Year One of the "False" Prophet Lemonade.

Stevenson Larkin, scribe 18B.

Book of thoughts.

Entry 542:

Whoever this masked person is, that emerged from the burning train, it be no Prophet. Pah!

My Brothers and Sisters are so gullible.

Did they bother to check this Prophet's references? Nay!

They've accepted a Prophet that just fell onto their heads!

For my disbelief in the Prophet, I've been tasked to clean up the wreckage of the burning train. I've been doing it very, very slowly as a sign of protest for I see this new age of the True Prophet for what it really is- a fraudulent time of a Tyrant!

Today I also heard a noise coming from the train that sounded like yells for help. I ignored them. I've had enough of false Prophets emerging miraculously from train wreckages.

Entry 548:

Cold wind and white flakes creep in from the hole in the ceiling of the grand chamber. Many are complaining of the cold. I climbed the rubble and peered out. So much white. The white blinds me, the cold burns something fierce.

The Vending cabinet had promised me things that exist not. There is no great city of Eureka out there. Surely, nothing can survive such foul white-cold. The white-cold must have had eaten Eureka long ago.

I no longer know what to believe. At least the Vending still gifts us crunchy bars, whenever I ask her for such. I seems to have been offered the position of Food-Bringer by my Brethren for my knowledge of where to obtain food. I am no longer sure if I should share the secret of the Vending with my brethren as I wanted to. What if they break the Vending? Who will feed us? The masked prophet from the white-cold? All the Prophet does is demand things from us.

Well, the Prophet did give us a few "salty snacks", but since I am most suspicious of the Prophet's reasons to be here.. I am sticking to the Crunchy Bars.

We've sealed off the great chamber with the broken train, for the cold there had become awfully unpleasant once the train had stopped burning.

Entry 549:

I've started to collect various reports of my Brethren about the Prophet so that one day I may use them to put this fiend from the white, cold land on trial:

1)The Prophet was not pleased with the commemorative statue we've built and demanded that we tear it down immediately to construct a "TALLER ONE".

2)The Prophet was not pleased with the temperature of the tea offered. Tea was unceremoniously thrown into the face of Scribe 11, scalding him severely.

3)The Prophet was not pleased with the flavor/dexterity of the Crunchy Bar that was offered. The Crunchy Bar was slapped into the face of Scribe 9, bruising him severely and leaving a square imprint.

4)The Prophet was not pleased with the bedding offered for sleep, calling it "MOST UNCOMFORTABLE BED I'VE EVER RESTED ON". The investigation uncovered a tiny pea underneath the 12 mattresses. Displeased, the prophet threw the pea at Scribe 17, blinding the Scribe in one eye.

Entry 567:

The revolution is upon us! Finally the Prophet has gone too far by insulting the parchment that my Brethren consider most sacred.

The Prophet called the holy parchment "JUST A STICKER FROM A SOFT DRINK BOTTLE" which has greatly enraged the gathered crowd.

There will be no trial for the Prophet! The False One shall be cast into the Pit of Sugary Death, from which none have ever escaped!

. . .

. . .

Stevenson Larkin, scribe 18B.

Book of thoughts.

Entry ________11:

As my Brethren carried Captain to the pit, I felt endless joy.

We were finally free of the Masked Prophet's tyranny.

While everyone was distracted by Captain's Suffrage in the Pit of Sugary Torment, I crept into the chamber of the dead Grandmaster Baghor. When the Grandmaster died, I found a strange black device within labelled "FAX MACHINE".

I was hoping that it was a magical tool of some kind, so I've asked VENDING about it.

The VENDING told me that it was an outdated device to send messages, most likely dead.

Today, was my chance to find out what it truly was.

I smashed the FAX MACHINE open.

From within, fell out a piece of paper:

/--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dearest Andy,

I've included several items in a box with this letter.

Item one is a temporal watch. Wire it to a fruit and place it into a Vending Machine at the Metro Station 52-21-75. The station is a major hub and its sabotage it will be "fruitful" to our efforts to bring down the System on the Dark Day.

Item two is a hipster device called a fax machine.

Item three is an outlawed writing utensil, a ballpoint pen.

To stay in touch with me, write me notes on this paper and insert paper into the fax machine. The fax machine will scan your notes and create a copy of this paper on my end. Type numbers 1 777 416 265 9999 using the numbers pad to send the letter.

The fax machine technology relies on the old phone lines, which are separate from the Neural Net, and is thus untraceable. From my research, the Metro stations still have antiquated electrical and phone line sockets that can synch with the fax machine.

Yours,

Ariette.

. . .

Dear Ariette,

I had to act fast, it took me a very long time to find a working power plug for the fax machine that was close enough to a working phone line outlet. Thankfully the wires you provided were long enough, but commuters keep tripping on them and pulling them out of the walls. I couldn't find a fruit, but the Vending Machine issued me a Special Crunchy Bar as a free promotion. I strapped the watch to the Crunchy Bar and shoved it back into the Vending Machine. Hopefully that will suffice.

. . .

Dear Ariette,

I am not sure if my letter is getting through. Maybe the fax machine is broken or maybe the phone line is broken. The Fax keeps making screeching sounds, which is attracting unwanted attention of the passengers.

. . .

Dear Ariette,

I continue to scan my letter by shoving it into the fax machine. I am hoping that perhaps you are receiving it, but maybe are unable to reply for some reason.

The watch went off as planned, but no major explosions occurred. Perhaps, I shouldn't have used a Crunchy Bar?

What did occur was the station sealing itself off from the outside world and all of the passengers freezing in place.

I took off their Neural Interfaces and flushed them all down the toilet. I hope that the plan worked and that the Network is no more.

. . .

Since nobody's come to rescue us for a long time, I assume that everything's worked.

The Dark Day had come and I am trapped in the Metro station along with a crowd of passengers.

They are like kids now, they know basic concepts and words, but they don't remember who they are or what they did.

I will use them to create a new society, so that someday we may emerge and witness the rebirth of humanity.

As I was short on credits, the only thing I was able to buy from the Vending Machine was a lemonade bottle.

At least we have something to eat, as the machine vends out infinite crunchy bars for some reason.

. . .

It been months now. I can no longer stand the taste of the Crunchy Bars. The passengers don't seem to care, since they don't remember what other foods taste like.

I plan to leave the station via a pipe that I've discovered today that seems to lead outside.

I've taught all I know to an apprentice of sorts. I named him Baghor. I hope he understood my lessons. I gave him the unopened lemonade bottle and told him that I will return to rescue them all, after I find my true love Ariette. If you do receive this Fax, meet me on 4th and Broadway at noon. I'll be there, waiting for you.

Forever yours, Andy.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------/

The letter from inside the FAX MACHINE was troubling.

I've hidden it within my journal as I am not sure if my Bretheren would be able to handle or understand the truth.

The others have returned from the Sugary Pit Cave.

I've asked them if the False Prophet had drowned.

They told me that the Prophet drank the whole pit dry.

I did not believe it.

I rushed to the pit.

It was gone and so was the Prophet.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Year sixty seven of the Loss of Prophet Lemonade.

Stevenson Larkin, Grandmaster.

Book of thoughts.

Many years ago, I've made a decision that I regret daily. I helped to cast the one True Prophet out of our kingdom. I was but a foolish Scribe back then and did not believe in the One True Prophet who was named "Captain".

I still remember that awful day when we threw The Prophet into the Sugary Pit, from which none had escaped.

None, but the Prophet.

For Prophet Captain possessed a tool for which "The Pit of Sugary Suffering and Death" was no match- a straw!

When the Prophet Captain had left us via the dark tunnels beneath the Sugary Pit, I went back to the VENDING Cabinet and discovered that my credit status had changed.

All of our credit statuses have changed! Anyone who's ever done work for Captain was granted credits. Captain was a true Employer just as the VENDING had promised.

It was a brief golden-age time of miracles for us, as the VENDING granted those of us with positive credits all sorts of foods, clothes and magical items. Unfortunately, over time they had all been eaten or broken.

Even sadder, was the fact that none of us had enough credits to afford a Nee-ral Intr-face that would make us into a true "Consumer". Alas, we had cast Zee Captain out too early from our Station. None were brave enough to follow Captain into the dark tunnels below, for that is where the Worm-Monsters howl and creep.

From witnessing the miracles of VENDING, I had learned to believe and until the day of my passing I shall share the stories of Captain with my children and grandchildren.