There was a distinct pop as the twosome were splashed with a warm blend of blood, flesh, and fragmented ‘bits.’
“Mother fucker,” Biggs groaned as he wiped his face clean and looked at the headless corpse. “Why isn’t this working?”
“You’re still using the same calibrations as before,” Wedge snapped as he smeared away a layer of sanguineous viscera from the tablet screen. “I’ve been telling you all morning that we can’t rely on the old settings. The physics is completely different here.”
“The fuck you mean the physics is different? I’m walking, talking, and shitting all the same, so why the fuck is the physics not the same?”
Wedge furrowed his brow as he stared at the algorithms. He had always excelled at the technical aspects, but the original formulas had too much magic mixed into them for it to make perfect sense to him. “For starters, you see anyone around here shitting rainbows?”
“So?” Biggs pushed as he gestured for the crew to bring in another test subject. “Up is still up and down is still down. You don’t make this work, and Damon is going to put us in the queue to test out this technology.”
“Calm your tits, I’ve got this… we just need to have a little patience.”
Biggs shook his head as the cleanup crew picked up their most recent failure and carted it off to incinerator.
Damon Dukes bristled at the ineptitude around him. The setbacks had been momentous and cost them nearly an entire calendar year. His original plans had been pushed back time and time again because extra obstacles kept coming up, and in the end, he could barely blame most of it on the crew of miscreants and half-baked lunatics housed on the meteor.
How hard can it be to design an adaptive biotoxin? How about a modular dampening field? Or a self-sustaining fusion reactor?
Half the projects they had completed had required entirely too much time. Most of the crew had been used to a way of life where they could just press their brains hard enough and manifest their end goals, but here in this slice of the multiverse, they had to rely on grit and genuine intelligence. In that regard, there were few true geniuses among the lot.
A glance at the screen of his tablet showed Damon that they were managing to make up for lost time, even if they were still behind schedule. In some capacity, they would have to find a way to trim a little fat from the lists.
Failing that, he’d have to make a call.
And Damon had zero interest in placing any calls until the facility and its various pet projects were all functioning as they should.
“Mother fucker,” Biggs groaned as he wiped his face clean and looked at the headless corpse. “Why isn’t this working?”
“You’re still using the same calibrations as before,” Wedge snapped as he smeared away a layer of sanguineous viscera from the tablet screen. “I’ve been telling you all morning that we can’t rely on the old settings. The physics is completely different here.”
“The fuck you mean the physics is different? I’m walking, talking, and shitting all the same, so why the fuck is the physics not the same?”
Wedge furrowed his brow as he stared at the algorithms. He had always excelled at the technical aspects, but the original formulas had too much magic mixed into them for it to make perfect sense to him. “For starters, you see anyone around here shitting rainbows?”
“So?” Biggs pushed as he gestured for the crew to bring in another test subject. “Up is still up and down is still down. You don’t make this work, and Damon is going to put us in the queue to test out this technology.”
“Calm your tits, I’ve got this… we just need to have a little patience.”
Biggs shook his head as the cleanup crew picked up their most recent failure and carted it off to incinerator.
***
Damon Dukes bristled at the ineptitude around him. The setbacks had been momentous and cost them nearly an entire calendar year. His original plans had been pushed back time and time again because extra obstacles kept coming up, and in the end, he could barely blame most of it on the crew of miscreants and half-baked lunatics housed on the meteor.
How hard can it be to design an adaptive biotoxin? How about a modular dampening field? Or a self-sustaining fusion reactor?
Half the projects they had completed had required entirely too much time. Most of the crew had been used to a way of life where they could just press their brains hard enough and manifest their end goals, but here in this slice of the multiverse, they had to rely on grit and genuine intelligence. In that regard, there were few true geniuses among the lot.
A glance at the screen of his tablet showed Damon that they were managing to make up for lost time, even if they were still behind schedule. In some capacity, they would have to find a way to trim a little fat from the lists.
Failing that, he’d have to make a call.
And Damon had zero interest in placing any calls until the facility and its various pet projects were all functioning as they should.