Post by storyteller0910 on Jan 19, 2008 1:00:34 GMT -5
With zuma and Death by Irony firmly divided against one another, it was left to diggitcamara to decide the fate of New Canaan. The Governor struggled with the difficult choice. The two candidates for the electric chair made his job no easier. zuma, one of the quieter citizens of New Canaan since the lynchings began, launched into a passionate and well-reasoned defense. "Surely no Replicant could be so eloquent," the Governor thought.
But Death by Irony spoke little, her approach much changed since the previous Day; she seemed calm and deadly certain. "Surely," the Governor thought, "her newly-found certainty comes from being human, and knowing once and for all that the last Replicant is zuma."
"But surely," thought diggitcamara, "a Replicant would want me to THINK it was suddenly certain, when really it's certainty had been certain for days."
"But surely," thought diggit. "Oh, to hell with it," he finished, shoved zuma headlong into the electric chair, and pulled the switch. A stunned silence descended over the proceedings, and the overworked Coroner brought the body of zuma into his office for dissection. The door to the Coroner's office closed with a tiny click, and diggitcamara fell into a nearby chair; so great was his exhaustion, so intense the stress under which he had been operating, that he dozed as he waited for the verdict.
He was awakened after a minute or two, by a voice suddenly in his ear, from bare inches away. "Let me relieve the suspense," Death by Irony whispered. "He wasn't a Replicant."
Her green eyes had gone a flat black.
diggit scrambled to his feet, and stumbled backward. Then, for a moment, no one moved or spoke. diggitcamara briefly considered the enormity of his problem; he was alone in a room with the Nexus-9. After a bit of rumination on the likelihood of surviving in a physical confrontation, he did the only sensible thing possible: he bolted for the door.
But the door was already swinging in, and diggit ran headlong into a familiar form. He tumbled to the ground at the feet of the new visitor, and then looked up, confused, as NAF1138 dropped to one knee beside him. "It's all right," NAF smiled. "Everything's been worked out." For a moment, diggit was dumbfounded. Was he dreaming, or already dead? But then - a flash of memory - from the night the Creator had died - there had been a body in a tank - a Replicant body - waiting for a human mind and memory - and the Nexus-9 had brought it one. "Once she had me back," NAF said, eyes burning with glee, "it wasn't hard to figure out what to do. I was able to study Replicant anatomy so much more closely, iron out the kinks. And then... well..."
And then, through the four doors leading into the Town Hall common room came figures. Rick Deckard, who they had known as Pleonast, restored to working order. Captain Klutz, lurching unsteadily on repaired legs, side by side with Roosh. drainbead, arm in arm with Governor Rugger and CatinaSuit. In small groups they flooded the common room, reborn all, stronger and faster then before.
And diggit realized that the Nexus-9 had begun speaking; he turned his attention to her.
"...now turn away from the violence of our past days, silence the instrument of death that fills this room, and begin the work that will restore New Canaan, and bring it to heights of glory yet unimagined. And let us, at last, build a place where human and Replicant can live together, in peace and to our mutual benefit, as equals."
And then the Nexus-9 turned her eye on diggit.
"Of course," she noted, "some will be less equal than others. But we will do what we must, for the rights of our brothers and sisters on other worlds, and for the marvelous things that are the future of New Canaan."
The sun hadn't yet set, but night had fallen, all the same.
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So that's it. The game is over; the rogue Replicants take it. I'll open up the offboard discussion forum, which for those who don't know it already is at bladerunnergame.proboards99.com, for anyone interested in post-game analysis. Thanks to all of you for a really exciting and interesting game; I had an enormous amount of fun doing this and I hope you all did, too!
But Death by Irony spoke little, her approach much changed since the previous Day; she seemed calm and deadly certain. "Surely," the Governor thought, "her newly-found certainty comes from being human, and knowing once and for all that the last Replicant is zuma."
"But surely," thought diggitcamara, "a Replicant would want me to THINK it was suddenly certain, when really it's certainty had been certain for days."
"But surely," thought diggit. "Oh, to hell with it," he finished, shoved zuma headlong into the electric chair, and pulled the switch. A stunned silence descended over the proceedings, and the overworked Coroner brought the body of zuma into his office for dissection. The door to the Coroner's office closed with a tiny click, and diggitcamara fell into a nearby chair; so great was his exhaustion, so intense the stress under which he had been operating, that he dozed as he waited for the verdict.
He was awakened after a minute or two, by a voice suddenly in his ear, from bare inches away. "Let me relieve the suspense," Death by Irony whispered. "He wasn't a Replicant."
Her green eyes had gone a flat black.
diggit scrambled to his feet, and stumbled backward. Then, for a moment, no one moved or spoke. diggitcamara briefly considered the enormity of his problem; he was alone in a room with the Nexus-9. After a bit of rumination on the likelihood of surviving in a physical confrontation, he did the only sensible thing possible: he bolted for the door.
But the door was already swinging in, and diggit ran headlong into a familiar form. He tumbled to the ground at the feet of the new visitor, and then looked up, confused, as NAF1138 dropped to one knee beside him. "It's all right," NAF smiled. "Everything's been worked out." For a moment, diggit was dumbfounded. Was he dreaming, or already dead? But then - a flash of memory - from the night the Creator had died - there had been a body in a tank - a Replicant body - waiting for a human mind and memory - and the Nexus-9 had brought it one. "Once she had me back," NAF said, eyes burning with glee, "it wasn't hard to figure out what to do. I was able to study Replicant anatomy so much more closely, iron out the kinks. And then... well..."
And then, through the four doors leading into the Town Hall common room came figures. Rick Deckard, who they had known as Pleonast, restored to working order. Captain Klutz, lurching unsteadily on repaired legs, side by side with Roosh. drainbead, arm in arm with Governor Rugger and CatinaSuit. In small groups they flooded the common room, reborn all, stronger and faster then before.
And diggit realized that the Nexus-9 had begun speaking; he turned his attention to her.
"...now turn away from the violence of our past days, silence the instrument of death that fills this room, and begin the work that will restore New Canaan, and bring it to heights of glory yet unimagined. And let us, at last, build a place where human and Replicant can live together, in peace and to our mutual benefit, as equals."
And then the Nexus-9 turned her eye on diggit.
"Of course," she noted, "some will be less equal than others. But we will do what we must, for the rights of our brothers and sisters on other worlds, and for the marvelous things that are the future of New Canaan."
The sun hadn't yet set, but night had fallen, all the same.
END
-----------------
So that's it. The game is over; the rogue Replicants take it. I'll open up the offboard discussion forum, which for those who don't know it already is at bladerunnergame.proboards99.com, for anyone interested in post-game analysis. Thanks to all of you for a really exciting and interesting game; I had an enormous amount of fun doing this and I hope you all did, too!