"ONLY 1% OF PEOPLE WILL GET THIS RIGHT WITHOUT GOOGLING!!"
Ferdie sighed. God, why had he ever made the mistake of friending any of his family members on Facebook? These quiz things were always so damn easy.
Ah, well, he smiled, at least it isn't anything political. And I can always lord my 10 out of 10 over the rest of 'em, cry-laugh emoji. He clicked the link. Huh. "foghoop.com" -- figured it would be BuzzFeed or something.
He was immediately stuck on the very first question. "Scottish for uncle or friend"? How the hell was he supposed to know that? He'd never heard or read any of the four choices offered, either. After spending entirely too much time deliberating whether to just open a new tab and cheat, he clicked a random box and the next question appeared.
It was some kind of complex mathematical equation. Physics, maybe? Fuck. Where had his mom even found this thing? One of the answers wasn't even a formula, it just said, "Greetings, Starfighter!" in the box.
Hardee-freaking-har, quiz, he thought. Bemused and a bit grumpy, he clicked it.
All of the questions were like that, either random and very specialized trivia or complex problems which probably required degrees in several sciences. He couldn't even hazard an educated guess at most of them.
Glumly resorting to "eeny-meeny-miney-moe", he clicked his final choice, and a box labelled "Calculating Score..." popped up, with one of those rotating blue circles in it that supposedly assured you the website was actually doing something computery.
This went on for several minutes.
"Oh, come on," Ferdie breathed. After all that, the damn site was borked? Annoyed, he moused up to close the tab and forget the whole thing.
The rotating blue circle suddenly turned blood-red. A beam of light shot out of the monitor, bathing him in head-to-toe crimson.
Ferdie screamed and vanished in a scintillating mist of pixels and scan lines.
* * *
The away team stared up at the great, glowing arch of the Guardian of Forever. At its timeworn apex, someone or something had carved the enigmatic inscription: "ULTIMA FOG HOOP"
"Analysis, Mr. Spock?" murmured Kirk.
Spock frowned at his tricorder screen. "The lettering is definitely the Latin alphabet, Captain, but the phrase itself would seem to make no sense. Tricorder readings indicate the mist coalescing off the inside of the arch is simple water condensation." He turned dials and pushed buttons, the tricorder booping and beeping. "Terran historical archives list "FOGHOOP" as a brand of artificial fog maker, evidently used in your primitive 20th century motion entertainments to add 'atmosphere' to a scene." The first officer arched an eyebrow. "I rather doubt they were responsible for this."
"Bones?"
"Well, don't look at me, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a bloody SFX coordinator!" grumped McCoy.
"Och," breathed Scotty, rolling his eyes. "Why dinnae we just ask th' beastie?"
"Excellent suggestion, Mr. Scott," grinned Kirk, turning to face the ancient machine. "Guardian," he intoned.
"'SUP?" came the basso profundo voice of the Guardian.
The landing party exchanged quick, quizzical glances.
"Can you explain the inscription on your arch for us?" continued Kirk.
"NAH."
"Is anyone else getting kind of freaked the fuck out right now?" whispered McCoy.
The mists inside the portal suddenly thickened and parted, and a rather statuesque young green woman wearing rather a minimum of clothing stepped out of them.
"It's mah niece," said a shocked Scotty. "Fer th' love o' God, Ferdie, cover y'self, lass!" he yelled.
"I am for you, Jim Kirk," Ferdie purred, slinking slowly towards him.
"That... doesn't even make any sense," he protested.
"Ye keep yer hands off her, ye great soddin' wankstain!" roared Scott, charging him.
"Scotty, NO!" Bones hollered.
"Guardian!" yelled Spock. "Is this your doing?"
"TOTES MAGOTES," affirmed the Guardian.
Spock suddenly sat down on a handy broken column. He seemed to have a very bad headache.
Kirk and Scott were meanwhile rolling all around the dirt in front of the Guardian, wrestling very ineffectually. The air around Ferdie shimmered slightly, and suddenly she was a robed alien with a great big veiny bald head. She put her thumbs in her ears and waggled her hands at them, sticking out her tongue for good measure.
"Oh my God," gasped McCoy. "Jim, we've been tricked!" he yelled. "This isn't the Guardian's planet, IT'S TALOS IV!!"
"MORE LIKE TOOTS MAGOOTS, AMIRITE?" laughed the Guardian. Kirk paused in shock, allowing Scotty to land a rather lame two-handed punch to his sternum, which nonetheless sent him spinning helplessly into the portal.
The last thing he saw before the mists closed around him was Captain Christopher Pike, the light on the front of his travel chair blinking "NO" again and again and again and again and...
"Analysis, Mr. Spock?" murmured Kirk.
Spock frowned at his tricorder screen. "The lettering is definitely the Latin alphabet, Captain, but the phrase itself would seem to make no sense. Tricorder readings indicate the mist coalescing off the inside of the arch is simple water condensation." He turned dials and pushed buttons, the tricorder booping and beeping. "Terran historical archives list "FOGHOOP" as a brand of artificial fog maker, evidently used in your primitive 20th century motion entertainments to add 'atmosphere' to a scene." The first officer arched an eyebrow. "I rather doubt they were responsible for this."
"Bones?"
"Well, don't look at me, Jim, I'm a doctor, not a bloody SFX coordinator!" grumped McCoy.
"Och," breathed Scotty, rolling his eyes. "Why dinnae we just ask th' beastie?"
"Excellent suggestion, Mr. Scott," grinned Kirk, turning to face the ancient machine. "Guardian," he intoned.
"'SUP?" came the basso profundo voice of the Guardian.
The landing party exchanged quick, quizzical glances.
"Can you explain the inscription on your arch for us?" continued Kirk.
"NAH."
"Is anyone else getting kind of freaked the fuck out right now?" whispered McCoy.
The mists inside the portal suddenly thickened and parted, and a rather statuesque young green woman wearing rather a minimum of clothing stepped out of them.
"It's mah niece," said a shocked Scotty. "Fer th' love o' God, Ferdie, cover y'self, lass!" he yelled.
"I am for you, Jim Kirk," Ferdie purred, slinking slowly towards him.
"That... doesn't even make any sense," he protested.
"Ye keep yer hands off her, ye great soddin' wankstain!" roared Scott, charging him.
"Scotty, NO!" Bones hollered.
"Guardian!" yelled Spock. "Is this your doing?"
"TOTES MAGOTES," affirmed the Guardian.
Spock suddenly sat down on a handy broken column. He seemed to have a very bad headache.
Kirk and Scott were meanwhile rolling all around the dirt in front of the Guardian, wrestling very ineffectually. The air around Ferdie shimmered slightly, and suddenly she was a robed alien with a great big veiny bald head. She put her thumbs in her ears and waggled her hands at them, sticking out her tongue for good measure.
"Oh my God," gasped McCoy. "Jim, we've been tricked!" he yelled. "This isn't the Guardian's planet, IT'S TALOS IV!!"
"MORE LIKE TOOTS MAGOOTS, AMIRITE?" laughed the Guardian. Kirk paused in shock, allowing Scotty to land a rather lame two-handed punch to his sternum, which nonetheless sent him spinning helplessly into the portal.
The last thing he saw before the mists closed around him was Captain Christopher Pike, the light on the front of his travel chair blinking "NO" again and again and again and again and...
* * *
>south
Maze
This is part of a maze of twisty little passages, all alike.
Your sword is glowing with a faint blue glow.
>southeast
Cyclops Room
This room has an exit on the northwest, and a staircase leading up.
A cyclops, who looks exactly like the ogre from the Shrek movies, except for the one eye, blocks the staircase. From his state of health, and the bloodstains on the walls and the donkey skeleton in the corner, you gather that he is not very friendly, though he likes people.
Your sword has begun to glow very brightly.
>say "ulysses"
The cyclops' trumpety-looking little ear things twitch slightly. He has begun to drool noticeably.
>say "odysseus"
The cyclops has produced a knife and fork from somewhere. He advances hungrily.
>say "foghoop?"
The cyclops stops in his tracks and grins broadly, revealing a set of choppers that would probably look right at home in Arlington National Cemetery. "Ferdie!" he yells happily. "Good t'see yeh, laddie! How's yer Mum doin'?" He picks you up in his enormous arms to give you a great big bear hug.
Unfortunately, this powderizes every single bone in your body.
**** You have died ****
>fuck
You can't even do that.
>look
Cyclops Room
This room has an exit on the northwest, and a staircase leading up.
A very weepy cyclops is sitting in the corner mumbling to himself and gently caressing a donkey skull.
>up
You can't go that way.
>northwest
You can't go that way.
>quit
You wish.
* * *
Superman breathed a sigh of relief, and set the Phantom Zone projector down on the roof of the Daily Planet building. "Well, it was touch-and-go for awhile, but we did it. Good work, everyone!"
Everyone cheered and clapped, except for Jimmy Olsen, who was lying in the shadow of the Planet's globe with his limbs all bent in odd directions.
"Chew mah banger, yeh great blue walloper!" he screamed.
Lois gasped and turned a bit red. Perry's cigar fell out of his mouth. Superman looked hurt and a bit confused. "There's no need for that kind of language, Jimmy. Also, why are you speaking like that? I thought you had Danish ancestry?"
"Yeh severed mah spine with yer fookin' heat vision!"
"It was the only way to trick my evil Kryptonian niece, Foh-Gu, back into the Zone, Jim. If she saw I was capable of doing that to my best pal, she wouldn't hesitate to think I'd kill her if she didn't go."
"Bollocks!"
"Besides, Jimmy," added Lois brightly, "you'll be right as rain once Superman flies you to his Fortress and puts you into the autodoc he brought back from the 30th Century!"
"Bite me bawsack, hoor! It hurt like a muther!"
"Now, see here, Olsen..."
"Stick that cigar up yer arse, White, I quit!"
"Jimmy, you don't mean that!" cried Lois, her eyes full of hurt tears. "Where's Clark, I bet he can talk some sense into you!"
"That's Clark Kent, right there!" yelled Jimmy, pointing as best he could at Superman. "It's a fookin' pair o' glasses, ya blind shites!"
"He's, uh, obviously delusional from the pain!" Superman chuckled nervously. "I'd better be getting him to the Fortress ASAP!" He quickly scooped up Jimmy and flew north.
Somewhere over Greenland, his grip on Jimmy faltered alarmingly. "Ohhhh," he gasped, "so w-weak... must b-be... Kryptonite..." He winked evilly.
"No! Please, pal, I'm beggin' yeh!" Jimmy cried. "I'll tell 'em anything..."
"It's like you said, 'pal', they're not the sharpest tools in the shed. I'll just tell them you're on vacation in the bottle city of Kandor, that ought to hold them for a month or so..."
It seemed like the fall took a very, very long time. Then the entire universe crinkled into a ball and crushed him.
Everyone cheered and clapped, except for Jimmy Olsen, who was lying in the shadow of the Planet's globe with his limbs all bent in odd directions.
"Chew mah banger, yeh great blue walloper!" he screamed.
Lois gasped and turned a bit red. Perry's cigar fell out of his mouth. Superman looked hurt and a bit confused. "There's no need for that kind of language, Jimmy. Also, why are you speaking like that? I thought you had Danish ancestry?"
"Yeh severed mah spine with yer fookin' heat vision!"
"It was the only way to trick my evil Kryptonian niece, Foh-Gu, back into the Zone, Jim. If she saw I was capable of doing that to my best pal, she wouldn't hesitate to think I'd kill her if she didn't go."
"Bollocks!"
"Besides, Jimmy," added Lois brightly, "you'll be right as rain once Superman flies you to his Fortress and puts you into the autodoc he brought back from the 30th Century!"
"Bite me bawsack, hoor! It hurt like a muther!"
"Now, see here, Olsen..."
"Stick that cigar up yer arse, White, I quit!"
"Jimmy, you don't mean that!" cried Lois, her eyes full of hurt tears. "Where's Clark, I bet he can talk some sense into you!"
"That's Clark Kent, right there!" yelled Jimmy, pointing as best he could at Superman. "It's a fookin' pair o' glasses, ya blind shites!"
"He's, uh, obviously delusional from the pain!" Superman chuckled nervously. "I'd better be getting him to the Fortress ASAP!" He quickly scooped up Jimmy and flew north.
Somewhere over Greenland, his grip on Jimmy faltered alarmingly. "Ohhhh," he gasped, "so w-weak... must b-be... Kryptonite..." He winked evilly.
"No! Please, pal, I'm beggin' yeh!" Jimmy cried. "I'll tell 'em anything..."
"It's like you said, 'pal', they're not the sharpest tools in the shed. I'll just tell them you're on vacation in the bottle city of Kandor, that ought to hold them for a month or so..."
It seemed like the fall took a very, very long time. Then the entire universe crinkled into a ball and crushed him.
* * *
"Edit #5,271,009? God damn!"
Ferdie pulled the sheet of paper out of her ancient IBM Selectric, wadded it up and threw it at the trash bin. It didn't even hit the rim, but it did scare her cat out from under the desk.
Some writer she was! She'd spent months, hell, almost a whole year revising her cruddy erotic fanfic, and she hadn't even gotten any of the characters boning yet! Why did she have to be such an unbelievable perfectionist?
She sighed and rubbed her temples. She had another headache. Seemed like she got a lot of headaches lately. Probably best to take some Advil and do something relaxing for a change.
After downing her pills with some juice, she flooped onto the bed and picked up her Sunday edition of the Foghoop York Times (Wait, what? Ah, I really am loopy today, she thought), already folded open to the crossword puzzle. She uncapped her Pilot Precise (pencils were for losers) and decided to work on those little connecting words that were always such a damn pain. The funky ones from some other language or, heaven forfend, archaic.
Let's seeeeee, she thought. 49 Across, three letters, starts with "E", definition - why, of course, Scot. word, definition: uncle or... friend...
Why did that sound so familiar?
...and something in her mind suddenly went "click", and a bright light shone all around him...
* * *
"Ferdinand! Ye're awake, laddie!"
The face of his kindly old Uncle Angus hovered above him, tears streaming down his craggy cheeks.
He sat up in bed with surprisingly little effort. "How long was I out, Uncle?"
"Och, it's been three weeks, Ferdie! We were beginnin' tah fear ye'd never wake up!" Angus sniffed and blew his nose loudly in a pocket kerchief.
"There, there, old son, I'm fine now, rest easy!"
The old man sniffed again. "It's just tha', when yer ship landed in me field here, ye were so still, and nuthin' could wake ye'..."
"I had her set on autopilot in case of emergency," explained Ferdinand, grinning. "And where else would I have it take me than to my favorite uncle's farm?"
"But what happened, lad?"
Ferdie's face clouded in anger. "It was those thrice-damned Denuvians! They knew I was brokering the peace talks between them and Shibboleth 7, and they wanted me out of the way. They ambushed me in orbit, hit me with some kind of brain ray. Obviously they thought they were leaving me for dead." He smiled a cold smile. "They're about to get a bit of a surprise."
He paused, pondering. "The ray must have put me into a coma-like state. It erased much of my surface memories, but not all of them. My subconscious mind went pretty wild, I must say. But it also fed me clues, Uncle Angus. Clues I used to work my way back to full consciousness."
"What type a' clues, lad?"
Ferdinand smiled. "Why, clues about you, Uncle. I think I can honestly say that without you, I might never have made it back."
"I might never have realized that it was drawl just an eme."
August 17,2020
(Thanks and apologies
to Reginald Bretnor,
ViacomCBS, Infocom,
DC Comics, Alfred Bester,
crossword puzzle makers,
and just generally all sentient life.
Also, ow, stop hitting me.)
