Silence. Dead silence. Never is there more activity anywhere, than when it is silent, generally because of the large amount of excess activities persued in order to keep the primary one quiet. Silence is, perhaps, the greatest attention-getting ploy available. Armed with this knowledge, a sudden cacophany of noise was generated from seemingly nowhere at all. No one investigated the noise, of course, because if
they (Those involved) weren't going to go to all the trouble of masking it, then
they (Those not involved) weren't going to got to all the trouble of un-masking it. It was genius. Pure genius.
Deep below, giant machinations and belows pumped into furnaces and tubes which connected in seemingly intangible ways to yet other feats of industrial imagination. Unidentifiable fluids circulated through machines the sun was never meant to shine on. Finally, all finished in a bizarre, steampunkian contraption, which dripped a reddish liquid. Said liquid was collected in an orblike glass incased in a cage-like holder. Once the flow ended, someone closed the jar.
"Ahh, perfection. No mortal or god has ever seen the likes of this, nor ever will again."
Footsteps faded away. Another voice broke in.
"Now then, all we need to do is refine it. Yes, that will suffice."
There was a crash.
"Err...hmmm. Now where is the janitorial staff?"
There was a moment's pause, interupted by constant hissings and oozings.
"...And where in Odd's name is the floor going?"
***
It was dawn in the jungle. Time for life to continue moving again. A young paramite step out from it's hive. It had never been alone before. The world was sooo big! It pranced a little along the floor, then began sniffing around.
Ah, the adventure. It's primative musings were interupted by a whizzing sound, followed by a thumb in the sand, which captured it's attention. The creature scattled over to this new curiousity, and began to examine it, as only an animal can.
What is it? Oh! Cold! Very cold! But smooth. Ah, sooo smooth. Feels nice. A smooth rock! Who would have guessed it? And perfectly round too! This...is the best rock EVER! I should bring it back to my friends! Wait...what's that sound it's making so fast...and faster...and faster...and fas-
The explosion, needless to say, sparked everyone's attention. Particularly those of a nearby Slig, and I am not talking about Virgil. "Bullseye! Bwhaha!" There was a mechanical hum, and a flying Slig swooped into the scene. Who knew a career in freelance scouting could be so self-fufulling? He zipped past the wreckage, loading up another grenade in hopes of more quary.
He found Virgil. Propped up in his make-shift wheel chair, the Slig was fast asleep. It occured to the flying Slig how inexplicably odd it was to see another Slig in the middle of all this, ugh,
nature. It then occured to him that he should probably either stop his course or watch where he was going. And then...nothing occured to him ever again. The second explosion, so soon after the first, was seen by the inhabitants of the jungle as nothing more than a lame cash-in on the first, and no where near the fine quality and tragic drama of the original (Besides, it wasn't so much of an explosion as it was a..."Splat"). Virgil, however, thought differently...but then most would, finding a charred wreckage of a flying machine all over their nicely-trimmed lawn.
To Be Continued...