Mythos as Benevolent Godzilla
More of my spinning the Mythos into spastic concepts. I blame the Gamera/Jimmy Olsen as Turtle Boy homage in JLU. Here it is...
"Tell me what you've got. What's gone wrong with the world."
"General, it's hard to explain is terms a layman would understand, but the subspace lattice, the quantum level of reality is breaking apart. We have no idea why. Reality could be rotting, there could be something occuring on the astronomical scale that we're unaware of. Today, Iceland disappeared. Telescopes have spotted it on the surface of Mars. Clocks are ticking faster. Every airline flight departing last week heading east has arrived four days late, but no one can account for the missing time. People are seeing the ghosts of cities that don't exist outside their windows, across the river. A lot of this sounds nuts, sir, but we've all seen the news reports. Stuff that was laughed at in the sixties when it occured in the Bermuda Triangle is happening right now and its not funny any more. This is a total metaphysical breakdown. The universe as we know it has reached some sort of critical mass. Predictions show it getting worse, reality splitting into isolated pieces. That's what the white lines are we've seen above some of the major cities. Cracks in reality."
"I take it you called me here because you have a solution?"
"Yes. It's unconventional, but we need to repair these cracks, accessing them on multiple dimensional axes at once, easing pressure and redistributing energy."
"So, a probe? Some sort of drone?"
"We... tried a drone, sir. It was destroyed. It was promising, but ultimately we can't write a program flexible enough to deal with the physics involved. We need something that can multitask, that can be evolved by genetic engineering to think and react in an advance manner at superhuman speed. We need to kitbash an organism that can sense in multiple dimensions, react to and channel tremendous energies, and survive long enough to reknit the places where reality has grown thin."
"That sounds like a tall order."
"Indeed, sir. Luckily, we've got years to work on this before the metaphysical breakdown is at critical levels. We can live without Iceland for now, but the USA should survive long enough to get this project working."
"And you've got a candidate that fulfills all your requirements? Some organism that you hope to re-engineer into your requirements for intelligence and multitasking?"
"Yes sir, with genetic modification and addition of certain human genetic code with cybernetic enhancement, we plan on using this sir."
The Giant Tentacled Hyperintelligence Unit for Life, Liberty, and America waded into Tokyo bay. Above GTHULLA, the sky was marred by a white sizzling crack or unreality. Gthulla contemplated this a bit, seemingly lazy but full of determination. Finally, it let out a tremendous HUOOOONK! and set about its cyclopean task.
Gthulla stretched up as a hundred sub-brains raced into life. His secondary sets of eyes opened, and retuned themselves to see into the many dimensions close by. Its myriad tentacles raised and caressed the air, disappearing into unseen realms, gingerly tapping and cajoling them into proper alignment. Unseemly amounts of power were redirected, the bleeding universe began to heal. For less delicate tasks, it - though most people called it a he - raised his mighty squamous fist and pulled at the frayed edge of the universe. After many many minutes, Gthulla HUOOOONKed again, his task complete. The white crack in reality was gone.
Gthulla turned, and over his massive bioengineered shoulder, he looked back at Tokyo, tentacles clenching and unclenching. For a moment, he gazed, and then turned his attention to the sea.
Across the bay, a young Japanese schoolboy pulled off his cap and waved it.
"Gthulla is a friend to all children!", he cried with exuberance.
Stride by ponderous stride, he began to disappear beneath the waves, returning to his submarine base to sleep until he was next called upon by his worshippers - ahm, by those he protected.
Sub-brain 323-X noted the slip up in the internal monologue. The keepers would note it on the black box and spend some time recoding GTHULLA's programming.
Sub-brain 323-X sighed. He really wasn't supposed to be active. Why was he? Hm. Well, what to do?
323-X mused for a while, but his thoughts inevitably turned towards the Soviet Hybrid Ultra-Brain. The Reds were always boasting about how it - and it was definitely an IT - had saved St. Petersberg during an blizzard. A blizzard! Who cared! Gthulla was obviously not going to give pause to a blizzard! Gthulla saved the entire Pacific fleet when the ocean began to drain away to who-knows-where. SHUB was just Soviet propoganda. Gthulla could obviously beat him in a fight. He could kick Shub's tails all the way across Moscow - whoa... where'd that come from?
Onboard the USS Arkham, satellites tracked GTHULLA's progress towards the Remote Launch Yoke and Entity Housing.
Suddenly, a small amber light began flashing under GTHULLA's behavioural constraint array. This light was not ever meant to flash.
The crewman assigned to watch over this board jumped as the light began to blink, and his pale face looked about frantically. He grabbed an intercom.
"Omigod! Omigod! We've got yellow sign! We've got YELLOW SIGN!"
Far below, Gthulla paused, considered for a moment, and turned his attention towards Moscow. Current Mood: geeky