The Tales of the World Intelligence Agents

[austintorn@aol.com]

Soon to be a 16 hour movie in a theater near you.

Time for some more video movies with actual plots. A computerized voice is employed, but I was too lazy to manually switch it for each character. Let me know how how you like them.

[austintorn@aol.com]

The Ninja Empire was a response to the Conspiracy, a mysterious, ultrasecret organization that even had infiltrated the FBI, the Senate, the British Parliament, and who knows what else, a la "Nowhere Man". The NIA (Ninja Intelligence Agency) eventually breaks this Conspiracy wide open, gaining the respects of the world's governments. Here we see its mid stages wherein some Toequestors take refuge from those wishing to gain information about the theory of Everything. NIA eventually joins with the CIA, DIA, and others to form the World Intelligence Agency (WIA) that presses terrorists and belligerent nations with a vengeance unfettered by politeness such as the Geneva Convention.

Rascal escapes 6 FBI black sedans and rides a bike through the forest, dark country roads, and back into the forest. Graybeard is researching marine life on the Great Barrier Reef near some boat docks when 6 grey MI 6 sedans pull up, unloading 6 boats that are faster than the one he steals and are closing in. Fredrick is stuck in a tunnel under the train tracks, standing under its only light while 3 KGB agents close in from each direction with also a guard at either end of the tunnel. Austin is pursued by the CIA/FBI through the Chicago expressways. Will they escape?

[austintorn@aol.com]

Introduction…

The Tales of the World Intelligence Agents

Does forever ever end, dying out?
Do unbreakable basics ever wear out?

Well, once every thousand years the Bird
Of Time flies over Mt. Everest, and
On some of those occasions, a part of
A feather falls down upon the mountain.

When the mountain has worn itself away,
The end of forever has then arrived, that day.




Intro

The prospective operatives received after-midnight calls, stating:
It will be a pleasure to instruct potential agents so well conditioned and already knowledgeable in so many fields; we will merely hone a few of your reflexes that may have become dulled. Training begins with a challenging journey to our nearest center. Meanwhile, you might practice walking around in the dark with a cat.
Each received more individual and specific instructions, along with a suggested route.

[austintorn@aol.com]

Rascal's beginnings…



FRIGHT RIDE

Rascal’s instructions read:

You will need to ride a bike rather soon along the dark country roads with many dips and hills, twists and turns, from your home to our facility. No lights are allowed. You should consider beforehand what you will do about any blinding headlights coming at you and how you will navigate the pitch dark areas of roads when you pass through dense forests. A cold diet coke with vitamins awaits you. Good luck. This is not a drill, for there are those who have just recently become aware of your talents.

Rascal made his preparations and then finished some work on the expanding universe. Out the window he could see six FBI-looking black sedans pulling up very quickly. He grabbed a water bottle and raced out the back door so fast that a faint image of him was left standing in the house. He hopped on his bicycle and was off and away while the Feds broke down the front door.
The bike ride was going to be a lot worse than he had thought, for there was no moon. Rascal reached 15th gear on a down slope and only downshifted when it became harder to pedal, of course, finally just inching along in first gear upon a steep upslope, where he stopped to survey the scene and have a sip of H2O. I knew this would happen when we discovered the workings of Everything, feeling both elated and deflated in a sort of yin/yang balance.
Rascal was soon off again and sailing along when a car with bright lights approached him from the opposite direction. Rascal closed his right eye just before his left was blinded by the lights, then quickly opened his right eye after the car had passed. Whew, that was close, he thought, after swiftly correcting out of the way of a mailbox.
He next rode through a densely forested area and could see virtually nothing at all, but he didn’t panic, and quickly gazed downward at the white line at the side of the lane for guidance, but it was really rather scary and much worse than walking into a dark movie theater and sitting down on a fat lady. Anything for the information, he thought.
He noted some flickering lights bouncing off the trees ahead, meaning that they were coming from way behind him, knowing this without even having to look back, for this is how it is riding at night, and so he pulled over into a ditch behind some bushes and watched six black sedans pass by at about 90 miles an hour. Holy mother of all reality, he exclaimed softly.
Rascal checked his map and was off again, in 79th gear, and going so fast that he didn’t care to stop for a large truck coming up behind him, and couldn’t anyway, so he hugged the side of the road and threaded the white lane marker, sticking to it like a gluon as the truck swept alongside, then quickly swerved towards the rear of the truck and drafted behind it uphill, defying gravity at its own game until losing the wind.
It was time to really get going, said Rascal’s brain to his rear that was now resting back. He got up to speed again, exhilarated by the adventure of the escapade. The air was was rushing by and whistling in his ears and his pajamas were flapping in the breeze. Bugs splatted against him. Now this is living, although there is a fine line between the here-before and the hereafter thereafter.
Rascal was drenched in sweat, even on this cool night, and drank the last of the bottled water. Only 5 miles or so to go. His heart was racing at 150 bpm and his legs were getting numb so he had to stop. He could hardly stand it so he sat down. This simple ninja training exercise had turned into a life and death struggle. The enemy will do anything to gain my information about the Theory of Everything.
A rooster crossed the road because there was a chick on the other side—and Rascal missed hitting it by just a feather, then a possum played dead in the road, or was already, and a deer darted out… If these were not enough, a squirrel that was already in the clear tried to dive under his wheels.
His ability to juggle multiple ideas came in handy and so he threaded a needle that he found in a haystack and sewed a stitch in time and passed through it like a camel into Heaven.

Twelve headlights were returning and the searchlights scanning, the Feds now realizing that Rascal had not been driving a car or had turned off the road, and so Rascal again took to the bushes and went pee while the FBI searched every farmhouse, hen house, and outhouse.
Rascal now rode more like a bat out of hell, going just fast enough to enter the 6th dimension, but not so fast as to enter the 7th, for that was Heaven and he wasn’t ready yet. He cut through a trail in the woods as shown on his map and could see the ninja training center just ahead—as it was raising its drawbridge to close for the night.
Rascal raced up the ramp, sailed through the air, and came down on the other side, coasting into the safety of the center.
A diet coke never tasted so good.

“Welcome, Rascal,” said a holographic interference pattern of Ultimate Master Nobody, “No one ever forget how to ride bike.”
“I would have preferred a pleasant walk down the road,” answered Rascal.
“No could have worked,” replied Nobody in broken English, “Man who walk in front of car get tired; man who walk behind car get exhausted; man in car chased by six high speed sedans become history. We know danger when send message”
“Well, I walked a round of golf the other day,” added Rascal.
“Definition of golf is: a pleasant walk ruined.”

Rascal had a good sleep, dreaming of riding a motorcycle, and awoke the next day to begin further training.
A ninth degree Grand Master appeared and disappeared and reappeared. “Welcome to training center, Mr. Puff Rascal.”
“I am lucky to be here, Grand Master,” Rascal replied, “and the drawbridge—do you close at 4 AM?”
“We give you cheap thrill.”
“I’ll give you a piece of my mind and you will not have any peace in yours!”
“Tut-tut. Close eyes. What you hear?”
“I hear that the whole world is after me and the others.”
“Ha-ha, good joke. Now, seriously, hear you your own heartbeat?”
“Are you kidding? It’s still beating out of my chest!”
“Very good. What else you hear?”
“I hear the grasshopper at your feet.”
“Excellent. Can you hear thermal vibration?”
“Those are, luckily, just below the threshold of human hearing—we would go crazy if we heard those things.”
“We will teach you thermal method. Hear grass growing?”
“No, but I hear the lawnmower mowing.”
“Oh sorry, I stop them. Done. Now, hearest you sound of toes questing?”
“No.”
“Good, they run on and no post readable. Hear vacuum?”
“No, the cleaning lady went home.”
“Ah, you catch on, you Rascal. Have you hearing aids?”
“No, I have no sexual transmittable diseases, for I never listen to a-holes.”
“Fine, fine—you good candidate. Assume you not have visual aids for same reason. Can you hear the sound of one hand clapping?”
“Yes, if I snap my fingers.”
“Very good, sir Puff. Puff the magic dragon?”
“Yes, but I didn’t inhale.”
“Ha-ha and more ha, Ninja Puff. You superb. Have you heard of goats?”
“No, but I have a flock of seagulls that Austin just gave me in this paragraph.”
“Fine answering, Puff-man. Hear the sun shining?”
“I’m all ears.”
“We teach you. But many places the sun not shine. Moon shine?”
“Alcohol dulls my senses.”
“Ah, good. Hear earth turning?”
“Yes, and space, too.”
“Oh?”
“The earth turns as much as space turns around it.”
“You wise man.”
“Why do you often leave out articles and other little words in your speech?”
“Unnecessary.”
“Maybe. Try adding a word or two.”
“You wise old man.”
“Never mind.”
“But you still hear the missing words, do you not, Grasshopper Puff?”
“Ah, yes; I see; that is part of the hearing test!”
“You no see. This hearing test. You are a good listener and of course I can speak perfect English, except in the UK.”
“Yes, once a lady in a hotel asked me for a lift and it didn’t go over very well when I did it.”
“Thank you, first degree ninja puffing rascal. Me, I am deaf and wife is blind; therefore we make perfect couple!”

[austintorn@aol.com]

Graybeard's "fish"…



Hilite: what happens with the big ship approaching…


FISH STORY:
YOU SHOULD SEE THE ONE THAT GOT AWAY

A poster soon went up in posting offices all over the world. FBI agents fanned out all over the globe in search of all the escaping scientific ToeQuestors.
Graybeard was testing his new scuba diving equipment after taking a long walk off a short pier, waiting for his ship to come in that would take him way out onto the Great Barrier Reef where he would continue to investigate life under the sea and then post some more of his findings.
He had just discovered a mermaid swimming toward him below while a dark fate was arriving above. Nobody’s warnings to him of impending doom had been slightly delayed by his remote location; however, Graybeard’s waterproof mobile phone soon rang underwater and he listened, amazed, as instructions were given to proceed to the ninja base across the bay, ending with hurry mate! and then click!.
“Wait, hold it,” said Graybeard into a dead line, “The mermaid mate—and I don’t even have a boat!”
He climbed up onto the pier just in time to see six grey MI6 sedans pulling up to the beach and screeching to a halt, some of them slipping on into the water. Why can’t these guys ever learn how to park, he thought.
Graybeard didn’t run, but walked, for they didn’t know what he looked like and because many boaters were milling about. He calmly grabbed a beer from someone’s boat, took off some of his diving equipment, and looked around for the fastest boat that he could steal or borrow forever. Why did I get involved with this TOE stuff, he wondered, already knowing that he had had to since it was the most ultimate quest of all—the Holy Grail. We are the knights of the temporal!
He picked up his pace when he saw the agents swarming onto the pier and checking everyone out. They must have Google-unEarthed me, he surmised.
“Excuse me,” Graybeard said politely, as he bumped someone off their speed boat, “it’s life or life in confinement!”. He puttered away slowly, but MI6 suspected him because he looked like James Bond and so they all ran to the end of the pier firing tranquilizer darts.
Graybeard was good at darts and so he threw them back, giving some zzzzs to a couple of them, then pushed full throttle ahead through a group of jet-skiers and off into the bay. MI6 was unloading something grey and floatable. It’s Gray against grey, he decided.
He looked back after a while, only to see 6 MI6 high-speed grey power boats pursuing him. I’m no match for these, but I do have a lead, but to where…?
He was hitting the speed bumps of the waves and driving as reckless as the boat safety course had told him not to, and was nearly blinded by the spray but then remembered that he still had his goggles on. They’ll never torture the TOE out of me, but if they tickle my foot I may have to die laughing.
After some time, they began closing in on him, with no land in sight—and his whole life of information posts began to pass before his eyes: forces, electricity, noumena, sea creatures, quarks, evolution, getting tanked at the Many-Worlds pub… tanks? fuel tanks?

A huge ocean liner had just come over the horizon at full speed, but… Graybeard doubted he could get to it for any assistance, for his unrelenting shadows were inexorably approaching, much as the night follows the day, and now but a kilometer behind. Tanks for the memories, everyone, he sighed.
As they drew near, Graybeard jettisoned three-quarters of his fuel and shot a flare into the inflammable and flammable stuff at just the right moment, causing a ruckus and disabling two of the boats. Good try, Graybeard the Pirate, he said to himself, who answered back, but not good enough…

A bit of time had been saved as two agents were rescued by the other MI6 boats, but it was only going to prolong his agony and delay for but a short while their ecstasy of capturing him. Back at full speed for 6 more kilometers, but with his fuel now getting low, Graybeard felt the exhilaration of his last hurrah on this earth as the Feds closed on him again. The ocean liner was approaching, very close, but there would be no time for him to sneak aboard unobserved. Not even Tom Clancy could save him now. This is it, he thought, die or die.
Ready to protect the TOE at any or all cost, Graybeard steered his boat with a last minute adjustment toward a head-on collision with the ocean liner… and then laid down in the front of the boat
The ocean liner struck Graybeard’s boat midship, breaking it in two, accompanied by a huge fireball explosion of the rear portion that the amazed MI6 agents took as his epitaph. They stayed and searched the area but found no trace of Graybeard. They put a hand over their hearts and saluted the brave ToeQuestor, then headed back to shore in disgrace.

(A cliffhanger—no, I couldn’t do that to you!)

“That’s two tanks for the memories,” said Graybeard, with bubbles coming out of his mouth as he assembled the last of his scuba gear, tanks, fins, and mouthpiece underwater, noting the raging firestorm up above.
He swam on, thirty feet submerged, for a kilometer or two, to vacate the area, then sat down on the bottom of the sea and drank the amber fluid (“beer”, in English). Here’s to the TOE! May it never fall into the wrong hands.
Graybeard swam on, using up the last of the air of his tanks, threw off his counterweights, and surfaced, quite exhausted, and noted the landmark that he’d been told of, still four miles away. (Austin is not good at kilometers) Too far, he thought, I’m as good as in a Black Stump (far away) or the Back of Bourke (the middle of nowhere), Bullamanks even (way beyond the preceding destinations)!
A small rowboat appeared out of nowhere with a robed black ninja waving to him, “G’day mate; good on ya! I give you fifth degree.”
“Cut the strine—I need some zeds (zzzzs).
“Too right!”
“Well, hooly-dooly,” Graybeard answered, “did Nobody send you—and are we going to the ninja center in this putt-putt?”
“Yes, and no. We go first Tom Clancy house—make notes.”
“I’m about to go berko—why wasn’t I warned of MI6 just a few minutes earlier?”
“It better training for great one, Beard of Gray ninja-san, king of reefers! And you love mermaid.”
“I give up, I’m too tired for kafuffling.”
Tom wished them well and they rowed toward the ninja outpost.
“No man look for rowboat and no man be island,” said the 5th degree Grand Master.
“Whatever you say, PHD.”
Darkness fell as they entered the training ground and Graybeard slept well, dreaming of fish women.
“Eye test time, Growbeard” said the ninth degree Grand Master.
“Shuteye time,” protested Graybeard.
“Please read line bottom of chart”.
“Printed by Acuvision 2005.”
“You have good eye.”
“Two, two eyes—do you think I lost one as a pirate?”
“No, sorry Grayman. Please close ears—what see?”
“I see you are going to end up in the ICU!”
“Now-now, Greatbeard. We teach you mind’s eye.”
“Ok, I’ll see you I to eye.”
“That better. Still seeing mermaid?”
“We broke up—fin-ished, due to my imminent death.”
“Be friend—we teach you seeing in dark.”
“I already have x-ray vision—and why is your underwear so ragged? What if you have to go to the hospital, like real soon!”
“You fine sight full of seaweed, but good eye too.”
“Two eyes.”
“I give you four eyes.”
“I don’t need glasses.”
“What if TOE scientist woman blind since birth named Mary regain sight—know she what color banana is?”
“Well, I thought not, and since I know her, I tried to trick her and showed her a blue banana…”
“She say not banana.”
“How do you know that?”
“While blind she knew EVERYTHING about banana!”
“Well, I’ll be darned. Teach me more.”
“See you woman on moon?”
“See you later.”

[Graybeard]

Crazy Dude ......

[labelwench]

Your creativity masks an entertaining communication and teaching style, Austin.

There would be little reason for any to take offense as it may frequently be difficult to follow the flight of your fancy and it most certainly would be a foolish person who dared presume which direction it might proceed next......

Graybeard likened unto Bond, eh? Which of the Bond characters did you have in mind, as there have been several who have assumed that role.....

[Graybeard]

Graybeard likened unto Bond, eh? Which of the Bond characters did you have in mind, as there have been several who have assumed that role.....

I hope he answers Roger Moore ..... rotflmao

cool bananas ... greg

[labelwench]

I hope he answers Roger Moore ..... rotflmao

cool bananas ... greg

Objection, Your Honor........leading the witness........

[austintorn@aol.com]

Sean Connery.


Next time, we will have Fredrick's astounding tunnel vision, in several parts, one featuring the the super music point hilite that is guaranteed to make you cry, then Austin's escape in a corvette, with a good hilite at the top height of the Chicago Skyway, also in several parts, and then a tribute to Lorrina Mitchell (using a female voice), famous lady dogsledder, who is pursued by six ice trucks from Fairbanks to Whitehorse (in the Yukon quest), where she now resides in safety and secrecy. These movies are done and are out on YouTube (WIA prefix) (Label's maybe going out there tonight) if you want to see them sooner. They represent but 1/100ths of what I have left to do. Have to find some hot-air balloons for Michael and hang-gliders for ProfPat, after I take a break.

You will get used to the computer voices in practically no time.

I need an automatic screenplay computer voice assignment thing (along with any needed sounds). Anyone know of one? I guess I will have to Google, but this one-man movie company has a budget of near zero. YouTube supplies me with some clips (Firefox has a download "add-on"); so, in a way, the whole world works for me for free.


It wasn't easy learning Australian slang (strine).