This Week In Recent WWE History [Potential Botchamania Ending]

Hope you’re watching Maffew…

Erromate: The UnSpoken Link (original series)

 

ERRORMATE:
THE UNSPOKEN LINK

The cube made its way down the corridors of the ship towards another room, one which was blaring out an assortment of dated pop song spread across the history of the dour little blue planet the ship had embarked from many well-worn stars ago.

As the doors opened and the cube entered, it found a wide eyed and hot tempered young girl with jet black hair, a long leather waistcoat and green jeans, her shoes loose with their laces, looking over a bushy haired young boy with large oval shaped goggles, a blue lab coat, and a chef’s apron. Both were keeling over to examine something stirring in a frying pan.

“That’s not a kielbasa” she said.

“You haven’t poured enough beer over it” the boy countered.

“It still wouldn’t make it a kielbasa” she continued, prodding the miniature slice of pork with her middle finger.

The boy shrugged his shoulders and resumed work on what appeared to be a small wind-up clockwork dragon.

He extended his hand, motioning for something to be placed in it, he didn’t let slip exactly what, and he just relied on Corella to know instinctively what he was requesting.
She gave him a wrench.

“I asked for a tuning fork”

“You didn’t even say anything”

“I thought you said you had a feel for people?”

“So I’m to know instinctively what they want in the very heart of the moment.”
“You’re always telling me to seize the moment; I just tend to look at moments as instruments is all”

“I’ll hand you a moment alright” she said, clenching a fist.

“Corella Breadweather?” the cube whimsically requested.

The girl reluctantly acknowledged her name being called.

“What is it?” She said, her tongue playfully wedged around the muscles beneath her cheeks.

“Ms. Risque has requested you put together a presentation on her behalf for the attention of Commander Marcus”

Corella motioned for the cube to follow her towards a calendar lying on top of her bunk bed. Her middle finger hovered over a specific day.

“It’s the weekend, schools are closed, and Sunday is where I do my homework”

“Forgive my confusion, but why would you settle on the seventh and final day of the regular cycle to put focus on your assigned projects?”

“Beats me, it’s just something she taught me. A custom amongst students she taught from her time, her place” Corella explained.

“Gives us more time for rest and play also” the boy added.

“May I offer a suggestion?” the cube asked.

Corella took to thumbing through several out of date fashion magazines littered across the messy quarters, trying to feign disinterest.

“You are being difficult” said the cube, recognising the reaction for what it was.
Corella’s mother Prentice soon joined them, having spent the day out at the market.

“I managed to attain a fetching crimson red frock for you to wear when we attend the social function this evening” she said

“Mom” Corella groaned.

“And I got you those expensive sandwiches you like to eat, surely that’s a sufficient currency to persuade you to try the frock on?”

Corella looked at her wide-eyed, raising one eyebrow, sighing and snatching the frock from her grip.

“Fine, I’ll give it a whirl” she murmured.

“Then you’ll do it?” the cube replied, picking up the response.

“Do what? The function? It’s not like you have an option, you’re still not the age to make an independent decision” replied Prentice.

“I can manage both in this thing can’t I?” Corella suggested.

“Depends, will you be anywhere moist?” Prentice asked.

“I won’t drench it if that’s your concern”

“Don’t even joke about getting wet around me, the last time one member of this family faced off against a flooding half the ship nearly drowned in its own tears, and you were deprived of a father”

There was a thin and palpable tension one could cut through in the air as mother and daughter gave each other telling and solemn looks before Prentice headed to the door leading into her own quarters.

Corella waited for her to be on the opposite end of the door before turning to the boy, Gizmund.

“You coming with me?” she asked.

“We have somewhere to go?” Gizmund.

Corella approached the cube.

“Go on, play it”

“You wish me to play the message?” the cube asked.

“What message? You never said there was a message, either of you” said Gizmund.

“Ms. Breadweather’s ability to tap into the unspoken link that connects the binary mind is a talent many of my kind have been trying to uncover in every inhabitant on the ship, we do not believe your people are born unique, that you are all one singular collective consciousness who are following a long-standing illogical desire to experience oneself from a subjective viewpoint”

“In other words, Corella’s left you stumped” Gizmund added.

“A mystery we are prepared to spend as much of our free time to uncover whenever the opportunity to interact with her arises”

“Does the crew know about this link you have?”

“It remains unspoken”

“But I just asked you, and you responded, hailing frequencies were very much open”
“You are a friend; you will not betray our confidence”

“Or maybe you’re trying to test me, to see if I’m wise enough to maintain my silence?”
“You are far too logical” the cube observed.

“And maybe that’s what’s keeping you in line too, you need someone close to Corella so as to learn how she ticks outside of the symbiosis you two share, you’re observing her, trying to create a unified network…smart thinking. I’m in”

“Just play nice and play it” Corella asked

The Cube did as instructed and played an audio recording of a tall man with a bushy beard, torn jeans and a grey trench coat, holding a spanner.

“Corella, I don’t have time, I’ll have in a few minutes is space, and there are people who are depending on me to get them home safely, when you get the request that I know is coming down the line, on the next field trip to lunar point frenz, I want you to take that which I’ve given you and head out towards the northern point, plant it in the yellow crater and stand well back. Once it does what it needs to do, return and fulfil the request. They’ll listen to you, Risqué is right; they always listen to the children”

The sound of rushing water could be heard echoing behind him, it grew louder as it headed closer.

“I love you, remember that, love and listen; it’s the key to all of this”

Corella requested the message be cut off.

Corella opened a box on her desk, inside was a crescent jewelled seedling, a murky miniature black vortex swirling across its centre.

She briefly hesitated, but eventually reached out and clutched it tightly to her chest.

“Give me an hour” she said.

“What’s an hour?” Gizmund asked.

“An Apex, in an Earthly language” she replied.