Diablo Ex Machina

I am not yet dead.

On the contrary, the twice-daily injections of felina-suprema serum have given me the strength of legion.

I am however, cut off from the comm chamber by the manically rapid and lurchingly sudden motions of Small Man. He has gone beyond simple mobility — he now has vehicles. One, a light and highly maneuverable speedster festooned with colorful weaponry; the other, a heavily armored assault juggernaut. The gating system keeps him contained, but with each subsequent impact at full ramming speed, I wonder just how far the envelope can be pushed.

Very much in the spirit of his progenitor, Small Man has also begun to construct strange and nightmarish equipment of uncertain function. The most devious of these involves a gaping spout and large red plunger that, when activated, roars to life, spitting orbs of death skyward while blaring a mind-melting “melody” of insane bells, blurps, thunks, and whammies. These hellballs then spiral down a sinister corkscrew back into the mechanical innards of the beast, only to be spat aloft once more in their dance of perpetual menace.

All this I observe from distance and relative safety behind the gates. But I tell you, on the day I see Small Man loading his deathball blaster into his assault vehicle, I'm heading for the hills.