View Full Version : Science Fiction?

11-12-2010, 05:30 PM
Narrator: MX-301. A space station in orbit around Ursa Major. On board….

Gypsy: Excuse me.

Narrator: What? I’m narrating here!

Gypsy: I may only be a humble space-gypsy, but even I know you can’t orbit Ursa Major. It’s a constellation, not a star!

Narrator: It could be a very large orbit.

Gypsy: A very large orbit? The stars are light years apart! They only appear close when viewed from Earth!

Narrator: Fine. MX-301. A space station in orbit around a planet in a star system that would appear to be in the constellation of Ursa Major if viewed from Earth. Happy?

Gypsy: Ursa-Major as seen in the 21st century, or Ursa Major in whatever era this is taking place in? Stars move you know.

Narrator: Gah! Go away!

Narrator 2: MX-301. A space station in orbit around….

Narrator: Hey! What are you doing?

Narrator 2: Narrating. Doing your job, since you aren’t doing it.

Narrator: I was interrupted by a pedantic idiot!

Gypsy: Who are you calling an idiot?

Narrator: You, you idiot!

Narrator 2: Look, the producers thought this wasn’t going anywhere, so they sent me in.

Gypsy: Well, it still isn’t going anywhere.

Narrator: That’s your fault!

Gypsy: Is not!

Narrator: Is too!

Narrator 2: Is not! It’s your fault!

Gypsy: Is too…. Wait, I’m confused.

Narrator 3: Suddenly they were all sucked into a black hole!

Others: What? No! Ahhhhhhhh….

Black Hole: Burp!

Narrator 3: Satiated, the black hole disappeared from the known universe.

Black Hole: Poof!

Narrator 3: Now we can get on with this play. On board space station MX-301….

FX: Crickets chirping.

Narrator 3: Um… hello?

FX: Wind.

Narrator 3: Anyone? Wait… what’s this note? “Got bored waiting for play to start. Left.” Oh great. That’s just great. Now what? I give up. Someone else can deal with this (muttering) I don’t know… (mumble mumble mumble)

Critic 1: Not very science fictiony is it?

Critic 2: I agree. For something that’s supposed to be science fiction, this lacks that futurey feel.

Elderly Critic: When I was young, you were lucky if your science fiction contained a ray-gun, let alone a space station! And we had to teleport uphill! Both ways! In a neutron storm!

Critic 1: When you were young, science fiction was about predicting the invention of the wheel!

Elderly Critic: Well I never! I’ll have you know that… ARRRGGGH!

Critic 2: Oh, He’s dead.

FX: Tinkering noises.

Critic 2: And look! Turns out he was a robot all along!

Critic 1: A curmudgeonly elder robot? Is there a market for those?

Critic 2: Beats me. It’s still depressing when the critics are more science-fictiony than the thing they’re criticizing.

Critic 1: I vote we go criticize Star Trek.

Critic 2: OK.

FX: Wooshing noises. Clanking and rumbling in the background.

Fred: …Look, all I’m saying is that this play doesn’t seem very science-fictiony.

Zanthar: How can you say that? We’re fixing a hyperdrive here!

Fred: Yes, but… (sound of hitting metal with a hammer) The thing is… I mean… I don’t want to sound prejudiced, Zanthar, but….

Zanthar: But what?

Fred: Well… You’re an elf.

Zanthar: So?

Fred: Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against elves, and I like you, but…

Zanthar: You think elves can’t be in science fiction.

Fred: Yes! Exactly! I mean, doesn’t the fact that you’re here make this fantasy?

Zanthar: You think I should be prancing around in a forest, singing to squirrels?

Fred: No, no!

Zanthar: You think because I have pointy ears I should be in some medieval technology level, oh-look-the-best-weapon-I-have-is-a-bow-let’s-dance-around-the-maypole type play?

Fred: No, not at all… Wait, what’s a maypole?

Zanthar: That doesn’t matter! Look, Spock had pointy ears….

Fred: Yeah, but Spock was a Vulcan.

Zanthar: So what? Look, forget about it. Let’s just get this drive fixed. Pass me the hydrospanner.

Fred: Well, that’s the other thing.

Zanthar: What now? Did you lose the hydrospanner?

Fred: No, nothing to do with the hydrospanner.

Zanthar: Well what then? Spit it out!

Fred: Well, you know the black box… The one in the middle of the hyperdrive.

Zanthar: You mean the one with all the wires coming out? The one that says “No user-serviceable parts! Do not open this box ever! We mean it! You will die horribly! (Warning: Dying horribly may void your warranty.)” on it?

Fred: Yes….

Zanthar: You opened it, didn’t you.

Fred: Umm… yes. But I didn’t die horribly!

Zanthar: Sometimes I wish you had.

Fred: Thanks a lot!

Zanthar: Only kidding. I think. What was in there then, if it wasn’t horribly deadly?

Fred: You’re not going to believe me.

Zanthar: Just tell me.

Fred: No, you’re really not going to believe me. Not with your insistence that this is a science fiction play.

Zanthar: I promise I’ll believe you. Really. Now what was in the box?

Fred: Pixies.

Zanthar: Pixies.

Fred: Yup. Fourteen pixies. I counted them. It was quite difficult. They were flitting around a lot.

Zanthar: I don’t believe you.

Fred: See! I told you you wouldn’t!

Zanthar: Really pixies?

Fred: Yes! Open the box yourself if you don’t believe me!

Zanthar: Okay, I will.

FX: Tool sounds, hammering, sawing, clanking, a cat yowling, squeaking, sound of a door creaking open.

Zanthar: Pixies. There are pixies in the box.

Fred: Hah!

Zanthar: So our high-tech, advanced-science hyperdrive is powered by pixies!?

Fred: Now you know why I doubted the science-fictioniness of the play!

Zanthar: But this is ridiculous. This can’t possibly be right. We go to other planets. Yesterday we flew past a black hole! Granted, the black hole seemed to be suffering from indigestion and moaning a bit, but… Pixies? How is this possible?

Fred: I guess we could ask the pixies.

Zanthar: That’s a great idea! Hey pixies!

Pixies (all at once): Hi! Hello! Greetings! What’s up? Salutations!

Head Pixie: Shut up you lot! Whaddaya want? Didn’t you read the sign? We’re working here!

Zanthar: You power the hyperdrive?

Head Pixie: What? No, that’s silly!

Fred: Well what powers the drive then?

Pixies (all at once): Quantum entanglement! Technobabble! Two dissimilar metals joined at both ends! Bugbears! Static electricity! Dynamic electricity! Nikolai Tesla!

Head Pixie: Quiet all of you! We have absolutely no idea.

Zanthar: Well what IS your job then?

Head Pixie: Well obviously we’re here to distract the laws of physics!

Zanthar: Um… what?

Head Pixie: What are you, stupid? Look, it was proven way back in the 21st century that the laws of physics make faster-than-light travel impossible. So for the hyperdrive to do whatever it is it does to make us actually travel faster than light, the laws of physics have to be distracted! That way they don’t notice us moving way the heck faster than we should be going.

Fred: But that’s ridiculous, the laws of physics are inviolable!

Head Pixie: Shhhhh… don’t tell them that! They don’t know!

Zanthar: Right, well, I think we’ll just let you get back to whatever it is you do.

Pixies (all at once): Bye! See ya! Adios! Don’t be a stranger!

Head Pixie: Shut up! Back to work!

FX: Sound of door slamming shut and locking.

Fred: That was odd. Doesn’t help us fix this drive though.

Zanthar: (grunting): Oh. It was unplugged.

Fred: What? You didn’t check that first?

Zanthar: At least I wasn’t hammering randomly on the casing.

Fred: Um, yeah. I hope the drive still works.

Zanthar: Well, there’s one way to find out…

Narrator 3: And so Zanthar called the bridge and told them to test the hyperdrive! Little did they know that….

Zanthar and Fred (surprised): Ahhh! What the hell? Who the heck are you?

Narrator 3: I’m the narrator! I had a heck of a time tracking you guys down after you left the space station! I was going to give up, but then I realized I wouldn’t get paid.

Fred: What space station?

Zanthar: We haven’t been on a space station in months.

Narrator 3: Oh nuts! I thought I had found the main characters. Although, now I look at you guys, it’s pretty obvious this is some other play. Probably a fantasy play.

Zanthar: No, no, this is science fiction!

Narrator 3: But you’re an elf.

Zanthar: We’re in space! That’s a hyperdrive! This is science fiction! Gah!

Narrator 3: Okay, okay. Clearly I hit a sore spot. If this is science fiction, do you need a narrator? I’m very good. Really!

Fred: I don’t think so. We were doing fine without a narrator.

Narrator 3: Let me give you a sample. “And so the hyperdrive was fixed, but little did they know that…”

Zanthar: NO! Just go away!

Narrator 3: Fine, but you’ll regret it. Foreshadowing is useful you know.

Zanthar: GO!

Narrator 3: And so the narrator left the ungrateful elf and his companion of indeterminate species…

Fred: Indeterminate species? I’m human! Don’t I look human?

Zanthar: You’re human? I thought you were an unusually tall dwarf!

Fred: Dwarves aren’t six foot two!

Zanthar: Yeah, but you are rather hairy. Your beard is gigantic. And you’re wearing a metal helmet.

Fred: Okay, okay, I admit it. I’m one eighth dwarf, on my mother’s side. Happy?

Zanthar: And the helmet?

Fred: It was my great-grandmother’s. She was wearing it when she stormed the ice-moon of Throg during the great dwarf uprising of ought eight. It holds great sentimental value. It gives me hope that some day, I too might indiscriminately kill thousands of enemies on the battlefield and die a glorious death!

Zanthar: Really?

Fred: No of course not! My great-grandmother died of complications stemming from a paper cut. I’m fully human! I found the helmet in a locker over there.

FX: Alarms, rumbling.

Zanthar: What’s happening? Bridge!

Bridge (over radio): Yes?

Zanthar: What going on? What’s the alarm for?

Bridge: Well, I have good news and bad news.

Fred: What’s the good news?

Bridge: The good news is that you guys fixed the hyperdrive.

Zanthar: And the bad news?

Bridge: I may have inadvertently steered us into a planet.

Zanthar: What!? What planet?

Bridge: It’s only a little planet.

Fred: How little?

Bridge: Well, it’s getting bigger. Rather quickly.

Zanthar: You mean we’re crashing?

Bridge: Umm… yes. Yes. Crashing. You might want to brace yourselves.

FX: Rumbling, alarms, whooshing.

Zanthar and Fred: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

FX: Silence.

Zanthar and Fred: Ahhhh…?

Zanthar: Nothing happened.

Fred: Bridge, why did nothing happen?

Bridge: We ran out of effects budget.

Zanthar: You mean there wasn’t enough money left to let us crash?

Bridge: Seems that way.

Fred: What a stroke of luck.

Zanthar: Whoops, everything’s fading to black.

Fred: There go the credits. “Zanthar as himself”. Hey, your name really is Zanthar?

Zanthar: Yeah. Hey apparently your name is Susan. Funny, you don’t look like a Susan.

Fred: Haha. That’s the sound technician, you idiot.

Zanthar: We never did find out if this play was actually science fiction.

Fred: I still say it was fantasy.

Zanthar: Well, it’s irrelevant now. There go the special effects credits. Directors… Producers….

Narrator 3: I found them! I found the main characters! They’re three light-years core-wards! Am I too late?

Deep Voice: THE END

Narrator 3: Oh.

11-13-2010, 02:14 AM
I always did love a good fantasy story. Two thumbs up.

11-13-2010, 07:51 AM
Who was whose love interest in this piece? Without such an angle, Hollywood will never pick it up. Or they will very seriously bollocks it up in order to add a love interest somewhere.

11-13-2010, 09:07 AM
Pixie 7 was deeply in love with Pixie 12. Wasn't that obvious?