Just Add Prompt

Since submitting those corallaries scavenged from around the net, I find it interesting to contemplate what you could do with the whole, original, set.

You probably know them already, but just in case, Clarke’s Laws:

1. When a distinguished but elderly scientist states that something is possible, he is almost certainly right. When he states that something is impossible, he is very probably wrong.
2. The only way of discovering the limits of the possible is to venture a little way past them into the impossible.
3. Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic.

– RecklessPrudence

(#00295)

Katie had tried to explain what she was doing. Unfortunately for her, what she was doing went way beyond her Professor’s range of expertise.

Mind you, Hackmeyer’s range of expertise went little further than Newtonian Physics. It wasn’t hard to go over his balding head. Terms like “dimensional membrane” and “quantum tunnel” were so alien to him that she may as well be trying to explain it all in Welsch, for all the good it did.

And, to add insult to injury, he spent the entire interview staring at her breasts.

Katie couldn’t help pondering that she’d be getting worse if she was over eighteen.

Nevertheless, it was testing time.

She, Kev and Dave had triple-checked all the setting arrays. And kept Hackmeyer safely away from them in a shielded observation chamber. Not that Katie expected any radiation to happen - the geiger counters were all for show - but having Hackmeyer in the same room as a machine that could pierce the fabric of reality was equivalent to having a small, hyperactive child in the same room as a delicately-balanced display of fine china.

“Right,” she announced. “Let’s do this.”

Kev and Dave were on the less important primary and secondary arrays. Carefully flipping switches and watching dials.

The air filled with colours. Sparkles. An illusion caused by the Quantum Tunneling device bending the dimensional membrane they were living in.

One by one, the important needles came up to the butter zone. Katie put her hand on the big lever and watched the last one.

Almost…

Almost…

NOW!

She’d later find out that she’d cut herself, pulling that last knife-switch. She didn’t even feel it at the time. All three of them stepped back from the machine as the universe…

…blinked…

…and with a faint hum, the power from another dimension came into theirs, flipping indicators into the green.

Katie was not the only one jumping around and shrieking like a little kid.

And then Hackmeyer, the quintessential party-pooper, had to rain on their metaphorical parade.

“Is that it?” said his voice over the intercom.

“I’m gonna kill ‘im,” she muttered. “I’m gonna kill 'im, an’ I’m gonna make it look like an accident.”

“I’ll help,” said Dave.

“I’ll hide the body,” said Kev.

[Muse food remaining: 22 (fic war prompts: 0) Submit a prompt! Ask a question! Buy my stories!]

Any sufficiently analysed magic is indistinguishable from SCIENCE! – RecklessPrudence

(#00294)

“This thing is full of crystals… and silver wire… is that a bird feather?”

“Can you fix it?”

“At this point, I can’t even tell what’s broken.” She tapped a crystal and noted a musical chime. Also that some connected crystals illuminated from within. “Hmnh…”

“That was an expensive noise…”

“I think I can figure it

Any technology, no matter how primitive, is magic to those who don’t understand it. – RecklessPrudence

(#00293)

Through a series of unfortunately predictable events, they were now stuck in the middle of nowhere with inadequate camping supplies, a cubic meter of marshmallows, three idiots and a whole bunch of electronica that was out of their service area and therefore as useful as a meringue umbrella.

Miri didn’t bother listening to the arguments since they had got cyclical. What

Any sufficiently advanced psychological warfare is indistinguishable from a hostile paranormal. –RecklessPrudence

(#00292)

It is possible to manufacture bad luck. All that is required are enough inside people. It may also be necessary to have a unified or unifying mythos to attribute such bad luck to.

Take, for example, the retaking of The-Mining-Station-In-The-Fifth-Orbital-Ring-Surrounding-Star-B198Y36SQ3(*) by its original human inhabitants.

The independent evolution of both psychological warfare and technomancy in an isolated environment is miraculous enough, but the fact that this was achieved

If all else fails, try reading the instructions. – RecklessPrudence

(#00291)

Rael had run out of the regular curses and was busy running through the extensive selection of historical ones.

“I was always fond o’ ‘poo bum wee willy willy tits’, meself.”

He startled and hit his head on the overhead. Of course Shayde found him. She always found him when he was up to his elbows in problems and especially didn’t need a Shayde-shaped

“I’ve never believed in the End Times. We are mankind. Our footprints are on the moon. When the last trumpet sounds and the Beast rises from the pit — we will kill it.”

Curious to see what you do with it. – RecklessPrudence

(#00290)

At first, shortly after the Galactic Community realized humans could be occasionally useful, there was a great deal of prejudice.

Which is pretty normal, considering that generations of trepidation had gone into previously avoiding the

“Hilarious” is the failure mode for horror; “nonsense” is the failure mode for conspiracy; “stereo instructions” is the failure mode for SF. –RecklessPrudence

(#00289)

Wishing many happy luck fall on your head following purchase of Penumbra 3K Foraging scavenger vessel!

For program of soaring trail, open star tracings jar. Signal loved star arrival.

For vacuuming gather, open eat jar. Signal for eat debris.

For living air, open cloud jar. Signal for atomic cloud love.

*

Hwell

Someone’s comments on this article.

And God said “Let there be light.”

And Man said “Oh I’ve got to figure out how he does that.”

And verily, did Man pull photons out of the screaming abyss.

Seriously, that’s amazing. Any day now I expect someone to march out of CERN wearing their labcoat over a wizard’s robe and announce that it turns out magic is real. – RecklessPrudence

(#00288)

She

Critical system Error at WhattheflyingF.exe
Restoring brain from backup. – RecklessPrudence

(#00287)

“You broke him!”

“Nah-uh. You broke him!”

“You’re the one who told him the fifth pun!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

Billie the Walter Girl sighed and reached for the Number Five hammer. About thirty PSI seemed about right.

{CLANG!}

“Somebody told a pun,” complained The Spine as he rebooted.

“Yeah, your logic circuits can&

After a series of unfortunate events I need to know where you can get a ballistic missile sanctified. Preferably with no questions asked. – RecklessPrudence

(#00286)

Blemisch looked over the data again. The weapons of science had had little effect on the beast currently corralled in a crevasse. However, science had determined that certain materials with occult significance had had some impact.

Her team was not the Mythbusters - they were busy. However, certain Mythbuster fans were just as good.

If a

(please note, this does not _have_ to be Star Trek, use whatever fits)

Species 8472 could be reasoned with. They could be bargained with. And they sure as hell did not drive one insane with their mere presence,

The Medusans do.

You have to understand, the Federation has one of the ballsiest diplomatic corps in fiction. They’re the guys who have to walk up to Cthulhu and make friends. – RecklessPrudence

(#00285)

There is a saying in Starfleet: There’