Lurkers Anonymuse

[Snypiuer]

A little room.

Weak florecent lighting.

Folding chairs scattered about, filled with dejected, forelorn individuals.

A speaker at front of room.

 

"Hi, I'd like to thank you all for coming and believe that, together, we can begin to heal. If some one is willing to start, will you please come foreward and begin?"

 

Everyone kind of looks around uneasily.

 

"How about you?"

 

The individual spoken to, hesitates, looks around, shrugs and decides O.K.

 

He stands and walks to the front of the room. His hair and beard are a tangled mess, as if he's been in bed for months then just got up and came straight here, without even thinking of combing it. His attire bolsters the image. On his left foot is a faded, worn, pink bunny slipper that lets out a weak, wheezy squeak with every step, while on his right is a monster foot slipper - just as old and worn - that lets out a roar with every step. He wears faded, wrinkled pajama pants and a torn, wrinkled t-shirt. On the back is a cartoon picture of a bearded man, in a robe, wearing sun glasses and DJ headphones, holding his arms straight out at his sides. Above the picture is written, 'DJ Jesus (pronounced: HEY-sus) World Record Holder for length of time holding arms out at sides at a 90 degree angle or higher'. Below him is written, 'HoldingMyArmsOut.com' On the front is a cartoon picture of a girl with glasses and two little horns on her forehead. Above it is written, 'I Love Lucy:' below it reads, 'Daughter of the Devil'.

 

The man coughs, clears his throat and quietly speaks.

 

"Umm, I'm Snypiuer" (A scattering of "Hi, Snypiuer" comes from those seated), "Yeah, Hi. Umm, I really don't know why I'm here. You know, sure, I lurk, but who dosen't? It's not like I HAVE to. I post. . . So I don't post EVERY day. But does that make me a 'LURKER'? I mean. . ." Snypiuer starts to scan the room nervously, with a lost look, he turns to the first speaker, "Umm, I don't know if I can do this. . ."

 

"That's O.K. Snypiuer, it can be hard the first time. What you need to do though, is to face yourself. Admit to YOURSELF that you're a lurker. It will make it easier to admit it to others. Then the healing can begin."

 

Snypiuer attempts a cocky smile and attitude, but both come off as nervous, "Ha. I'm NOT a lur. . ." He looks around at the faces in the room, kind of steps back, as if he's cornered. He looks at the door and for a brief instant looks like he's going to make a run for it. "I. . ." looking back at the first speaker, Snypiuer lowers his head, turns back to the room and softly says, "My name is Snypiuer. . . and. . . I'm a lurker."

[Quincunx]

Someone flips the light switch. Two fluorescent tubes turn nacreous purple, with darker bands shivering to and fro within their lengths. The others turn off the rest of the way, more or less. The same someone fumbles with a 35mm film reel and a projector from a school district fire sale (1974. Tragic story. Talk of the town for months.), pinches a finger, threads film, turns on light, gets a face full of equally sickly incandescent light, moves out from in front of the projector.

 

Four

 

Three

 

Two

 

Gear & Crossed Wrenches Symbol

 

Title frame reads, in humorless subtitling font, "Whereabouts of a Gnome" until later frames show their defacement with a sharpie marker and an additional 'i'. The tape flickers and rattles as the additional ink forces some slack into the film reel.

 

Another title frame follows: Sighting One.

 

Minta gallops down a hill while riding a clockwork pig, the sounds of sliding sand barely audible over the flickering rattle of the film itself. Over the crest slither half a dozen tall anthropomorphic snakes, scattering as they catch sight of the gnome, but all still pursuing. She grabs hold of the emergency brake and wrenches it upwards; the roboboar locks its legs and slews counter-clockwise, Minta shrills with glee, and the pair perform a full turn within the pig's length before toppling over. Minta lies still while the roboboar engages automatic folding sequence and condenses into a frisbee-sized disk with the handlebars projecting. The nearest snake glides to the crash site, arches its head to the ground, flicks its tongue at the disk, nudges the gnome with its nose, turns away.

 

Another title frame follows: Sighting Two.

 

Minta sitting on the rug in Starlight and Rydia's underground home, hugging her knees, giggling up a storm and chanting, "I saw it I saw it I saw it I saw it!"

 

Another title frame follows: Sighting Three.

 

Minta clings to the top of an army's standard--halved vertically, black and white, overlaid with the circle of the Chinese zodiac--while the army of many races (but no gnomes) waits underneath; some point sharpened metal stakes at the gnome, some climb up on the backs of taller races wielding flaming torches, some prod with long bamboo poles while others position themselves beneath with oversized slices of bread and waterskins full of sandwich condiments.

 

Another title frame follows: Sighting Four--

 

The projectionist is flagellated with the broken film of the beginning of Sighting Four. That sickly incandescent light illuminates a square but doesn't do anything to lighten the room.

[Ciri]

A hooded figure, doubled over under the weight of a huge backpack hides in the doorway of the room. Only when the lights go off does she hesitantly step inside, making sure to pick just the right moment when everyone is focused on the movie. I STILL don't see why I have to do this, she thought to herself. I don't have a problem! I've just been busy, that's all.

 

Yeah yeah, suuuuure. And the Big W is giving all his geld to the Home for Inter-dimensional Orphans, taking a vow of celibacy, and is gonna be voted the next Bachelor of the Month, came the acidic mental echo. Face it, we both know you're a procrastinator, a lurker, and a responsibility shirker. Rici paused, then began slyly, Huh, well whaddaya know, I'm a poet and I -

 

Enough! Enough! Fine, I'll stay. But I don't want to speak.

 

Ciri, you heard the man! The first step is just admitting -Well you're a real tough cookie with a long history/of breaking little hearts like the one in me...Damnit! Don't drown me out with songs that...That's okay let's see how you do it... get stuck in your...put up your dukes let's get down to it...AUUURGH!

 

Ciri mentally set the song on loop, effectively drowning out her subconscious imaginary personality, before setting down her backpack and sitting in a seat tucked into a corner just as the lights switched back on. She surreptitiously glanced about, first at the guilty-looking, forlorn individuals, then at the speaker, and privately prayed no one would call on her so she wouldn't have to admit - no, not admit. She didn't have a problem lurking. She was just here because Rici made her come. She didn't have a problem. Really. She didn't. It wasn't lurking!

 

She slumped a little lower in her seat...

[Peredhil]

Peredhil Politely waits his turn, then steps forward.

 

"Hullo hullo all, I'm Peredhil, for those who don't know." He waves to the various people around the Pen and nearly steps down to hug them all but remembers his purpose in time.

"Hello Big P'" "Hiya Peredhil" "Yo Boss" come the chorus of replies

 

"I'm definitely a lurker. I learned how to idle in the Legion of the White Rose and Angels of Apocolypse BBQ Chat Rooms on IRC, but thought, 'it's just a passing amusement, I can stop any time'. Little did I know how infectious inertia and apathy can me. I do try to read all that is posted here, but I find myself empty, bereft of words in which to reply. Even so much as a 'good job' or 'I read this' seems banal and empty, and I find myself going away slumped in defeat."

the Ancient sighs, and clears his throat.

"As for original posting, I find my Ring Wraith has been slain, and Real Life has consumed me with chaotic ardor. I endure. I hope to be back. I AP-E those of you I know well."

 

With that, he steps down from the stage and fades into the audience

[troubled sleep]

Samarria needn't have asked where the meeting was being held. The diminutive telepath could literally feel the emotions flowing out of the room--embarrassment, sadness, resoluteness, hope? She pauses just shy of the doorway, considering her options. She didn't have to go in there, and frankly she didn't want to. She was fine. She wasn't a lurker…well, not a serious one in any case…it was just that she'd been lurking so long she wasn't sure if she could do anything else.

 

She looks rather silly standing there, brooding in the hallway, face pale, clothes slightly wrinkled, long dark hair a singular mess--and a little plate of cookies in one hand, a jug with milk and plus a few paper cups in the another. She had only brought them because, initially, she thought that there had to be free food of some kind. I mean, come on, how do you get a large group of people--especially lurkers!!--to come out to a meeting without free food. But then, she had thought earlier that morning, what if there wasn't any food? And she was skipping out on dinner just to be hungry and miserable in a room full of other hungry, miserable lurkers? Hmm. The only solution seemed to be to come with food. So she had worked very hard all afternoon and into the evening trying to replicate these divinely wonderful chocolate cookies she'd once had as a child in Halen. When, finally, covered in flour and dough, she had sampled the fruits of her labors, she found them to be quite good. Ok, so they were a little hard. And some of them were slightly burnt on the bottom. But dipped in milk they were more than passable! And she'd added more than enough chocolate chips to the batter by way of compensation for any other faults. Anyways, they were lurkers, how picky could they possibly be?

 

Still in the hallway, she takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes, counts to three, then double checks the mental blocks keeping everyone else's stray thoughts at bay, filling in mental holes with imaginary brick and mortar. It is a slightly bizarre little ritual, but a necessary one. It was embarrassing enough just to pick up on strong emotions, to catch other peoples' thoughts, now that was just mortifying.

 

Hoping to avoid notice, she slips in during the movie. However, once the lights were back on, it is just a few short testimonials before there's a lag in the meeting and she feels, instinctively, that it's her turn.

 

Standing up, she turns away for a moment, depositing her cookies and milk on a chair behind her. As she walks to the front, Sam fingers a pair of sunglasses sitting in her jacket pocket, then let them go. It's unlikely anyone would think anything bizarre about violet eyes, even ones as bright as her own. They got all kinds here at the Pen. Maybe that's why she liked it here so much.

 

"Uh, hi," she says, offering a small wave to everyone, and making a sincere effort to not sound like an angry, prickly loser, "my name is Samarria and...I guess, no, I know that I'm probably one of the worst lurkers out there. So...hi. Would you like a cookie?"

Edited May 1, 2008 by troubled sleep

[Venefyxatu]

A figure moves through the shadows in the conveniently dark room, wondering whether the darkness of the room is one of the reasons there are so many lurkers gathered here. As it stepped out onto the stage, its black velvety robes became visible. It reached up with its pale, thin hands and pulled back the hood, revealing the face of Venefyxatu. With a smile playing over his lips he looked at Samarria and said, "Why yes, thank you."

 

He took a bite, swallowed it, thoughtfully dipped the cookie in the milk and then calmly ate the rest of it. Since nobody spoke during all of this, he decided he might as well introduce himself, too.

 

"My name is Venefyxatu. I'm one of the local necromancers, and, yes, I lurk. A lot. I've become quite good at it, too. In fact, I'm quite proud of it and fail to see the problem."

 

Chuckling softly to himself at some of the amazed looks that got him, he quietly returned to his seat, but not before adding, "These cookies are quite good with milk!"

[Appy]

"Cookie! Cookie! Cookie! Cookie!"

 

A small girl with an impossible mess of long blond hair bounces in on her pink skippyball while reciting one of her favorite chants.

 

"Cookie! Cookie! Cookie!" The girl slides her skippyball to a halt in front of the plate and comes close to headbanging the cookies on top.

 

"Cookie?!" she asks, while grabbing two.

 

 

"Appy! You already HAD a whole plate this morning! And I was saving them for after dinner too.." The druid-hunter-like figure strides through the lurkers and pinches her nose with a sigh at the sight of Appy gobbling the two cookies without any notion of having heard her.

 

Only after looking at the ceiling in despair does the woman take notice the rest of the people in the room, the banner behind the little podium and the tense and embarrassed feeling of the room.

 

"Oh"

 

The little girl, mouth covered in cookie crumbles, bounces over to Apaltra. "Look! All our friends are here! There's Mr. P. Hiya! An' that necromancer you used to fancy.. or was that someone else, I forget. You don't fancy just anybody though, so a necromancer could've been it, right? Oh! An' that other girl, with the cookies! Thank you for those! I wonder what they're all doing here?"

 

The hunter sighed again and pointed out the banner while avoiding any eye contact in the room. The girl babbled too much, that was the problem.

 

"Ooooooooooooh" Appy bounced forward a bit and turned towards Apaltra, pointing at the banner, "That's us too, right? I mean, I do stuff, I'm sure of it, but all you do is read an' read an' sigh an' train an' read some more. Right?"

Beaming, Appy bounced towards Apaltra again.

 

"Yes little one, we are among same-minded people here. But I wonder about needing to be here. I see no problem with what I do. And neither should you! What I do is my business, remember?" Apaltra gave Appy a threatening look which the girl waved away.

 

"Yeah yeah, you be like that. But I'm going to introduce myself. This looks like it could be fun!"

Appy bounces onto the stage and beams at her audience, making some of them very nervous with her happy stare.

 

"Hiya! I'm Appy and I lurk! Lurking is fun, you get to see stuff you would otherwise not see an' this one time I even saw something that I'm not allowed to repeat but I tell ya, that sure was some interesting thing you can do with a ... " at this point Apaltra pulls a finger across her throat and Appy mumbles into silence for a moment.

 

"In any case, the cookies are good and I'm here to talk about the fun of lurking!" Beaming, Appy bounces back towards the cookies as Apaltra exits stage right.

 

(no idea how she did that last bit, must be obligatory humour or something)

 

Edited May 7, 2008 by Appy

[DeanTheAdequate]

A man steps in, dressed in smoking jacket with a neon martini glass emblazoned on the left breast pocket. His hair seems set in place from times past, and at his heels is a jet black cat with green eyes. He runs over to the coffee urn and takes one, two, three cups in a row, slaps his face a few times, then fumbles around for a flask and empties it.

 

"You sure you're ready for this? It's been a long time..." says the cat.

 

The man looks up to the flickering lights for a minute and breathes out a slow whistle.

 

"Yes. We need to let them know how good it is..."

 

With a wave of his hands his shoes begin to sparkle and glow, and he executes a back flip with panache onto the nearest seat. He stands tall and uses his hands to punctuate his words.

 

"I'm Dean The Adequate. Drunken mage by profession, and sometimes werewolf spotter in my spare time. I have been absent a while. A looooooong while. And I'm comfortable with that. You know how it is; go off, get married, save the world a few times in covert operations.

 

And yet they're willing to take me back, the foo... er... gracious hosts. And I intend to be back too. I hear there's a lot more fun to be had, and I'm still allowed to play.

 

So let's get to it!"

 

Dean then sits back down, a big grin on his face as he whips up a large tiki drink with a quick flash of a magic wand.

 

"Anyone else want one?"

[Hjolnai]

The door opens, and a tall staff-bearing man enters nervously. "er... Is this the room for the meeting of nameless mad wanderers who keep getting lost?"

Someone speaks out from the shadows of the room. "No, this is the meeting for Lurkers Anonymous. To get where you want to go, go right from this door, take the second left corridor, and the first green door on the right."

"Right, so that's... go straight ahead from this door, up the purple stairs to the right, then into the glowing portal?"

"Yes, that's right."

 

 

A few minutes later, the same man enters again. This time, he says, "Oh, I just realized. I probably belong in here too. I have a tendency to lurk in between wandering off and getting lost." He conjures a chair, and sits on it. He then falls straight through the chair, stands up again, and says, "Bah, I must remember that that spell is in the Illusion school, not conjuration." He takes a different seat (completely forgetting to banish the illusionary chair), and sighs, because the chair he has chosen now is far too short; his knees rise comically from the low seat. Only now he's sitting down is it obvious to observers exactly how ridiculously tall and thin he is.

[Researcher]

Hassium stops at the door, looking rather confused and lost. He hears someone talking about Lurkers, and decides to take a chair to observe. After all, Lurking was something that had always helped Science... or so he thought. He was rather used to lurking, or to sending his Assistants to lurk, to see what could be learned through silent observation. It could be a real test for any would-be researcher, and he also like to set it as a test for any fellow who wanted to come and work with him. Go lurk in this-and-that-room, and come back with notes on what you could observe: then write anything that you could conclude from those, and/or plan for further studies!

 

With a small nod, Hassium finds an empty chair and sits down...

 

... and promptly finds himself looking at the ceiling, prone on the floor and completely lost as to why he is not sitting at the chair that he can still see sticking out from his belly...