If you could travel anywhere in the world, during any time period you wished, to where and when would you travel? Answer this question with a description of the time period and place you would travel to, things you would do, and people you would see for 2 PUBLISHER POINTS.
Would it be New York City in the 1920s? How about Egypt during the construction of the Great Pyramid? The planet Mars in the year 3030? Take some time to think and be descriptive!
Tuesday, September 30, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Banned Books Week 2014
This week is Banned Books Week and in light of this I am asking for your help. Send me 250-350 words explaining what your favorite book is, what it means to you, and how not being able to come back into contact with that book (due to its being banned or censored) would affect you. Do this simple task and earn yourself 1 PUBLISHER POINT. Hurry! Only a few more days left in the month to earn the title of Publisher of the Month.
Thursday, September 18, 2014
The Game Has Begun. Parth the Fifth. By Patrick
Mouses’ Letter
This is possibly the shortest story you will see from us, for, you see, it isn’t a story. This was all ONE story, and this is it’s ending. Or, perhaps, simply the beginning to the next story. All depends on how you read this.
I figured the last one ended a bit abruptly, but, Cursor is the editor, so I felt that I should be allowed a letter. It was very difficult to persuade him, but I managed it. I felt as though you’d want a slight bit more closure than that.
I also felt I should go slightly more in depth about the ending of Part The Third. You see, the reason Cursor didn’t post what we told the girl to talk her down is simple. But, we’ll do that last.
Firstly, we need to talk about what happened after Cath found us. She seemed very excited, and we spent the next few hours chronicling our adventures for her. Some of which you see now, and read before this. Some of which you’ll read, or even help write, later on.
She took us back to her apartment in her watch, which was truly an ingenious invention. And then...
PRESENTS! WE GOT PRESENTS!!
She gave me a moustache, and Cursor got a monocle. She also gave us a blog (which you’re reading right now). She says that for every person we can help, or mystery we solve, or even just adventure we have, she’ll give us a new accessory. Maybe you can help us think up a few? We’re stumped.
I think that about covers what happened after we left. We’re currently sitting on Caths’ wrist. I’m dictating this to her, and she’s putting it up on our blog in just another minute. First, though. The very,
very simple reason, that Cursor didn’t post what we said to that girl.
It is this:
You talked her down.
You.
Not us.
You.
We’re just the mouthpiece.
You were the one sitting in her phone.
You were the one talking her down.
Making her feel as though she had worth.
You heard her problems.
You fixed them.
And if you haven’t yet.
You will.
It might be you doing the talking, or listening to someone else talking.
It might be a boy, or a girl, or your best friend, or a perfect stranger. Doesn’t make a difference.
You were the words.
You were the voice.
We just amplified it.
And for being the voice.
The voice that we can’t be, at times.
The voice that person needs, to continue that day.
And for being your own voice.
We thank you.
End Part The Fifth.
This is possibly the shortest story you will see from us, for, you see, it isn’t a story. This was all ONE story, and this is it’s ending. Or, perhaps, simply the beginning to the next story. All depends on how you read this.
I figured the last one ended a bit abruptly, but, Cursor is the editor, so I felt that I should be allowed a letter. It was very difficult to persuade him, but I managed it. I felt as though you’d want a slight bit more closure than that.
I also felt I should go slightly more in depth about the ending of Part The Third. You see, the reason Cursor didn’t post what we told the girl to talk her down is simple. But, we’ll do that last.
Firstly, we need to talk about what happened after Cath found us. She seemed very excited, and we spent the next few hours chronicling our adventures for her. Some of which you see now, and read before this. Some of which you’ll read, or even help write, later on.
She took us back to her apartment in her watch, which was truly an ingenious invention. And then...
PRESENTS! WE GOT PRESENTS!!
She gave me a moustache, and Cursor got a monocle. She also gave us a blog (which you’re reading right now). She says that for every person we can help, or mystery we solve, or even just adventure we have, she’ll give us a new accessory. Maybe you can help us think up a few? We’re stumped.
I think that about covers what happened after we left. We’re currently sitting on Caths’ wrist. I’m dictating this to her, and she’s putting it up on our blog in just another minute. First, though. The very,
very simple reason, that Cursor didn’t post what we said to that girl.
It is this:
You talked her down.
You.
Not us.
You.
We’re just the mouthpiece.
You were the one sitting in her phone.
You were the one talking her down.
Making her feel as though she had worth.
You heard her problems.
You fixed them.
And if you haven’t yet.
You will.
It might be you doing the talking, or listening to someone else talking.
It might be a boy, or a girl, or your best friend, or a perfect stranger. Doesn’t make a difference.
You were the words.
You were the voice.
We just amplified it.
And for being the voice.
The voice that we can’t be, at times.
The voice that person needs, to continue that day.
And for being your own voice.
We thank you.
End Part The Fifth.
The Game Has Begun. Part the Fourth. By Patrick
Chapter One
Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeep. Beeeeeep. Doctors and nurses began running. Blip. Blip. Blip. Doors crashed open, and electricity hummed and crackled in the defibrillators. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Doctors
were shouting orders, and nurses were running back and forth, the word “Clear” was sounded several times, as the defibrillators were applied.
Over and over, she was semiconscious, feeling the electricity coursing through her.
Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Feeling, without sensation, her body jerking side to side, up and down, arching and tensing, again and again. Until she felt her spine would break. Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip.
Blip. Blip. Blip. Blip. Over and over. Without any conscious decision, she opened her mouth and let out a scream.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Her heart rate was steadying, her breathing less erratic. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep. The nurses and doctors all breathed a short sigh of relief, knowing she was finally stable. The
doctors projected 3 hours before she woke up. It was all over.
Chapter Two
“I’m just saying, Mouse, there’s no point in trying to learn more about her. I understand you’re bored, I am as well. Perhaps we should just take another nap.” Cursor tried to explain, for the hundredth
time.
“And I’m telling you, Cursor, just because we can’t find any good cases doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be productive.” Mouse answered, slightly miffed.
“This isn’t productive, this is time wasting. But, do what you will. I’m going to take a nap.” And so he did. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this argument, or this ending. It’d been several days since
their last case, and several weeks since their “birth”. They’d taken to living inside of a computer at Caths’ library. Mouse had grown extremely sentimental, so they used their powers of research to learn
more about their mother than just what they were programmed with (her first name, and her face). They’d gone back to her apartment, and found it completely unchanged, and had then traced her to her work. She worked as a high school librarian, and, since discovering this, they’d lived inside a computer at her library. Sitting invisibly on the desktop and returning there after every case.
Cursor was bored, and hoping a case would just appear. Mouse wouldn’t give him the keys to the motorcycle, so he was trapped inside the library computers, or whatever hooked into their Wi-Fi, which could be dangerous, as the Wi-Fi could suddenly turn off and he could be trapped inside (thank goodness he’d made it back before Mouse noticed, that one time...). He usually spent his days simply spying on and deducing anyone who came into the library, which wasn’t at all often. The school was in a bad area, and hadn’t even managed to afford a temp librarian. The principal’s secretary and then English teacher simply came in on their free periods, or were grabbed by other teachers to help students.
Mouse was equally bored, but did a better job of hiding it. He had been further researching their “Mother”, and had found out more and more about her. Apparently, both of her parents had died in a fire, when she was just 16, and left her with an extremely large trust fund... That could only be used for her education. Unless it was for schooling, she literally had no access to the money. Therefore, she’d
been in school for almost ten years, studying Information Technology, and Library Sciences. Purposely failing easy classes, so she could stay in school, because she could use the money to pay for bed and board, so long as it was labeled as tuition fees.
Mouse further saw that she had absolutely no friends, or other family. And, from reading her diary, which she kept in a locked file on her work desktop, he also saw that the students at the school were
horrible to her. Some would even sneak in, after hours, just to tease her for being so strange.
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Maze Runner Fan Fic
In light of the movie coming out next week, you will get 3 PUBLISHER POINTS for any fan fiction turned into wcpldteen@gmail.com using the story and characters of The Maze Runner by James Dashner. For each story submitted, I will post a link to his twitter and ask him to take a look!
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
The Game Has Begun. Part The Third. By Patrick
Chapter One
“Where to next?” Cursor asked loudly, still highly annoyed that he wasn’t driving, while Mouse was driving slowly through the information highway.
“I don’t know, you’re the genius.” Mouse replied, sarcastically.
“I shan’t dignify that with a response. Oh, look, this one seems interesting.” Cursor said, seeing an interesting looking website.
“FaceBook? Surely there’s nothing intelligent on there. How can a Face be a Book?” Mouse said, steering towards the website, anyways.
“Well, if there’s nothing intelligent, then it’ll be even easier to find a case, won’t it?” Cursor said.
Deciding not to answer, Mouse drove onto the site, and then selected a random page. “Well, let’s at least look for a case, yes?”
On the page, was several virtual miles worth of completely random content, and selfies from some teenage girl. Cursor already looked bored, and then Mouse pointed him to the most recent post, posted a few hours ago.
The most recent post was very short, very to the point, and severely blunt.
“Im dun w/ this world. nothin init 4 me. im hangng myselv at mdnyt. try 2 talk me out of it. bet u u cant.”
“Yes, I see we have a sad girl. What does this have to do with us?” Cursor asked, bored again.
“This is our job. People like THIS. People who need our help. Cursor, read the comments.” Mouse answered, growing impatient.
“no1 is guna mis u”
“do a flip”
“make sure 2 ty it tite”
“do it now. save us the drama”
“make sure u sufoc8. that’s easyer than a broken neck”
“I still don’t see how this is a case. This is a counselor’s job, or, more likely, a doctor’s. It’s 1150, already.” Cursor said, after reading all the comments.
“CURSOR! Can we just help her? Maybe make a small difference in someone’s life? For once? Maybe?” Mouse yelled, incandescent with rage.
“Oh, very well. If it troubles you this much. I still say this is a counselor’s job, and not ours.” Cursor said, slightly scared.
In silent anger, Mouse steered the motorcycle through and into the girls phone, dismounting the motorcycle and landing inside her app. Cursor took over her microphone, speakers, and camera, carefully angling himself away from Mouse.
After they got the speakers up, Mouse began to hear her crying. Her phone was facedown on something so they couldn’ see, until Cursor flipped the cameras. They saw that they were laying on her bed, in her
phone, and the could see her tying a thick rope onto the ceiling fan. The other end was already in a noose.
“CURSOR! What’s taking so long?!” Mouse shrieked. Cursor was having difficulty getting the speakers up.
“I DON’T KNOW, I’M TRYING!” Cursor yelled back, manipulating the phone as fast as he could.
“You’re a bloody idiot, for a genius. FIX THE SOUND.” Mouse screamed, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the girl. He could her whimper as she began to slide the noose around her neck.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Cursor said, watching the girl jump as he fixed the sound, and she could suddenly hear them.
She almost dropped the noose, she was so startled. Why did everything have to be difficult? Couldn’t she just die in peace? It would’ve been so easy, and she was so close. Then she wouldn’t have had to listen to them ever again. Maybe she didn’t need to even wonder, maybe she
shouldn’t go check her phone, was she just hearing things? Why not just put the noose on, and jump off the chair, anyways? Yes, definitely, let’s do that.
“Please don’t jump.” Mouse squeaked, half crying, while he watched her bend her knees slightly. This time, she decided that she couldn’t ignore it, so she turned slightly towards her bed, not sure where the
noise was coming from.
“Who’s that? Someone there?” She whispered, twitching slightly, and still holding the noose with both hands.
“Flip your phone over, would you please? I hate looking out of the back cam.” Cursor said in a complete monotone voice.
Carefully the girl edged her way on her chair, not taking off her noose, but not choking herself, and flipping her phone over, gasping when she saw Mouse and Cursor on her screen.
“Ah, much better. Now, care to tell us what’s wrong?” Cursor said, half smiling as she slowly moved the noose off and craned her neck back and forth to watch them better.
“... But, what are you, and why are you inside my phone?” She was looking more scared by the minute. Mouse was slightly stunned, and was quiet with relief that she had taken the noose off. Cursor, on the
other hand, was getting more and more tired of this.
“Very simple, we’re here about the bet.” He told her.
“Bet..?”
“You bet that we couldn’t talk you out of hanging yourself, so, here we are.”
Now, as the editor, I’ve decided to skip this part out of pure boredom. Less time and paperwork for me to just type this than waste my time explaining to you how Mouse and I talked her down from
suicide. I’ll shorten it, save you the time as well. We talked her out of it, mostly me, okay, that’s a lie, mainly Mouse. But, she put the noose down, went on living her life, we went back into cyberspace,
blah blah blah, don’t know why I’m typing this, it’s a complete waste of my time, good day. –Cursor
“Where to next?” Cursor asked loudly, still highly annoyed that he wasn’t driving, while Mouse was driving slowly through the information highway.
“I don’t know, you’re the genius.” Mouse replied, sarcastically.
“I shan’t dignify that with a response. Oh, look, this one seems interesting.” Cursor said, seeing an interesting looking website.
“FaceBook? Surely there’s nothing intelligent on there. How can a Face be a Book?” Mouse said, steering towards the website, anyways.
“Well, if there’s nothing intelligent, then it’ll be even easier to find a case, won’t it?” Cursor said.
Deciding not to answer, Mouse drove onto the site, and then selected a random page. “Well, let’s at least look for a case, yes?”
On the page, was several virtual miles worth of completely random content, and selfies from some teenage girl. Cursor already looked bored, and then Mouse pointed him to the most recent post, posted a few hours ago.
The most recent post was very short, very to the point, and severely blunt.
“Im dun w/ this world. nothin init 4 me. im hangng myselv at mdnyt. try 2 talk me out of it. bet u u cant.”
“Yes, I see we have a sad girl. What does this have to do with us?” Cursor asked, bored again.
“This is our job. People like THIS. People who need our help. Cursor, read the comments.” Mouse answered, growing impatient.
“no1 is guna mis u”
“do a flip”
“make sure 2 ty it tite”
“do it now. save us the drama”
“make sure u sufoc8. that’s easyer than a broken neck”
“I still don’t see how this is a case. This is a counselor’s job, or, more likely, a doctor’s. It’s 1150, already.” Cursor said, after reading all the comments.
“CURSOR! Can we just help her? Maybe make a small difference in someone’s life? For once? Maybe?” Mouse yelled, incandescent with rage.
“Oh, very well. If it troubles you this much. I still say this is a counselor’s job, and not ours.” Cursor said, slightly scared.
In silent anger, Mouse steered the motorcycle through and into the girls phone, dismounting the motorcycle and landing inside her app. Cursor took over her microphone, speakers, and camera, carefully angling himself away from Mouse.
After they got the speakers up, Mouse began to hear her crying. Her phone was facedown on something so they couldn’ see, until Cursor flipped the cameras. They saw that they were laying on her bed, in her
phone, and the could see her tying a thick rope onto the ceiling fan. The other end was already in a noose.
“CURSOR! What’s taking so long?!” Mouse shrieked. Cursor was having difficulty getting the speakers up.
“I DON’T KNOW, I’M TRYING!” Cursor yelled back, manipulating the phone as fast as he could.
“You’re a bloody idiot, for a genius. FIX THE SOUND.” Mouse screamed, completely unable to tear his eyes away from the girl. He could her whimper as she began to slide the noose around her neck.
“Oh, yes, of course.” Cursor said, watching the girl jump as he fixed the sound, and she could suddenly hear them.
She almost dropped the noose, she was so startled. Why did everything have to be difficult? Couldn’t she just die in peace? It would’ve been so easy, and she was so close. Then she wouldn’t have had to listen to them ever again. Maybe she didn’t need to even wonder, maybe she
shouldn’t go check her phone, was she just hearing things? Why not just put the noose on, and jump off the chair, anyways? Yes, definitely, let’s do that.
“Please don’t jump.” Mouse squeaked, half crying, while he watched her bend her knees slightly. This time, she decided that she couldn’t ignore it, so she turned slightly towards her bed, not sure where the
noise was coming from.
“Who’s that? Someone there?” She whispered, twitching slightly, and still holding the noose with both hands.
“Flip your phone over, would you please? I hate looking out of the back cam.” Cursor said in a complete monotone voice.
Carefully the girl edged her way on her chair, not taking off her noose, but not choking herself, and flipping her phone over, gasping when she saw Mouse and Cursor on her screen.
“Ah, much better. Now, care to tell us what’s wrong?” Cursor said, half smiling as she slowly moved the noose off and craned her neck back and forth to watch them better.
“... But, what are you, and why are you inside my phone?” She was looking more scared by the minute. Mouse was slightly stunned, and was quiet with relief that she had taken the noose off. Cursor, on the
other hand, was getting more and more tired of this.
“Very simple, we’re here about the bet.” He told her.
“Bet..?”
“You bet that we couldn’t talk you out of hanging yourself, so, here we are.”
Now, as the editor, I’ve decided to skip this part out of pure boredom. Less time and paperwork for me to just type this than waste my time explaining to you how Mouse and I talked her down from
suicide. I’ll shorten it, save you the time as well. We talked her out of it, mostly me, okay, that’s a lie, mainly Mouse. But, she put the noose down, went on living her life, we went back into cyberspace,
blah blah blah, don’t know why I’m typing this, it’s a complete waste of my time, good day. –Cursor
End Part The Third.
Monday, September 8, 2014
A Picture is Worth 1,000 Words
They say a picture is worth 1,000 words but I know you are all in
school so 200 words will have to do. Look at this picture and give it
200 of the 1,000 words it is worth. Send your piece to wcpldteen@gmail.com
for 1 PUBLISHER POINT.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
The Game Has Begun. Part The Second. by Patrick
Chapter One
“Can we take the motorcycle, Mouse?” Cursor asked, as they took a
final look around the only room they had ever seen, not fifteen
minutes after their “Birth”.
“Yes, but I’m driving.” Mouse responded.
“BUT I’M THE BETTER DRIVER, LOOK AT ME, I HAVE HUMANOID FEET AND
SOMETHING RESEMBLING HANDS. I SHOULD BE DRIVING, I’M MORE METHODICAL,
LOGICAL, AND CALM.” Cursor yelled in utter indignation.
“No, you’re the one who’s yelling, I’m the calm one, and I’m the
better driver. Mice at least have some human DNA, Cursors were just
created by humans.” Mouse responded, summoning their motorcycle out of
code data, built inside his and Cursors programs by Cath, and
instantly slipping into the drivers’ seat before Cursor could continue
arguing. “Into the sidecar, Cursor. We must keep busy to keep our
heads.”
“Figuratively speaking, I hope. I haven’t got a head, Mouse.” Cursor
said as he climbed into his sidecar.
And off they flew, through the figurative cyberspace, floating
aimlessly as pieces of code. They flew on for only a few seconds,
before they hit the Information Highway, where they continued flying,
arguing over how they should help, and the much more important who.
“You know our code, Mouse, we must fly the internet as we see fit,
finding people, and helping them overcome anything thrown at them. We
get much freedom, but even more responsibility.”
“Yes, I know that. The difficulty is in choosing whom to help. There
are so many people in need of our help, all over the world, and all of
them at our fingertips. How do we choose? How do we single out a
single person to help?”
“Easy. We don’t pick. We just choose at random.” So saying, Cursor
leaned slightly, tipping the motorcycle, and forcing Mouse into a
website called “Tumblr”. “Hmmm... I’m not sure this was wise..” Cursor
said, upon seeing the homepage of his chosen site.
“Well, you picked it, so, it must be right.” Said Mouse, inwardly
laughing at the expression on Cursors “face”. He aimed the motorcycle
into the site, and chose a random blog.
“... Well. This is... Uh... Different.” Said Cursor. They were
standing on a dashboard for a blog, and on the dashboard was several
blown up, anime styled drawings, of two boys, one dark haired with a
scar on his forehead, the other blonde, in several.. “Romantic Scenes”
as Cursor puts it. Meanwhile, Mouse was roaring in laughter at his
partners obvious discomfort.
“What an interesting expression! I thought you were cold, and immune
to emotions, Cursor?”
“I am... Merely surprised. And, vaguely disturbed as to how..” Here,
he checks the information of the blogs owner/operator “ah, here we go,
a 15 year old girl, would have this level of imagination and knowledge
of the human anatomy. It appears that she is either highly
promiscuous, or, she spends QUITE a large amount of time with these...
Characters.”
While Mouse continued to laugh, Cursor was examining the photographs
and general descriptions of the blog owner, and scrolling up and down
through her blog, noticing, that with time, her drawings became more
and more disturbing. Especially over the past few weeks. Less
“Romantic, and sickeningly adorable drawings” as Mouse puts it, in the
beginning, and slowly growing “More... Eerie, and disturbing”.
“Well, clearly she is in a deep state of mental anxiety. Look at her
photos, see as how over the past few months she slowly draws more and
more in on herself? How the drawings become darker, both in setting,
and in actual coloring? She’s becoming depressed, as well as shy,
withdrawn, and basically becoming more of a loner. See how her nails
are slightly bitten, in the photo where she covers her arm with her
sleeve? And look at her hair, it was carefully cut to keep her face
covered, and then left unkempt, a period of a few months ago. She’s
deliberately trying to hide herself, but why?” Cursor talked at Mouse.
“Um... Well, perhaps she’s having trouble at school? Her drawings are
excellent, but perhaps that shows a disposition against maths?” Mouse
responded hopefully.
“No, close but no.” Cursor said, drawing out the no’s. “See, the
problem is at school, that is clear, see the timestamps on some of her
doodles? It’s during school hours, so clearly she is drawing during
school hours, and then posting it. As if she’s distracting herself,
perhaps. Or, trying her hardest not to be noticed, while using it as a
type of stress relief. And notice how they seem to go up, during her
lunch breaks, when normally a student would be spending time with
friends. Clearly, she’s avoiding someone. But, again, in her posts,
she states things such as ‘ ^-^ Got lonely during lunch, so have this
drawing.’, what does this tell us, Mouse?”
“..... Errrmmm... She’s lonely, but she enjoys it?” Mouse tried, half-heartedly.
“No, it means that she is good at avoiding whoever it is, or is
putting on a brave face. Perhaps lying to her friends and saying she’d
rather be alone and draw, etc. Clearly the person she is trying to
avoid knows that she is avoiding them, and is making no effort to
change that. I would guess that the person she is avoiding is some
form of stalker. And not in a good way.” Cursor responded.
“So, we have a case...?” Mouse ventured, after getting tired of
watching Cursor staring blankly at the drawings.
“What? Oh, yes, I suppose we do. We might as well wait around for her
to get home. We have a few hours until school ends, I believe.” So
saying, Mouse and Cursor went, in unison, through the blog, and landed
in the girls laptop, where they faded out, and went into an automatic
sleep state. They wouldn’t awaken until the laptop was woken up.
Chapter Two.
It could have been hours, or seconds later, when Mouse and Cursor were
awoken. Instantly, Mouse began to hack into the laptop's webcam, while
Cursor was hacking the sound and mic systems. Not fifteen seconds
after awakening, they had complete control of the laptops media, and
could see and hear and speak out of it, without interrupting the
computer itself. They, however, kept their forms invisible upon the
screen, so that the girl would be unable to see them. Lucky they did,
for she wasn’t alone.
“What should we start with? Math or art?” One female voice asked.
“Stupid question, Cor.” Said another female voice.
“Knew it. Art?” The first voice asked again.
“Yup. I already finished earlier, which means I’ll be on Tumblr,
laughing while you struggle.”
“.. That’s cold. You won’t even help me, at all?”
“Nope.” The second voice said, while smiling, and reaching for some
colored pencils.
“God, spare me. I’m going to sleep.” Said Cursor to Mouse, without
using the speakers, so as not to be heard. “Wake me when she’s alone.”
So, poor Mouse then had to spend a few hours watching two teenage
girls doing their homework. While watching, he learned that the first
girl was a friend, and her name was Courtney (Cor), while the second
girl, their client, was named Theresa. Theresa seemed to be a quiet
girl. Mouse noted, with quiet irritation, that she was almost exactly
as Cursor described her. Although she seemed very comfortable teasing,
and joking with her friend, it was clear that it was only because
they’d been such good friends for such a long time. After Cor left,
Mouse shook Cursor awake, and then they revealed themselves to
Theresa, by making themselves visible on her laptop. And then trying
to get her to stop screaming. After several minutes of excited and
scared noises they finally calmed her down, and Cursor got to work.
“Alright, I’ll try to make this quick.” He began, speaking even faster
than usual. “We’re computer viruses. Kind of. We’re also AI’s. We were
designed to enter into any system ever designed, and then take it
over. Right now we’re in your laptop. We’ve taken it over. We’re using
your webcam to see you, your speakers to talk to you, and your
microphone to hear you. We can enter virtually, points for the pun,
any system in existence. We were designed to enter into people’s
personal systems in this manner, and then help them through their
life, in whatever they need. Emotionally, and mentally. We won’t be
doing your homework or chores for you, merely doing our best to
console you and help you through your life’s troubles. Any questions?”
He said, in his usual, quick worded, completely deadpan voice.
“... Only, who created you, and why are you both so smart?” Theresa
said after a few moments.
“We were created by a depressed, and clearly suicidal librarian. She
committed suicide mere moments before finishing creating us, and died
as we were booting up.” At this, Mouse burst into tears, and Cursor
shot him a short, somewhat impatient glance, before continuing.
“Alright, she fell unconscious and the ambulance we called took her
away, at any rate. Better, Mouse? We don’t know for sure if she’s
dead. I just happen to be more practical and believe she is. At any
rate, to answer your other question, we were programmed with several
things that most people have to go to school for decades to learn, and
we can access virtually, again, pun, any database we wish. Anything
else?” Cursor explained, semi-haughtily.
“... Why me? Why choose me to help?” Theresa responded, quietly.
“Oh, for gods sake, isn’t is obvious, look at you.” He then repeated
everything he had told Mouse earlier, when he had been observing here,
this time ending with. “Now, we’re here to help you find your stalker,
and hopefully rid you of him. Shall we begin?”
Mouse was very confused. Part of him wanted to yell at Cursor for
being so blunt, and the other wanted to laugh at the confused look on
Theresa’s face.
Chapter Three
Several hours later, things had been fully explained to Mouse and
Cursor and a plan had been made. Much to Mouse’s irritation, and
Cursors quiet pride, he had been completely right. Someone had been
leaving numerous notes inside Theresa’s locker. All of them following
the same pattern. All of them generally being hate mail on her
drawings. Calling her childish, moronic, imbecilic, and more besides,
for her childish obsession with characters. Admittedly, they were from
her childhood, but what should that matter? It was rather simple.
Someone wanted her to “grow up” and stop drawing.
So, Cursor suggested the simplest form of action. Theresa would place
her phone inside her locker when school started, Mouse and Cursor
would lie in wait, and they would snap multiple pictures of the
culprit. They would then take the pictures to the principal and stop
the harassment. It worked perfectly. Mouse and Cursor went into her
phone, and went to sleep. They set their sleep modes to be sound
activated.
The moment the culprit opened the locker, Mouse and Cursor woke up,
and began taking pictures. There were twenty minutes left in the
school day, and Cursor was examining the pictures of the culprit. The
culprit had the same severely dark hair and eyes, that Theresa had,
and as Cursor was examining the pictures he breathed out slightly, in
realization.
“Got it.” He breathed. “It’s all very simple. Look, he’s in a
letterman jacket, he’s a football player. And look at his teeth, he
spends far too much time and attention on them, clearly he’s very
“popular” with the other students, and works hard to maintain it.
Perhaps he’s not very good at football, or not very important on the
team. Which, you can again tell by how pristine his jacket is, and the
fact that it’s worn often, but dirtied and washed rarely. He has the
exact same hair, eyes, and cheekbones as... His sister.”
Mouse was simultaneously annoyed, impressed, and filled with pride at
Cursors quick deductions. Still twirling his moustache, he asked “And
why would he do this to his sister?”
“Well, clearly because she is reflecting badly on him. See the furtive
glances he cast left and right to be assured that nobody would notice?
And the heavy emphasis on his sister to “Quit her weird drawings, and
be a normal person”? She is reflecting badly upon him, and he wishes
that to end, by refusing to accept her, and also attempting to change
her to further his own status. Well, I think we’ve done more than
enough, here. What say you, partner?” Cursor said, typing up his
deductions on Theresa’s notepad app while he talked.
“Well... Shouldn’t we stay to help her get through the trauma of it?”
Mouse asked.
“No. She’s strong. She will be quite angry with her brother and I’m
certain the principal, and her teachers, and their parents will all
step in. She’ll be just fine in the morning. We have another case to
find.” He said curtly.
“Well... Alright. I’m driving.” Mouse replied, summoning their motorcycle.
“Confound it! Let me drive!”
“No. I’m driving. I’m older.”
“ACCORDING TO WHO?”
“Me. Just now. I thought of myself as older, and voiced it first,
therefore, I am older.”
Grumbling all the way, Cursor climbed into the sidecar, as they flew
off again, through cyberspace and into the next adventure.
End Part The Second.
“Can we take the motorcycle, Mouse?” Cursor asked, as they took a
final look around the only room they had ever seen, not fifteen
minutes after their “Birth”.
“Yes, but I’m driving.” Mouse responded.
“BUT I’M THE BETTER DRIVER, LOOK AT ME, I HAVE HUMANOID FEET AND
SOMETHING RESEMBLING HANDS. I SHOULD BE DRIVING, I’M MORE METHODICAL,
LOGICAL, AND CALM.” Cursor yelled in utter indignation.
“No, you’re the one who’s yelling, I’m the calm one, and I’m the
better driver. Mice at least have some human DNA, Cursors were just
created by humans.” Mouse responded, summoning their motorcycle out of
code data, built inside his and Cursors programs by Cath, and
instantly slipping into the drivers’ seat before Cursor could continue
arguing. “Into the sidecar, Cursor. We must keep busy to keep our
heads.”
“Figuratively speaking, I hope. I haven’t got a head, Mouse.” Cursor
said as he climbed into his sidecar.
And off they flew, through the figurative cyberspace, floating
aimlessly as pieces of code. They flew on for only a few seconds,
before they hit the Information Highway, where they continued flying,
arguing over how they should help, and the much more important who.
“You know our code, Mouse, we must fly the internet as we see fit,
finding people, and helping them overcome anything thrown at them. We
get much freedom, but even more responsibility.”
“Yes, I know that. The difficulty is in choosing whom to help. There
are so many people in need of our help, all over the world, and all of
them at our fingertips. How do we choose? How do we single out a
single person to help?”
“Easy. We don’t pick. We just choose at random.” So saying, Cursor
leaned slightly, tipping the motorcycle, and forcing Mouse into a
website called “Tumblr”. “Hmmm... I’m not sure this was wise..” Cursor
said, upon seeing the homepage of his chosen site.
“Well, you picked it, so, it must be right.” Said Mouse, inwardly
laughing at the expression on Cursors “face”. He aimed the motorcycle
into the site, and chose a random blog.
“... Well. This is... Uh... Different.” Said Cursor. They were
standing on a dashboard for a blog, and on the dashboard was several
blown up, anime styled drawings, of two boys, one dark haired with a
scar on his forehead, the other blonde, in several.. “Romantic Scenes”
as Cursor puts it. Meanwhile, Mouse was roaring in laughter at his
partners obvious discomfort.
“What an interesting expression! I thought you were cold, and immune
to emotions, Cursor?”
“I am... Merely surprised. And, vaguely disturbed as to how..” Here,
he checks the information of the blogs owner/operator “ah, here we go,
a 15 year old girl, would have this level of imagination and knowledge
of the human anatomy. It appears that she is either highly
promiscuous, or, she spends QUITE a large amount of time with these...
Characters.”
While Mouse continued to laugh, Cursor was examining the photographs
and general descriptions of the blog owner, and scrolling up and down
through her blog, noticing, that with time, her drawings became more
and more disturbing. Especially over the past few weeks. Less
“Romantic, and sickeningly adorable drawings” as Mouse puts it, in the
beginning, and slowly growing “More... Eerie, and disturbing”.
“Well, clearly she is in a deep state of mental anxiety. Look at her
photos, see as how over the past few months she slowly draws more and
more in on herself? How the drawings become darker, both in setting,
and in actual coloring? She’s becoming depressed, as well as shy,
withdrawn, and basically becoming more of a loner. See how her nails
are slightly bitten, in the photo where she covers her arm with her
sleeve? And look at her hair, it was carefully cut to keep her face
covered, and then left unkempt, a period of a few months ago. She’s
deliberately trying to hide herself, but why?” Cursor talked at Mouse.
“Um... Well, perhaps she’s having trouble at school? Her drawings are
excellent, but perhaps that shows a disposition against maths?” Mouse
responded hopefully.
“No, close but no.” Cursor said, drawing out the no’s. “See, the
problem is at school, that is clear, see the timestamps on some of her
doodles? It’s during school hours, so clearly she is drawing during
school hours, and then posting it. As if she’s distracting herself,
perhaps. Or, trying her hardest not to be noticed, while using it as a
type of stress relief. And notice how they seem to go up, during her
lunch breaks, when normally a student would be spending time with
friends. Clearly, she’s avoiding someone. But, again, in her posts,
she states things such as ‘ ^-^ Got lonely during lunch, so have this
drawing.’, what does this tell us, Mouse?”
“..... Errrmmm... She’s lonely, but she enjoys it?” Mouse tried, half-heartedly.
“No, it means that she is good at avoiding whoever it is, or is
putting on a brave face. Perhaps lying to her friends and saying she’d
rather be alone and draw, etc. Clearly the person she is trying to
avoid knows that she is avoiding them, and is making no effort to
change that. I would guess that the person she is avoiding is some
form of stalker. And not in a good way.” Cursor responded.
“So, we have a case...?” Mouse ventured, after getting tired of
watching Cursor staring blankly at the drawings.
“What? Oh, yes, I suppose we do. We might as well wait around for her
to get home. We have a few hours until school ends, I believe.” So
saying, Mouse and Cursor went, in unison, through the blog, and landed
in the girls laptop, where they faded out, and went into an automatic
sleep state. They wouldn’t awaken until the laptop was woken up.
Chapter Two.
It could have been hours, or seconds later, when Mouse and Cursor were
awoken. Instantly, Mouse began to hack into the laptop's webcam, while
Cursor was hacking the sound and mic systems. Not fifteen seconds
after awakening, they had complete control of the laptops media, and
could see and hear and speak out of it, without interrupting the
computer itself. They, however, kept their forms invisible upon the
screen, so that the girl would be unable to see them. Lucky they did,
for she wasn’t alone.
“What should we start with? Math or art?” One female voice asked.
“Stupid question, Cor.” Said another female voice.
“Knew it. Art?” The first voice asked again.
“Yup. I already finished earlier, which means I’ll be on Tumblr,
laughing while you struggle.”
“.. That’s cold. You won’t even help me, at all?”
“Nope.” The second voice said, while smiling, and reaching for some
colored pencils.
“God, spare me. I’m going to sleep.” Said Cursor to Mouse, without
using the speakers, so as not to be heard. “Wake me when she’s alone.”
So, poor Mouse then had to spend a few hours watching two teenage
girls doing their homework. While watching, he learned that the first
girl was a friend, and her name was Courtney (Cor), while the second
girl, their client, was named Theresa. Theresa seemed to be a quiet
girl. Mouse noted, with quiet irritation, that she was almost exactly
as Cursor described her. Although she seemed very comfortable teasing,
and joking with her friend, it was clear that it was only because
they’d been such good friends for such a long time. After Cor left,
Mouse shook Cursor awake, and then they revealed themselves to
Theresa, by making themselves visible on her laptop. And then trying
to get her to stop screaming. After several minutes of excited and
scared noises they finally calmed her down, and Cursor got to work.
“Alright, I’ll try to make this quick.” He began, speaking even faster
than usual. “We’re computer viruses. Kind of. We’re also AI’s. We were
designed to enter into any system ever designed, and then take it
over. Right now we’re in your laptop. We’ve taken it over. We’re using
your webcam to see you, your speakers to talk to you, and your
microphone to hear you. We can enter virtually, points for the pun,
any system in existence. We were designed to enter into people’s
personal systems in this manner, and then help them through their
life, in whatever they need. Emotionally, and mentally. We won’t be
doing your homework or chores for you, merely doing our best to
console you and help you through your life’s troubles. Any questions?”
He said, in his usual, quick worded, completely deadpan voice.
“... Only, who created you, and why are you both so smart?” Theresa
said after a few moments.
“We were created by a depressed, and clearly suicidal librarian. She
committed suicide mere moments before finishing creating us, and died
as we were booting up.” At this, Mouse burst into tears, and Cursor
shot him a short, somewhat impatient glance, before continuing.
“Alright, she fell unconscious and the ambulance we called took her
away, at any rate. Better, Mouse? We don’t know for sure if she’s
dead. I just happen to be more practical and believe she is. At any
rate, to answer your other question, we were programmed with several
things that most people have to go to school for decades to learn, and
we can access virtually, again, pun, any database we wish. Anything
else?” Cursor explained, semi-haughtily.
“... Why me? Why choose me to help?” Theresa responded, quietly.
“Oh, for gods sake, isn’t is obvious, look at you.” He then repeated
everything he had told Mouse earlier, when he had been observing here,
this time ending with. “Now, we’re here to help you find your stalker,
and hopefully rid you of him. Shall we begin?”
Mouse was very confused. Part of him wanted to yell at Cursor for
being so blunt, and the other wanted to laugh at the confused look on
Theresa’s face.
Chapter Three
Several hours later, things had been fully explained to Mouse and
Cursor and a plan had been made. Much to Mouse’s irritation, and
Cursors quiet pride, he had been completely right. Someone had been
leaving numerous notes inside Theresa’s locker. All of them following
the same pattern. All of them generally being hate mail on her
drawings. Calling her childish, moronic, imbecilic, and more besides,
for her childish obsession with characters. Admittedly, they were from
her childhood, but what should that matter? It was rather simple.
Someone wanted her to “grow up” and stop drawing.
So, Cursor suggested the simplest form of action. Theresa would place
her phone inside her locker when school started, Mouse and Cursor
would lie in wait, and they would snap multiple pictures of the
culprit. They would then take the pictures to the principal and stop
the harassment. It worked perfectly. Mouse and Cursor went into her
phone, and went to sleep. They set their sleep modes to be sound
activated.
The moment the culprit opened the locker, Mouse and Cursor woke up,
and began taking pictures. There were twenty minutes left in the
school day, and Cursor was examining the pictures of the culprit. The
culprit had the same severely dark hair and eyes, that Theresa had,
and as Cursor was examining the pictures he breathed out slightly, in
realization.
“Got it.” He breathed. “It’s all very simple. Look, he’s in a
letterman jacket, he’s a football player. And look at his teeth, he
spends far too much time and attention on them, clearly he’s very
“popular” with the other students, and works hard to maintain it.
Perhaps he’s not very good at football, or not very important on the
team. Which, you can again tell by how pristine his jacket is, and the
fact that it’s worn often, but dirtied and washed rarely. He has the
exact same hair, eyes, and cheekbones as... His sister.”
Mouse was simultaneously annoyed, impressed, and filled with pride at
Cursors quick deductions. Still twirling his moustache, he asked “And
why would he do this to his sister?”
“Well, clearly because she is reflecting badly on him. See the furtive
glances he cast left and right to be assured that nobody would notice?
And the heavy emphasis on his sister to “Quit her weird drawings, and
be a normal person”? She is reflecting badly upon him, and he wishes
that to end, by refusing to accept her, and also attempting to change
her to further his own status. Well, I think we’ve done more than
enough, here. What say you, partner?” Cursor said, typing up his
deductions on Theresa’s notepad app while he talked.
“Well... Shouldn’t we stay to help her get through the trauma of it?”
Mouse asked.
“No. She’s strong. She will be quite angry with her brother and I’m
certain the principal, and her teachers, and their parents will all
step in. She’ll be just fine in the morning. We have another case to
find.” He said curtly.
“Well... Alright. I’m driving.” Mouse replied, summoning their motorcycle.
“Confound it! Let me drive!”
“No. I’m driving. I’m older.”
“ACCORDING TO WHO?”
“Me. Just now. I thought of myself as older, and voiced it first,
therefore, I am older.”
Grumbling all the way, Cursor climbed into the sidecar, as they flew
off again, through cyberspace and into the next adventure.
End Part The Second.
Tuesday, September 2, 2014
Publisher of the Month (August)
Congratulations to Patrick Kiltz, our first ever Publisher of the Month! Patrick ended up with a total of 3 PUBLISHER POINTS in August by helping Writers Group create a part of a short story using the reverse engineering writing game. He also earned 2 points for the first part of his Mouse and Cursor story which he called The Game Has Begun. Great job Patrick and make sure to look for more of his story coming soon! I also would like to thank Donna Kubica for her wonderful contributions to the blog and the rest of you at Writers Group who helped create that story. PUBLISH POINTS for September begin today so keep you eyes peeled for ways to earn yourself a tasty prize!
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