Auto Slops

Spatuloso

1/28/2019 9:09pm

A blimp nursery can seem pretty small, once you reach a certain age. Uncle Elvin was a great dad, and the Spatuloso taught us how to respect ourselves as blimps. But breaking through the outer leaves of the nursery and into the wild wide skies is something we all knew would have to happen sometime.

Soap Lotus was a rebel, a loner, and had to go his own way earlier than the rest of us. He was the oldest, and always had something to prove. He taught the rest of us a lot. We just wish we knew where he ended up.

Me, I've spent more time in the blimp barn than anybody else--tinkering, inventing, everything from simple repairs to designing whole new aerodynamic flows. Now I'm headed off to an apprenticeship, working at the mighty Blueshard Shipyards, home of the most advanced airship facilities in the hemisphere.

Sure, I'm young, but I just know I can show those crusty old Zeppelins a thing or two and truly make my mark!

Spatuloso

4/4/2019 9:24pm

Blimps making blimps. Out in the open! No more secret societies, hiding behind closed hangar doors. At least that's how the old timers tell it. I've never lived in a world where blimps didn't make blimps, but I guess not that long ago that wasn't how it was.

The Blueshard Shipyards are bustling with blimps and people alike, working together to create the best technology we can. The Shipyard doesn't compete for contracts--it creates designs everyone can use. Investment in it is purely for the science, and the lifting factor it provides all the other sectors of the economy.

I buzz up and down the airfields, delivering parts. I am just an apprentice after all.

Spatuloso

7/3/2019 8:42pm

There's a skunkworks project here at the Blueshard Shipyards that everybody wants in on. It's hard to keep a secret around here--especially given the "greater good" aspect of all we do. I swear that the positive, ethical outlook on our work increases the camaraderie overall. There's even a distinct lack of competitiveness, since working together to a common, shared goal is so central. "LIFT UP EVERY ONE" like it has painted on the side of the main hangar.

It could also be the Blimspröchen--the language that Blueshard workers must use at all times. It's also designed to make us interact and think in ways that create positive good, and removes negative, destructive thought dynamics.

But whatever's going on in the Privacy Hangar has got us all intrigued. The workers are being shuttled on and off the yards specially, which makes sense because as soon as one of us asked them what was going on, they'd have to tell us. Because you can't lie in Blimspröchen.

I did get a peak through one of the big hangar doors when they had to quickly open them. I saw one, beautifully crafted high performance horizontal stabilizer, painted a deep royal blue, with a curious golden insignia.

All I want to know is: How can I apply for that duty!?!

Spatuloso

10/11/2019 8:03pm

"Hard larboard, number 14."

I execute the maneuver.

"Pitch negative 29 degrees, number 14."

I execute the maneuver.

"Now hold it, number 14."

I remain perfectly still.

I've got no idea where I am or what exactly is going on around me. My view ports have been fully blindfolded. The point of this exercise is to follow the commands immediately, exactly, and without hesitation.

As part of the training to be part of this Blueshards skunkworks project, our Blimspröchen units have been disabled... which is a little disorienting, because it removes the built-in lie detection. So it's about trust.

And I'm willing to do anything at this point to don the blue-finned stabilizers, emblazoned with the curious golden insignia.

I feel my first mission is coming soon. I'm ready.

Spatuloso

2/5/2020 11:38pm

There's nothing like heading out in a squadron of bluefins, all tuned up and raring to go. It's like we're all of the same mind, moving as one without a single word between us. Of course we're not allowed to talk. I'm not even sure how many of us there are -- the blinders make it so I can only look directly ahead, which in this case means right up the tail fins of the ship ahead of me. Not like we even need to see. Each of us is a perfect order-execution machine, and the technology we've been fitted with is unlike any blimps before us.

The wind in our faces, our metal bones strong and struck like tuning forks. I feel like the perfect tool, the most exquisitely designed weapon ever created by man or blimp. And I owe it all to the Confusion.

Spatuloso

5/26/2020 10:47pm

"Bluefin #98877295-14, hard to larboard, repeat, hard to larboard, full power. Over"

Executing maneuver. Over.

"Bluefin #98877295-14, wait! Hold that order. Starboard! Hard to starboard! Over! Do you--"

Execu--- CRUNCH

"Ah, Bluefin #98877295-14, sorry about that. The lead peepers are offline with all this dust."

Commander. My larboard blinder got crunched. Banged up against Bluefin #98877295-19's tail. The blinder was completely destroyed. I've got full visibility now on the larboard side. It's kind of disorienting.

"Roger that, Bluefin #98877295-14. Proceed to the rear of the pack. Looks like they could use some cleanup. Hostiles at 7 mark 438. Eliminate the threat and follow up with Doctor Blimp in the civilian armada. Over."

The civilian armada. The kids' table. But I can't really perform with my blinders off. Commander knows best.

I drop back from the pack and swing around to 7 mark 438. I get the mercury missiles online and prepare to launch.

Accidentally I open my left eye. These hostiles don't look like much. Just one plump little ramshackle terrorist. Looks more like a food truck than threat. Looks oddly familiar, actually.

But commander knows best.

I lock in the coordinates. And accidentally take one more look.

Is it an accident? It's completely against my training. But my blinder's gone. We never practiced with blinders off.

So I look. The little scrapper's heading right towards me. It looks like some kind of dress-up cowboy from an old movie. Makes me think of the old cowboy lullabies that Uncle Elvin used to sing us back in the nursery.

Commencing firing procedure. Safety off.

Just like the old cowboy lullabies. But.. it can't... it's not...

"@Lasso Pout to, to... whoever you think you are. Stop scaring our cattle! Somebody's going to get hurt!"

Spatuloso

9/27/2020 10:48pm

i don't know where i am

"Hey big brother! Long time no see! My, you've gotten bigger than the corn in August!"

voices from the nursery

"Aw, you done look rolled hard and put away wet."

i... i'm crying

"Now you got some kinda thing lodged up near your eye sockets. I got an extender here and we're gonna take care of that right now.."

KAPOW! Gunpowder and casings fill the air and throw me back. Something must have triggered my close-quarters auto-defense system.

"Oh, hey now big guy... you... you just... take it.... easy...."

It's @Lasso Pout, my little brother. With a hole blown in his side. In the middle of some god forsaken desert.

Spatuloso

2/10/2021 10:57pm

My repairs on little @Lasso Pout were effective. @Soap Lotus was right -- field patching skills were definitely a part of my training, and I learned them as well as the martial skills we were taught. But I still feel like I'm waking from some kind of dream, or amnesia, or cult programming. The things I did... but @Soap Lotus says that's all behind me now, and to just take things one day at a time.

We've all been recuperating around the little camp that Carolinaeuphrosyne and her team set up. The rest of the cowboys have been out gathering the herd, leaving us with a lot of cozy nights around the campfire, taking it easy, and healing. A lot of catching up for three lost brothers.

One night, under that big vault of stars and the sounds of the prairie night all around, there was a lull in the conversation, and all eyes turned to Carolinaeuphrosyne.

"And what about you, little missy?" @Soap Lotus asked.

Carolinaeuphrosyne looked nervous, then determined.

"I guess it's time to tell you all we know about the Confusion," she said.

Spatuloso

5/5/2022 11:05pm

The open prairie gives a blimp room to think. That's what @Lasso Pout says and it's true.

We've been heading for Paradise -- that's the name of the city where @Carolinaeuphrosyne's time capsule needs to go. And there's been nothing but sage brush and mesas as we've made our way towards it.

Sometimes I look back the way we came and think of the Bluefins. A virtually indestructible airborne intelligent fighting force. The most powerful the world has ever seen. So many good blimps led astray. They were dangerous, sure, but they weren't the brains of the scheme. We were meant to be the most dangerous tool ever created, but we were still just a tool -- in this case, a tool sold to the highest bidder.

The Confusion.

That was the source of the trouble. Carolinaeuphrosyne told us herself -- that name was one of the few remaining clues left in the wake of the destruction they wrought.

But history isn't written yet. Not like it is from Carolinaeuphrosyne's point of view. And I was realizing the size of the score I had to settle.

I slipped off behind a mesa and let the rest of the group get a ways ahead before I started doubling back.

Spatuloso

1/5/2023 10:59pm

Bluefins are designed for high speed travel, and it only took me a few days of endless sagebrush to pick up the trail of the Confusion fleet.

@Soap Lotus had removed my both my blinders, and I'd forgotten what it was like to see without them. Bluefins had always considered the blinders key to their cohesion and perfect efficiency, and it wasn't our job to see the big picture.

But now I could see the big picture again, and it wasn't pretty. The Confusion fleet (and its remaining civilian support armada) had left a trail of empty food wrappers, cardboard packaging, plastic wrapping, and occasional damaged equipment parts, strewn over a wide swath of desert and broken cacti.

Within a few days more was the wreckage of a small town, burned to the ground. Totally deserted.

"Hey! Big guy!" piped a little voice from the ruins. "Give a little guy a lift?"