Lost in Tech, Episode 5: A Downward Slide Into Total Insanity
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    The Players:

    Our Hero: Your average Joe Fratboy, the unfortunate protagonist of our story, lost for months in the labyrinthine Technological Institute. At present, he has just escaped from the clutches of horrible Nazis that have been lying hidden in Tech since the building was built in the 1940s!

    Sean Connery: The man. The myth. The legend. Mr. Connery meets our fair hero in the Nazi’s prison, where he ended up after a freak time-travel accident. Now, the Nazis want his time machine! But he’s not about to give it up THAT easy…

    Klaus: Our merry monkey friend, who has since defected from his Nazi masters to help Our Hero recover the time machine and save ALL OF HISTORY!

    We slunk through the dark, dank corridors of the Nazis’ hidden compound. Klaus was leading us to the captured time machine. It looked like everyone was gone from the place, and this made the three of us very uneasy.

    An explosion of static appeared on the television screens lining the hallways, and all three of us started at the noise. We ran as fast as we could, fearing danger or discovery, but it seemed as though the halls were still deserted, and the screens were present everywhere, constantly following us as we delved deeper into the base.

    Suddenly, a gorgeous blond visage faded into view on the TV screens. We all stopped in our tracks. Sean’s eyes narrowed. “Bloody hell…” he growled.


    The beautiful Nazi commandant sneered back at us from the television, the camera pulled back to reveal her standing on a grandiose stage smattered with Nazi signs and scarlet banners. A large crowd of black-garbed soldiers stood at attention before her. She bellowed out, in a rousing tone, “Brothers! Sisters! Behold, our salvation!”

    “Why is she talking in English?” I asked. Sean shrugged.

    She strutted about the stage like a proud robin-chest out-crying at the top of her lungs: “For many long years have ve toiled in secret. Ze pride of ze Reich, its best and brightest, ve have bided our time and hoped for ze day vhen ve, too, could do our part, vhen ve too would rise up! TODAY is zat day!”

    With a theatrical pointing of her hand, like a stage magician in the final act, she gestured towards the curtains at the back of the stage. They parted to reveal Sean’s captured time machine, and Sean and I gasped, exchanging glances of dread.

    Elsa continued her speech: “Zis machine is greater than all of the science ve haf yet mastered. It is ze one thing, ze ONLY thing, zat can deliver unto ze Reich a glorious victory over ALL OF ZE VORLD! Zis machine vill alter ze fabric of history, sewing new threads of time in a glorious tapestry that will ensure ze total victory of our beloved Fatherland!

    Now, as for ze rumors of captured Americans loose in the base, zey are true. I speak to zem now.”

    “Oh…that’s why…” I grumbled.

    “Hello, Americans!” she said with a devilish grin and a cock of her head. “Did you really think zat no one would find me? Zat no one would check on ze room?”

    “Yes,” Sean and I both muttered grudgingly.

    “Hah!” she continued, “Zen you are fools. Once ze controls on your time machine are deciphered, we will use it to excise your pitiful country from history like ze tumor zat it is! And zer is NOTHING you can do about it! In fact, I DARE you to try and stop us. In zis room are four platoons of highly trained soldiers. I’m sure zey vould love one last battle. So come, Americans. Die like men.”

    She stepped off the stage to rousing applause.

    My eyebrows twitched and my fists clenched. I looked at the monkey. He looked at me. And we nodded to each other.

    It was on.

    Sean saw our nodding and put his hands on our shoulders, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, gents, let’s not run off half-cocked.” I giggled. Sean sarcastically burst out in mock laughter, “HAHAH! I SAID COCK! Shut up. If we’re gonna take on four platoons of Nazi goons, we’re gonna need some firepower.”

    “Damn!” I shouted in frustration. “Your right. If only there existed some magical room full of weapons of mass destruction that would let us turn the tables on these Nazi bastards.”

    “Eek!” Klaus squealed.

    “What’s that, Klaus?” I said, “There IS a magicalroomfullweaponsofNazisturnthetabledaBASTARDS?


    “Three rights and a left, and then straight through the circular door?”


    Sean burst in shouting, “Now what the FUCK is going on here, Doctor fucking Doolittle? Have you been licking toads or something, laddy? I’ve been down that road, boy, and its full of magical princes and public urination.”

    I didn’t actually know. “Well, it’s worked out so far. I mean, the monkey’s been leading us SOMEwhere.”

    “Alright, then, laddy…” Sean sighed. “We’ll play it your way.”

    “Ook…” Klaus said in a protesting tone.

    “Hah…I mean, HIS way,” Sean said with a chuckle.

    Klaus scurried off down the corridor, with us giving chase, and after a few more twists and turns, we came to a huge, circular iris doorway. Klaus worked the controls on the rim of the door, and it opened to reveal a huge hall with a vaulted ceiling and at least 5 floors of shelves and display cases.

    A directory stood in the middle of the chamber listing all of the weapons and artifacts in the myriad of shelves. Sean read off names, looking for anything that would help us. “Hmm…lasers…Impotence Grenades©…snake guns, rocket guns, bear guns, rifle guns…”

    “Rifle guns?” I asked incredulously.

    “Looks like it’s just a gun that shoots another gun,” Sean explained. “I’m also guessing the snake gun just shoots snakes at people.”

    “These…these weapons are fucking stupid,” I said, “They sound like a list of James Bond gadget rejects. No offense, Sean.”

    “None taken, laddy…but we’ll just have deal,” he said, and made his way over to the first floor of weapons.

    Like game show contestants, we ran down the aisles shoveling anything into our arms that wasn’t bolted down. We paused at floor 5, labeled “Novelties and Foodstuffs”. A television was playing next to an open refrigerator filled with dozens and dozens of ice cream tubs. I picked one up and examined it, reading the title on the carton aloud.

    “’Beer Cream…’” I muttered. I turned to the television, showing an Aryan couple in a middle-class home. The man and woman were arguing:

    “I vant to talk about my FEEEELings…” the woman moaned.

    “I vant to get piss drunk…” the man grumbled.

    “LET’S HAVE SOME BEER CREAM!!” they both squealed in delight as they looked at each other with crazy smiles on their faces.

    “Ja, es ist Beer Cream!“ said a cheery Aryan announcer in a smart three-piece suit. “Our scientists have successfully produced yummy ice cream vith all of ze numbing and depressant qualities of zat beloved German delicacy, beeeer! Is pretty much ze GREATEST THING EVER!”

    “Yes, now you can get drunk AND have a yummy snack on hot summer nights! If you’ve ever wanted to make beer or ice cream twice as fattening and deadly, YOU ARE IN LUCK!

    Beer Cream: Like Russian Roulette for your Health!”

    Sean had paused to watch with me, and after staring dumbfounded for a few more seconds, scooped up two or three cartons and curtly whispered, “Let’s roll, laddy.”

    We met no resistance as we moseyed on up to the doors of the auditorium.

    “Alright,” Sean said as we stopped at the entrance, “Here’s how it’s gonna go down. You, Klaus, you’re going to distract them. I don’t care how, just do it. Boy, you and me are going to wait until he’s got their attention, then bust in from the side entrance. Got it?”

    Klaus and I nodded, and he scurried off.

    Sean and I waited a few minutes. Suddenly, we heard the simian tones of Klaus’s voice echoing in the hall over the PA system.

    He delivered a passionate speech of “ooks” and “aks”. Sean just rolled his eyes and muttered obscenities.

    But when Sean and I peeked through the door, we saw that, miraculously, the Nazi audience was utterly captivated.

    As Sean motioned for us to sneak around, I could still vaguely hear what Klaus was saying. Something about, if they were the pride of the Reich, why were they locked up down in the fucking basement of an American university. Needless to say, the commandant flipped a shit, and the soldiers started fighting amongst each other. Into this chaotic fray we leapt, Snake Guns blazing, cobras and rattlesnakes flying at the faces of Nazi soldiers as we made our way towards the time machine. With a well-placed adder to the shoulder, Sean took out Elsa as we rushed the stage, and he started working the controls of the machine.

    “Laddy!” Sean screamed over the tremendous din, “I’m just gonna get us out of here, and then we can figure out where you want to go.” He pointed at the AV room where Klaus had resumed shrieking in monkey-noises over the broadcasting system. “Get Klaus down here. We are leaving.” Suddenly, a scientist came from behind the machine pointing a Luger pistol at Sean. My Snake Guns were out of ammo, so I reached for another weapon and pulled the trigger…

    …And Samuel L. Jackson leapt from the muzzle of my gun, flying straight into the Nazi and slamming him to the ground.

    Sean and I were utterly dumbfounded. I mean, just…

    What the fuck?

    “Uh…”I stammered, “Aren’t you, uh…”

    “Ya god damn right,” he said as he lit a cigarette and dusted himself off. “ I’m Samuel L. Jackson, mothafuckah.”

    “But, how did you…”

    “I’m a mother-fucking DEUS EX MACHINA, kid! Ain’t you ever seen Matrix Revolutions? War of the Worlds? I’m here to save the mother-fucking day!!”

    “Uh…okay…” I said, still completely detached from reality. “Um…”

    The German scientist, still dazed, spoke up. “Your veapon is called ze Deus Ex Machina Gun. It is powered by several occult artifacts (in other verds, magic). Ze ammunition is randomly generated each time. You could fire six times and shoot six different things out of it.”

    “But…like, people too?” I asked.

    “Ja, anything. It isn’t nearly selective enough vith its ammunition. It vould just pull things from their present location and send zem flying at people. I should be thanking my lucky stars it vas something relatively small and light. And actually, ve found in testing zat it disrupted ze fabric of space und time. Fearing a disaster of apocalyptic proportions, ve stopped using it.”

    This was absurd. “This is absurd,” I said with an annoyed tone of voice.

    “Ja, vell, you get bored pretty fast when you’re cramped in a subterranean hell vith nothing to do,” the scientist shrugged.

    “Well, we’ve pretty much got this locked down, Mr. Jackson…I mean, if you want to go grab some of that action,” I motioned to the Nazi brawl in the audience, “You’re more than welcome.”

    “Yeah, alright,” said Jackson. “Stay cool, kid. You too, Sean.”

    “Samuel,” Sean responded with a nod of his head.

    Then Samuel L. Jackson just started punching motherfuckers left and right. Sean and I looked at each other and shrugged as we all hopped in the time machine. Sean pulled the lever just as Elsa staggered up from her snakebite and reached for the Luger that the scientist had dropped. The machine had begun to rev up, humming low at first, and then gradually raising in pitch and volume.

    As a single shot rang out, striking the machine’s inner workings, all Sean Connery could say was, “Aw, for the love of bloody—”

    The light was blinding. I felt it penetrate my skin, piercing me like a blanket of needles.

    When I came to, my body was still smoking from whatever had happened to the time machine. My skin felt like it was burning, but I was still in one piece. I couldn’t see Sean or Klaus anywhere; however, I noticed immediately that something was amiss. I was still in Tech, (actually, in the café) but everything was so…old. Vines covered everything, and bushes were peeking out of the linoleum. The roof was gone, and I could hear strange animal cries in the distance.

    Something was wrong.

    VERY wrong.

    Wait, why am I nake-OH, DEAR GOD-!

    To Be Continued

    And Now, A Very Special Message from the Writers of Lost in Tech:

    Hello, everyone. I’m John Parton, one of the writers for Lost in Tech, also the Honorary Duke Mustard of Dijon, and author of such classics as Angels and Demons and Sense and Sensibility.

    And I’m Carlton Barzon, Viceroy of Velveeta, and writer of ­Army of Darkness, Eraserhead, and Driving Miss Daisy.

    If you think we sound a little batty right now, it’s because we are. The time is now 5:37 in the AM and we’ve just spent all night writing the story that you are now seeing with your eyeballs. As you can imagine, we’re a little sleep-deprived and quite possibly insane right now.

    You see, we care a lot about what we put out in Lost and Tech. We care about making it funny, enjoyable, nutty, and in general, a nice escape from the horrible drudgery of your classes and academia. But most of all, we do it for you guys…for the fans…for the people who come up on the street and tell us that you like it. Unfortunately, from the numbers we have deduced, we are only slightly more popular than According to Jim, which is not very good.

    So if you guys want to hear more from us, if you guys want more Lost in Tech, or if you guys want something specific, let us know! Write us a comment down below and let your voice be heard! Feel free to send in Lost in Tech fan art and fan fiction! We’re gonna take a week or two break to plan things out, but we’ll be back-as good as new-in a week or two with a whole new story in store for you.


    We’re writing…FOR YOU! (cue cheesy thumbs up and pointing at the camera)

    And for our legions of screaming fangirls.

    Nah, just kidding, we’re writin’ it for you. *wink*


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