{Long gone are those that can't live forever, long gone are those who's flesh hath rotten away, long gone are those who's bones become dust, long gone are those who's burial site is forgetten even in the most abstract placement, long gone are those who's burial site is destroyed and lineage ended fully, long gone are those who's memory are finally not retold... and long gone are those who returned their body back to the Earth and their utterings a mere empty cacophony in a heartless World. My post has a totally unrelated 50-word tasker and an entry to @tygertyger's Electric Dreams contest. Both are clearly demarcated and both are being posted here in that order... Today's music-aides: "The World Revolving / Jevil's Theme kazoo remix" [1.] "Rude Buster lofi remix" [2.] and "Hip Shop" [3.] (Deltarune OST).}

- Childish mistake -

"Bris! Bris, my child, are you alright?"

"Yeah Grandma?"

"I'll just come in Bris."

"No-"

"Bris, I just- ouch."

"I told you-"

"No! It's perfectly natural. The same happened to me in your age."

"Whatcha mean, Grandma?"

"Let's get that wound patched; I see another were-squirrel in my line. Woohoo~"

My sketchy sketch of some Bioshock-inspired diner

- Two-hundred years and counting -

Heels punting against the constantly annoyed tile floor. Then they click together and the tiles sigh, so soon a cup of sizzling tea announces its landing on the marble table.

"Thank you, waitress."

"Is that all, Doctor?"

"All for now, I'll call you in a jiffy if i need anything else."

With that, the tile floors began their annoyed yelps as the heels strike at them in rapid succession. Off to the distance, a door strikes and makes the door bells jingle in pain. Now boots join in with the collective torment of the tiles, and the tiles produce louder yelps with each boot strike. Yet the boots directs the new comer to see the jukebox and they click loudly that some diner patrons turn around before going back to munching on their brunch.

"Well, well. A jukebox, I never thought I see one in my life. Let's see if this beauty still works... Okay, just slot in the dime and... presto!"

[1.]

Soon, with a shift from Christmas tracks spouting off the jukebox's speakers came a jazzy and kazoo remix of some song that was on the new comer's tongue. Hearing some grunts and some cheers, the new comer decided to waste their efforts in the original task. The tiles ready for the smooth and quiet marching still yelped with each strike on it, but soon the new comer arrived at the table of the Doctor.

"Sorry Ms, but are yah the Doctor?"

"Why yes I am, please sit down."

"Many thanks on that."

"So who are you exactly, I can see the insignia-"

"Matters not my name, just call me Colonel. Anyways, what's that song called?"

"The title's stuck on your tongue, Ms Colonel?"

"Ms Colonel, miss me with that. Anyways, that recent song is catchy as all Heck. To even spawn a remix within the first month is crazy on its own!"

"I salute to that, Colonel. Anyways, it's the World Revolving... or Jevil..."

"Those translators still have a problem to translate the title name?"

"Apparently. Or so goes the chicken scratch of Japanese characters."

"Reminds me of Old English, real Old English, where words were combined together and new meanings produced... Anyways, what's the most compoundiest word you can think off, Doctor?"

"Floccinaucinihilipilification."

"Oj Bóg-"

"Don't call God to this here, Colonel-"

"You understand Polish, Doctor?"

"Yes, took it as a minor."

"Great~"

"Thought of retreating to those jokes, didn't you?~"

"Peck yah, yah blerrie chop."

"Well, a Pole born also in South Africa. What an oddity."

"Nie."

"No?"

"Foster parents were White Afrikaners, racist pieces o' kaks if yah ask me."

"I suppose the racism against robots-"

"Androids, Doctor. Did yah really earn yer PhD or MD?~ Regardless, they've yet to shown any action of retaliation. Second they do-"

"You're going to drop-"

"I already did drop the act, can't yah sense doctor that this Diner ain't airtight if I recall correctly?~"

"Well crap, I forgot about the earwigs about this place... Is your car secure of those pests?~"

"More than secure, Doctor~"

"Let's continue from there, just lemme-"

"I'll tip the fine waitress, just go."

And so: with the scurry of two individuals, whose feat are frantic to get to where they're needed in this contingent moment, but over all body mannerism displaying yet but another busy day. Off in the far-edge of the kitchen, a manager's head generates and pours sweat down in a furious stream; to only then sigh in relief as he puts the revolver away and continues his biz. Moments after: a constant ringing of door bells with foots harassing the poor tile floor, cash registers singing their opens and closes and torn checks screaming bloody murder as they get detached from their check books occur. But for the Colonel's ears, they're not as loud as the constant exchange of dollars between many hands with the rifle of said dollars before fully escaping those hands. In the end, the Colonel's eyes sees a smiling waitress and they both say their goodbyes; there the Colonel heads off and regroups with the Doctor, soon both enjoying the nice, whistle coming from the breeze dancing about the town.

"Heh, nice volkswagen there, Colonel."

"Comes with the job and the æsthetics that I have to put up with - still gonna treat her right so I won't have to see an Autodoctor."

"Heh, you're a punster as well? No doubt about that, but anyways: please~"

"Tak, tak, just give me a moment, Doctor."

"Indeed, as the Colonel demands it."

As keys get lodged into car, they jingle in unison to their entry to the key-port and soon the door follows with its groans as the keys dance inside of it. Upon the opening groan sounding off, the door creaks open and the Colonel steps and sits inside, the same procedure and noises follows with starting of the engine. With the engine roaring to life, the Colonel leans and unlocks the door, the Doctor picks up on the door's open groan and opens for herself.

[2.]

"Ah, at least yah know how to open doors. My body thanks yah."

"Of course, why earn a MD if I couldn't open a door when I know its open."

"Funny yah. Anyways, the car is airtight to the max; so blabber on any secrets and we shall not talk more about it when we leave this car. Capische, Doctor?~"

"Capische, Colonel."

"Anyways, tak. I do know they're robots, but that talk for another time. Anyways, I collected yah for another tasker."

"My services are wide and deep, what is it?~"

"Well, Doctor, we've recently been taskered by the Government to, as the Government puts it, extract DNA from some old geyser."

A foot lands on the break peddle, it only sighs softly. Hands firmly on gear-shift stick, the stick groans loudly as the gear is shifted into "Drive" for the car. Foot on the gas peddle and the flickers flickering about, the car announces its lift-off to the streets. In the drive, the Colonel equips a Gas-mask, making all the rubbery noises before latching unto the face right, and hands another to the Doctor.

"Why do we need a SchMSs? Much less a Gas-mask at all?"

"I'll hand a file to yah as to why soon enough, just put it on Doctor."

"Alrighty then... Anywho, the file."

"Here."

"Thanks, Colonel... Hmm.... This certainly is interesting case, says here we're dealing with a two hundred year old-"

"And counting. The subject is precisely older than that, but she's still kicking and functioning like a forty year old chop. Imagine how her great grand-children feel like to hear that their great grand-nanny is some death-defying being. Regardless-"

"How has she not stirred that much attention?"

"We paid her good, pre and post Government years. Thus, she rebels not; yet her consciousness is rife with grief."

"Still! Over the fact that she can live forever!"

"Sheesh, imagine saying that to a robot now."

"My apologies, anyways says here that she suffered an existential crisis after living for a century but functioning as good as a twenty year old."

"Indeed, she then helped organize and radicalize the First Wave Feminists to be more than a voter's group. Indeed, she was going to make them into labour strikers as well - that's when we extensively put her on a pay roll, started with Teddy."

"Old Teddy Roosevelt, heard the peckneck committed to some horrendous acts of imperialism."

"That he did, though yah be surprised he hit hard on all the Caribbean islands and Central America. Especially to mój towarzysze in Haiti."

"To-var-zee-sh?"

"Comrades, Doctor, comrades. But that's history they tend to exclude except to military personal or ivory pillarists. Anyways, I heard he sent a detachment to quell labour organizers of rowdy Polish-Haitians in a town called Cazale got massacred."

"Interesting, what does that tid-bit have to do with her?"

"She's a Polish-Haitian that emigrated to the USA a few years before Cazale got bombarded. Of course, hearing the news, she made a massive strike - then came the bargain."

"I assume that even with the bargain-"

"Surprisingly the bargain actually fell through and every dime was gifted to Haiti. This was the only I should say the USA will ever live up to their bargains, let's not even get into Indigenous-USA politics right now."

"Huh, guess the Victors of History really do control what goes into documented history."

"More-so, she's tied with-"

"I know, the Gang of Four and Fred Hampton - she made a name for herself, for sure we ain't dealing with Angela Davis's Grandma?"

"I checked, no blood-line connection. Anyways, we manage to intercept some letters between this two hundred year old and Lady Mao from time to time. Interesting the things they write to each other, albeit thankfully those letters are sent to me - things they wrote would never have let this tasker we deal today happen."

"I believe you, but probably for the wrong reasons. So, you a red?"

"There are many ways to win a war, at least Sun Tzu would've said so if given the chance."

"Heh, funny you mention him but another time for that talk. Anyways, I assume she didn't behave like the Government and the USA administrations before then wanted her to behave? I assume."

"You can say that again, she used that payroll to help any labour and worker unions. A contingent enemy in the times where we needed friends or bought-out competition. As the Government puts it: the Market can't thrive if people disobey the rules."

"How haven't she ended up in some super jail or something?"

"You should be asking the same question of why we don't lock up Fascist elements nor even lock up old Communist revolutionaries. Think for a second on that, just think. Now listen and absorb this: the Government and the Market found a way, I know crazy that they work together but they've always been since the birth of the USA with the Market being the head-honcho, but they found a way to twist the story. Why do you think we often say the Victors are the authors of documented history? It isn't a meaningless expression, it's staring at you right now."

"So why are we even doing this, for what purpose?"

"Don't worry, the gene-o-matic there will still siphon the DNA strand, but I'll replace the actual one with a fake. That way, the never-ending life DNA or really, as I think some Doctors putted it as, extended DNA strands won't end up in either the Government's or Market's hands."

"Hmm... Are you an Insurrectionist infiltrator?"

"Me? Nie. I haven't been able to infiltrate one myself... What yah don't like the dry joke? Okay, okay. Nie, haven't been able to find one. Not yet at least, but I know the labour unions around here are stirring crazily and getting munitions-"

"I guess your funding them, Colonel?"

"Guilty as admitted. But is there something wrong with that?"

"Not really with what I see, Colonel. Not with what I fu- sorry, pecking see every day."

"Don't worry, no-"

"Not that, I just realized I-"

"Stress leads yah to be a blabbering sailor-mouthed kak?"

"Bingo. Look's like we're here. I'll prepare the Gene-o-matic, worry about approaching the great gran-nanny."

With the engine taking a loud sigh of relief, the wheels scream as their radial skin scrapes across the asphalt road. Upon parking and shutting the engine down, boots strut up the concrete walkway and the concrete announcing their pains with every strut. The doctor, on their part, took the time to heave the machine and setting it up - of which the Colonel notes before ringing the door bell which buzzed in a lofty voice. The Colonel listened carefully, calm feet did made their strides on the other side but soon another intervened and scampered when near the door. The Colonel stepped back, the door handle creaked upon being gripped and the hinges creaked louder with the door being swung aside.

[3.]

"Cześć, jak się masz?... Oj. Sorry-"

"Nie, nie. Twój polski jest dobry. Sorry, where are my manners! I'm simply a Colonel, and there's my Doc friend over there."

"Well, well, the Colonel finally arrives after all this time!"

"Betta' believe it sista'. Come 'ere yah chop."

"Well, Colonel, I guess the masks are identity protection?"

"Unfortunately so, that and the machine as well. Nae worry, yah'll get a gas-mask as well. Anyways, Doctor will explain the procedure - the Government's increasing it's demands on yah again."

"I already knew that as I heard the car brakes slamming from 'ere. Anyways, take care of Bris."

"So that's what yer name is. Bris. What a cute name for a cootie-patootie."

"He-he, that's just me. I'll be upstairs!"

"I'll meet with the Doctor and get the gene extracted."

"Aye, do that. I'll keep an eye on Bris... Bris, coming upstairs!"

And so, with the boots untied but the cammies still bloused, the Colonel heads upstairs, each step creaking in pain with every stride of the Colonel. Checking around, she saw many posters and photos strewn about: the glory days of her next century. What Fortuna had in her store for her next century, who knows. All the Colonel cared about was saving the old dame's life and keeping her true gene away from their grubby hands. As she went on ruminating even with each step creaking louder with her inattention, her brain humored how she had know the Doctor for a while but they still pretended to be aliens to each other - best it was kept that way for both of their sake. Seeing the room, she knocked on the door and asked quietly:

"May I come in Bris? Ow! Where that come from?- Bris!"

"Catch me if you can!"

"Oh ho ho! Well Bris, come out, come out, wherever yer at. Or I'll huff, I'll puff and I'll blow this house down!"

"Never!"

"Oh yah lil'!"

"He-he, gotcha on the floor. Now hands up where I can see them!"

"Right here, lil' Black Panther... Er- gotcha yer weapon now! Gotta be faster than that."

"Hey, give that back!"

"Why do yah think we got the upper-hand always, we always fight like wolves. Ha-ha, we won this round-"

"But next time I'll win that, and I'll need to win it once!"

"That's right, then the people won't fear me because a lil' scampa' like yah tackled me and made me submissive."

"So... Wanna answer some riddles? Okay: where do yah find a cat at three AM in the morning?"

"Hmm... Where do I find a cat at three AM in the morning, Bris?... Wait! At the picket-fences, cause they're strays."

"Wow, took yah that long? I imagine even the IWW would grow suspicious of yah, 'cause they think you're not wildcat material enough."

"Oh yah lil' rascal!"

"No-oh! Not again!"

"Here comes the Terror! With Liberty at the helm ready to guide the Terror on what to do!"

And so, as the above floor screamed, squealed, screeched, squeaked and sighed all through-out the day, the downstairs became an impermissible dense fog which soon cleared up with a window being propped open. The Doctor thanked the elderly, she just thanked the Doctor back for not wasting her time - both chuckled. As the Colonel heard the chuckling, she got Bris up and carried her downstairs. With the smell of nice coffee, both Bris and the Colonel spotted the Doctor and the immortal chattering on. Giving Bris to the immortal, the Doctor and the Colonel heaved the machine outside - quickly swapping the fake with the real deal flask of gene goop. The immortal, still carrying Bris on her arms, came out and gave her last goodbyes - both exchanging the parting cheek-kisses. Before the Colonel stepped into the volkswagen, she pulled out a head scarf and tied it to Bris's head - smiles exchanged. Upon entering and the car roaring to life as the keys commanded the car to do so, all waved their waves as the Colonel and Doctor pulled away.

"So, Colonel, whatcha gonna do with the real deal sample?"

"Hand it to the insurrectionists, anyways we can take our gas-masks off."

"Good, about to lose it if I kept in on for one more second."

"At least yah didn't faint."

"Hmph, yeah. Well, who's going to deliver the fake... I guess that delivery also befalls upon you as well. Well, you know my address, time for me to retire even if the Sun's still out."

-----------

Anyways, two things before every end blurb: thank yah @brisby for yer sketch and character avatar of Saddie. That's my two things! Anyways, we can still work on perfecting Saddie but I think we're on the right path regardless and she's starting to shape up real good. For those wondering, Saddie is a protagonist companion of another protagonist Ashley. If you want the full, chronological list of stories that feature them, just reply in your comment "hmu with that Saddie-Ashley stories." Otherwise, I'll stop blabbering about them here. And to make one final comment on this thread, this story was hashtag-bashtag (my thing because peck hashtags) dedicated to alternate history, the unsung working peoples, the sung worker heroes and @brisby as she's referenced in the story as "Bris."

So the story of immortals was hard to map within my Monoverse, Multigalaxy setting. But, remembering the first saga, the shambler saga, I decided to make this as a side-story to a saga of side stories that revolve around the Government, Insurrectionists, PMCs and Shamblers in a struggle for an era of a New Human species and the reaction of "the purist Old Human species." So, upon that, I decided to plot this before the whole Insurrectionist wars begin, before Alpha-1 Team becomes active and launches their first battle on May Day. Interesting how I had to weave around some established threads while adapting to a prompt about immortals. But, if a story where shamblers are literally humans forced to super soldiers become instead what we see as Necromorphs in EA's "Dead Space" while retaining a strong human intelligence, then I think immortals fit in the setting just right. That fitting in with one theme being the mal-intent of using genes to recreate the human experience and weaponizing them for any end in sight.

On another thread, I recently was re-reading books and speeches by the Black Panther Party, Angela Davis and others involving the 60s in the USA, so there was definitely that influence. And I just couldn't ignore how an immortal in this setting might as well be a pissed off, existentialist actor who has seen the face of the country change in front of her eyes and knows a better World can be achieved. So she just slid in well with that... Well, to continue the talk of influences, that Saddie and @brisby connection isn't totally off-base. See, when I was formulating Saddie, I had in mind a Caribbean character and I was, as the Pole/Polish I am, interested in Haiti. So I began reading as much as I can into Haitian history and found it funny that there was a Polish-Haitian group in a part of Haiti called the Poloné based in a town called Cazale. Story is that, when Polish Mercs landed in Haiti in preparation to retake Haiti back to Napoleonic France's control, they were enamored and reminded of their struggles back in Poland (called the Grand Duchy of Warsaw around that time) that they abandoned their original tasker and fought with the Haitians. Thus helping secure a revolutionary Haiti and, because of their fruitful military service, the Poles on the Haitian constitution was granted the same rights as Haitian-borne citizens. From their the community would grow and many activities would go on - now the Roosevelt-Haiti incident is fiction made up by me, or at least what documented history tells me; however, Communist Haitians based in the Poloné were massacred by the USA puppet installed in Haiti at that time at around the time when the Red Scare was happening in the USA.

So, this leaves the immortal to, on some levels of contingency but on levels of historical necessity as well, becoming a revolutionary dissident that abused any counter-revolutionary aide given to her so as to help any effort she can. I might humour another story involving her and the Colonel again, but fo' sho' I will reference the immortal (as "immortal") all throughout the shambler saga when it does makes sense to do so. Fo' sho' she would have an active hand in helping steer the insurrectionist movement in a post-USA USA (which is under the Government carefully steered by the Market, I think the references are still too much on the nose for literal NeoLiberalism). Otherwise, life isn't some gritty tale and has it's bout of chaotic fun even when its orderly to keeping our mental stability up when we look at the memories retrospectively. So now, I shall leave off and enjoy trying to see how this entire story got repainted with this end blurb - imma enjoy the Jevil Kazoo right now. For HE CAN KAZOO ANYTHING! Anyways, Shambler saga stories will be posted below.

The Shambler Saga

- Two hundred years and counting will slot in nice right here -

@theironfelix - The Rebel Compound

@theironfelix - What remained after

@theironfelix - Runaway Convict

@theironfelix - Scouting for Danger

@theironfelix - A ponderous choice

@theironfelix - A step towards hope

@theironfelix - Escape by pier

@theironfelix - Aftermath

@theironfelix - The Second battle for Vicksburg

@theironfelix - Ides of March anno domini 21XX

Cited posts:

@tygertyger - Electric Dreams, fifteenth circuit

Cited images

My sketchy sketch of a Bioshock-inspired diner