Billy Crystal's two friends from his new movie are a big, tall giant and a small naked baby. The giant wears overalls and is quite naiive about the world, especially the modern world. Billy is away one day and the giant is bored, so he starts whackin' off. Then he wonders what stuff would feel like up his butt.
He walks to the porch and sees what he thinks is a statue of a cherub, and he stuffs it up his ass. Unfortunately it's the baby, turned temporarily to stone. It unfreezes and starts crawling further up his ass.
Billy puts on a yellow miners' hat and arranges a spelunking team to go in and get the kid, while others comfort the remorseful giant "outside".
That bit was mercifully light on details. It had the tone like it was supposed to be funny but came off disturbing. Must be a Billy Crystal flick.
I've just finished coding the prototype to an optimized rendering engine for my computer, but unlike current graphics hardware, it can handle curved surfaces. I test it with a Tomb Raider level to see if it has basic functionality, but the level has no curves, so then I plug in map data taken from some adventure game that people had only taken rendered snapshots of before.
The computer screen fades in to a blank humanoid figure standing on a curvy mountain path made of yellow dust and little pebbles. Dense forest begins on either side of the path, thousands of close-bunched trees of variying shapes and hues. I walk the humanoid figure up the path, and look to my left. Each tree, each branch, is distinct and rotating around the others. Behind them all is a distant mountainside, grey rock and green shrubs. Not only did it look like I was really there, but it looked more radiant, more distinct, than actual reality.
I walked by a riverbed that washed out part of the path, revealing a layer of distorted and channeled rocks, wrinkled up in wave patterns. Each indentation and crack was fascinating. At the end of the path was a pool of aquamarine water, forming a small lake. Gusts of wind coming from down the cliffside blew wave-patterns on its surface. I leaned out to see the bottom, and there was -- nothing. An indistinct aquamarine-white blur. There was no data for the bottom of the lake.
I imagined that if I jumped into it, once my head submerged I would start falling away into white nothingness, and would look up to see the inverted underside of the whole mountainscape contained in a square, rocketing away above me.
The vehicle looks like the Space Shuttle taking off from a runway, but it has no wings. The nose is heating up and fire is licking from it. It roars and tilts upwards, and then settles back down to the road and goes over a hill. "Damn," I think to myself, "those poor people have to drive a malfunctioning rocket to get where they need to go."
But I go over the hill and see that the shuttle has turned into a van. It's on a freeway now, and instead of going around traffic, it blasts jets under the car and jumps OVER it. Boingy Boingy Boingy. Sort of a silly idea I think, and definitely not street-legal. But these people aren't from this country, and this is their special van. They're a visiting foreign girls' volleyball team. Royal treatment!
They've been given a house on Sawyer Circle, the big one on the right just before the first curve on the road, with those ridiculous columns at the front door. They drive there. They invite people to come over and hang out with them. The crowd that arrives is conspicuously all boys. I ask where the kitchen is and the team leader stammers something and points. Uh oh, we don't speak a common language. I grab a root beer from the fridge and sit down on a chair near the door.
Everyone is milling about looking helpless. The team leader puts on 20's flapper clothing and swings around a glass of champagne. Then she starts some music playing. The vocals are a mix of our language and theirs. Everyone half-heartedly tries to sing along to the rap, and then to a hip-hop version of 'London Bridge is Falling Down'. The team leader is lying across two men's laps, grinning like an idiot. It's like she's seen photographs of decadent parties and is trying to recreate them.
I pull my knees up to my chest and stare at my root beer. This is going to suck.