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Brawnfire
Jul 13, 2004

🎧Listen to Cylindricule!🎵
https://linktr.ee/Cylindricule

I have never participated in one of these, but I am a bit curious to do so. Is there something more entry-level, or can I get in?

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Brawnfire
Jul 13, 2004

🎧Listen to Cylindricule!🎵
https://linktr.ee/Cylindricule

In that case, I am IN for a trouncing.

Brawnfire
Jul 13, 2004

🎧Listen to Cylindricule!🎵
https://linktr.ee/Cylindricule

Crit crat, no problem with that, always happy to keep improving.

Brawnfire
Jul 13, 2004

🎧Listen to Cylindricule!🎵
https://linktr.ee/Cylindricule

Extraction
600 words

Akosua licks her lips. They're parched with anticipation. Her eyes trace the circumference of the portal. It’s not much wider than herself; the passage reveals nothing of what lies beyond. A painfully bright light is all she sees.

There’s not much point in contemplating what may lie beyond at this point, though. Akosua knows someone must go beyond its threshold and explore, for that is the human story. Akosua knows it is she who must go, for that is her story.

The laboratory walls fall away; Akosua is a little girl, in agony, moaning upon a kente cloth spread upon the ground. Her sisters, aunts and mother surround her in a comforting knot, murmuring and administering to her as pain shudders her frame.

At Akosua’s feet, the doctor shows one of the younger girls how to slowly and carefully turn the stick, around which winds the source of Akosua’s agony: a Guinea worm, its vile head protruding from the vermillion blister on her dark, young flesh.

It will take time, says the doctor, passing her task off to her trainee; it will take patience, and it will hurt. She had given Akosua some ibuprofen, but says she can’t give her much else that’s stronger. You’re a brave girl. You’ll make it through to the other side of this just fine. “An indomitable spirit”, agrees Akosua’s aunt.

The strong memory grudgingly releases its hold on Akosua’s internal vision. From that little village with its crowded homes and disease-afflicted water, she is again transported back to the gleaming laboratory, lit wanly by the eerie glimmering portal. She is Akosua Gyasi, the most famous Ghanaian astronaut, first African woman on the moon, and possibly the first human being--woman, Ghanaian, African, anything--to journey beyond the small sphere of Earth’s immediate neighborhood.

“We’ve come a long way, haven’t we, Commander?” remarks Clark, the systems operator from behind his monitor. Clearly, he’d noticed her preoccupation.

“Some of us further than others.” she rejoins.

“The thought of what must be through there, it’s overwhelming.” Clark says, clearly excited. “To think that all our human struggle--all the wars, the famine, the pollution, the near destruction of our biosphere--may finally be at an end?”

Akosua grins a wry, lopsided grin. “What does that mean for us?” she asks. “What if the wars, the famine, the pollution, the struggle, were all that being human ever was?”

“We’re more than a destructive pestilence, Commander. We’re not content to squirm around in our muck and mire, poisoning our home with our poo poo. See?” he gestures to the portal, “we’re raising our heads to see beyond the stars themselves, Gyasi.” He smiles at her, flushed with anticipation. “Are you ready?”

“I’m about to leave the only home I’ve ever known.” She breathes in deeply. “Wish me luck.”

She approaches the portal, step by steady step. With trepidation, she slowly eases her head and shoulders through the portal.

Instantly she feels a pull, as if gravity itself has become a pair of fingers to draw her through the portal.

“Here we have it.” says the doctor, pleased with herself. “The creature's head has been secured. It will be painful and it will take time, but we can begin drawing it out now.”

The woman smiles through her discomfort; her family embraces her and pats her back supportively. “You’re brave.” “You’ll come through this.” “An indomitable spirit.”

“Before you know it,” the doctor adds, “you’ll have no more of this pesky infestation to worry about.”

“Thank you, doctor. I thought they’d kill me.”

“Don’t mention it, Gaia.”

Brawnfire fucked around with this message at 01:15 on Feb 1, 2020

Brawnfire
Jul 13, 2004

🎧Listen to Cylindricule!🎵
https://linktr.ee/Cylindricule

I just realized I disqualified myself.

Welp. Maybe next time.

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