser Ones Down Below. There was a myth, you know. They said that capsuleers were God's wrath given form, flesh, and will. His Chosen of Chosen, rising above the failed creations and taking their place at His side. If you sin, if you deny Him, if you stray from the path, they'll find you. A redemption in fire -- since that's all they bring. Fire, death, destruction. That's not God's work.

'Go forth, conquer in my name, reclaim that which I have given'. That's His will. When we have the faith to do so, when we are worthy, that's what'll happen. We will be the Hand of God, when the time comes, not these... imperfect idols, playing at godhood.

...'you just said you wanted to do what you said was the exact wrong thing'? You imply that I'm jealous of these people?

Leave.

[Bong-cha Jones]

(This is a fake submission.  I wrote the piece for fun, it meets the requirements, please don't consider it.  My employment history doesn't meet the req's.)


Simon rocked back gently on his knees, leaning his arm against one of the old, polymer-sealed walls of his parents’ home.  He looked so eager, so happy with himself, that I almost didn’t notice the bag packed next to him.  “Hey, little didi.  Take a seat, eh?”  He leaned in closer to me as I curled my legs on the ground, putting one finger over his lips and winking conspiratorially .  “Listen, di, I’m getting out of here.  There’s so much more to the world than this little river valley.  Don’t think I’m abandoning you!  I’ll be back, and you and me, we’ll be sibs forever, I promise.  You remember what the old men say, right?”

I nodded, remembering that they said a lot of things, unsure which one he meant.  The lamps flickered, making the dim light dance around us.  “Well,” he continued, “they say that a man has a shadow, that it casts all the way back to the first breath he ever took.  They say a man’s shadow is his past and that it contains his future too.  They say, if you can get a piece of a man’s shadow, you can keep track of him, that he can feel you through it.”  He reached back, plunging his left hand into the darkness pooled behind him.  He made a fist, then winced and pulled, coming away with a handful of black sand.

“This is my shadow, little sister.  Keep it close to you and I’ll be there when you need me.  I’ll know and you’ll know, and that’ll be enough.  Keep it secret too.  Magic doesn’t work if everybody knows about it.”  And then he hugged me, ruffled my hair and walked out the door.  That was four years ago.

He said a man’s shadow was infinite, that it never went away, that he’d always know when I needed him.  So why doesn’t it work anymore?

-Veri Coal, age 14

[Z.Sinraali]

"On the other hand, you have the sects of the Servant Sisters of Eve. As faiths go, they sit pretty far out on the practical-rational end of the scale. There's fairly little in the way of arcane, awe-inspiring rituals; the entire religion is premised on spreading knowledge far and wide, not having it parceled out by a few high priests."

"That's not to say they don't have any rituals. Since I just told you they're all about knowledge, try this one on for size: When a member of the faith dies, the person in charge of the funerary arrangements invites those who knew them to write what they learned from the deceased. They have specially made parchment for it. It even has flexible data storage woven into it if the mourner feels compelled to expound beyond a single page. Or if they want to include holo or something. Anyways. So then they bind the sheets and read it at the funeral. They call it their 'Book of Truths'. Go ahead."

"What sort of things do they write down?"

"Well obviously for most people it's pretty banal. Love your family, read lots of books, things like that. But you know Doctor Pritas over in Astrophysics? Found an equation describing the coordinates of an actual stable system of rogue planets in his great-great-grandfather's book. Did a study of it, that's what he got his Lapeur prize for. Go ask him about it if you've got a few hours to kill."

"Professor?"

"Yeah?"

"What if their family can't write?"

"The priest helps them."

"Professor?"

"What?"

"What happens to the book afterwards?"

"Usually the family keeps it. If they didn't have any, or the family decides to, it's indexed and put in a library. Anyways. If you don't make a book, the Sisters say that the soul will have to leave God's presence to come back to the material world and spread its knowledge all over again. Legend has it that one particularly revered priestess' Book of Truths took 3 whole days to read."

"I guess practicality only goes so far when you're talking about religion."

<<laughter>>

[Arvo Katsuya]

Character: Arvo Katsuya
Corp: True Slave Foundations
-------
Dogtags

The Reapers. Collectors of Souls. Bloodletters of the Stars. Death Incarnate. These titles all names that vividly express the capsuleer among many. It should be of no surprise, for the actions most take a part in, when they take to those skies. This is especially true to the pirate organizations, who face these entities the most. There is a universally accepted superstition clusterwide, that should a capsuleer ever come in possession of their dogtag, their very soul would be taken from them.

To the Caldari or Matari, they would no longer meet their ancestors. To an Intaki, this would mean they would risk no longer being able to be reborn into a new life. To an Amarr, no afterlife. Whether it be spiritual or practical, every group has a belief around their dogtags.

It is for this very reason many pirates when the destruction of their ship is imminent, they ensure the destruction their dogtags. So they can move on.

It is unknown where this belief originally started. Rumors state it originally was from an overly zealous Blood Raider, or from a deeply eccentric Cartel pilot. However, the practice has taken root amongst all the major player pirate organizations, and even the more practical minded pirates participate in this under the reasoning of lessening the value they recieve from their heads.

[Saikoyu]

“I’m not going.”

“We agreed, we have to try tonight.  The guards are lax, the holder is away, it is the right time now.”

“We can’t go tonight.”

“Why not for the goddess’s sake?”

“The slaver hounds howled twice.”

“They howl all the time, its what they do.”

“But they only howl once every time.  Tonight they howled twice.  It’s a bad sign.”

“It’s that Vherokior girl who told you that isn’t it?”

“She knows a lot…”

“She doesn’t know anything.  She’s just spooking you since she can’t make it and she wants you to stay.”

“No, she really knows.  She made me swear that I would try and stop you.  She said that it is a bad sign that the slaver hounds howled twice.”

“Even if she does know something, she wouldn’t know anything about here.  This entire place is foreign to use, and the sooner we leave, the better off we are.  I’m sorry about her, but if she can’t make it, she stays.  What about you?”

“I’m staying.  With her.”

“Then I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”


Submitted for the Electus Matari alliance, not my current corporation.

[Z.Sinraali]

stuff

So...I've got a pile of souls sitting in mah hangar? Creepy.

[Graelyn]

Damn! Lallara snagged my topic first. 

[Ghost Hunter]

Char: Ghost Hunter
Nomination: True Slave Foundations

(not sure if this is late or not LOL )
_______


He hated working the meat docks.

Day in and day out, whenever rotation came to him he'd switch out with his best mate or someone who'd take his bribe. Management knew, he was certain, they didn't seem to care either way.

"Give us a valid and substantial reason to relieve you from that part of the rotation."

They never believed what he said. Corpses were corpses and nothing but money waiting to be made, they answered him once, and he could agree with that. It was the ones that didn't stay dead he feared.

He always knew one when they had found one. A tingle went up his spine every damn time they found one. He'd turn around and see them, sitting amongst the piles of naked flesh and bodies with their immaculate radiance. They were always perfect, even after being spaced. They held a strength that defied the void itself.

They always had ocular implants in their eyes. He knew when he stared at them, they too stared back him. The cryptic gaze of the dead gods told him the same thing every time he looked. It was no faint whisper or fleeting mockery, but a resounding promise that made his heart pound in his chest.

"I will live again."

He'd tear his eyes away from the dead gods, but their gaze never left him. His stomach would churn and the bile would come spilling out as he heaved across the deck. Out there, as he would meet with the dead god, they had returned to the stars elsewhere.

The Capsuleers whose bodies he'd find would walk in places he could never dream of. He knew, every time he found one, that they too knew he had. He knew his debt would keep growing, until one day the star gods found him.

And they would punish him for touching their untouchable bodies. They would find him, and they would inflict a torment that is equal for the transgressions he's committed on them.

There was no where to hide, he realized, from beings who cheated death.

The lift descended down and a tingle went up his spine.

One of them was waiting for him.

[Ken]

This challenge is officially closed.

Pleasantly surprised to see so many entries.  Since the rules don't apply to Sansha these days, we'll call it in "incursion" and shoe-horn Ghost Hunter's submission in even though it is technically half an hour late.  Wormholes and such...wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey...  Great submissions from everyone, of course.

Graelyn, better luck next time.

Simon, perhaps you could ghost write for a friend whose corp does meet the reqs?  In any case, thank you for the "fake" submission.

Don't sweat it if you forgot to put your character or corp nomination in the subject line or the body of your post.  Just go back and edit them at your convenience to include that info. 

Hope to see all of you in the next challenge thread!

[Laurentis Thiesant]

This challenge is officially closed.

Pleasantly surprised to see so many entries.  Since the rules don't apply to Sansha these days, we'll call it in "incursion" and shoe-horn Ghost Hunter's submission in even though it is technically half an hour late.  Wormholes and such...wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey...  Great submissions from everyone, of course.

Graelyn, better luck next time.

Simon, perhaps you could ghost write for a friend whose corp does meet the reqs?  In any case, thank you for the "fake" submission.

Don't sweat it if you forgot to put your character or corp nomination in the subject line or the body of your post.  Just go back and edit them at your convenience to include that info. 

Hope to see all of you in the next challenge thread!

You sir, have made my life.
Get in my pants, now.

[Saxon Hawke]

You sir, have made my life.
Get in my pants, now.

I've been waiting my whole life for a woman to say those exact words to me. Ken's awesomeness knows no limits.

Also, good posts everyone. Hopefully, I won't be called up for Civil Air Patrol duty the next time a contest is posted and then I can take part too.