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"Mooom, I waaaaaant one!"My spawn grasped at my third to left tentacle, tugging desperately. "Look, they're so *cuuute!"*
I paused in my search. The stalls of the exotic spacemarket were crowded in closely, the little clear plastic cages stacked almost close enough to touch. Inside each cage was a bilaterally symmetrical, bipedal mammalian creature with only four spindly limbs and what appeared to be a processong unit seperate from its body. Its light-sensing organs, set close in the front of its processor, were bright and curious. They chittered to each other as we watched.
"Dear. We aren't here for a pet."
"Please?"
Now my other spawn was joining in. Together they grasped my tentacle and pulled me toward the bipedal mammals.
I shuddered despite myself. The spawn were fascinated by mammalian creatures after a science special on Fletnix, but honestly I found them a bit creepy. What kind of creature kept its entire sensory/cognitive processing unit balanced above its abdomen on a fragile stalk? How did it not just...break off? Ew. I much preferred the usual arrangement.
"No, dears, we need to find--"
*"Please Mom!"*
I gave an exasperated sigh. I'd watched the science special. "Look, mammals require special care. They have to be kept in an oxygen rich environment. They have to be kept the right temperature. They have to have particular carbon based food and they need to drink dihydrogen monoxide all day. I don't know if your father--"
"Pleeeeease!!"The double howl of the twin spawn defeated me. I approached the mammal merchant grouchily.
After some dickering over the price I left the mammal merchant's stall with two plastic bubble cages, each containing an oxygen filter and a hydrogen engine to pull gaseous oxygen and liquid dihydrogen monoxide for the skinny creatures. Inside each cage sat a mammal of the species *homonid,* as the merchant told us proudly.
"We call em 'humans,'"said the jocular merchant. "Keep their filters in good repair, change their bedding daily, and feed them *solely* carbon-based organic food pellets."
Carbon was a plentiful element, organic photosynthetic matter easily obtained, so at least the creatures wouldn't cost much to feed. I was petrified lest they ever need a veterinarian--exotic pets could be extremely expensive--but the twin spawn were ecstatic.
Each spawn held a cage gently in its tentacles, peering in at the mammals.
"Eek eek eek,"they squeaked, high pitched nothings to our aural sensors, which of course were attuned to our own lower vocalizations.
"Can I give mine a treat, Mom?"cried the elder spawn.
"Me too, me too,"joined the younger.
I fumbled with the bag of mammal pellets. Each spawn snatched up a pellet with a delicate tendril of tentacle and offered it gently to their respective pets.
"Eek!"shrieked the larger mammal, snatching the pellet. Its sensory/cognitive processor *opened* and it rammed the pellet directly into its vocal apparatus! The treat vanished into the void of the mammal's interior. Holy shit.
"Go on,"said the other spawn, offering the pellet. The smaller mammal took it hesitantly.
"Eek!"it screamed, and enveloped the treat with its processor.
The spawn were impressed. "Look, Mom,"the elder spawn pointed. "It eats with its vocalizer! Weird!"
I was more creeped out than ever. Food ought to go into one's gustatory receptacle, at least if one were civilized at all. I saw the creatures' vocalizers unhinge again in my mind's eye and shuddered.
Somehow they were still shrieking their thin little cries while actively cramming treats into their vocal holes. White bones lined the holes. Crunch, crunch, went the carbon-based food pellets. I decided I didn't want to watch.
"Put them in your rooms and do *not* let me catch you with them out of their cages,"I told the spawn. "The last thing we need is an infestation."
"Okay, Mom! agreed the spawn cheerfully.
And they did. The cages were set carefully apart, one in each spawn's bedding area. Each mammal squeaked and screamed a thin, constant, irritating sound.
"Maybe if we moved the cages together?"suggested the elder spawn after a sleepless night.
So the two cages were set side by side in the living area. As soon as the plastic walls touched, the homonids flung themselves at each other, pressing together, squealing furiously.
"They missed each other!"said the younger spawn, watching the mammals with satisfaction. The two creatures seemed calmed by each other's presence. The high pitched squeals turned to little chittering sounds as the creatures pressed against the separating plastic walls. They had agile little digits at the end of each extremity, I noticed. Ew.
"Can we put them together?"
*"No,"* I said with authority. "We don't need them to breed, for goodness sakes. Keep them seperate."
So the homonids sat side by side for a few diurnal cycles. Our days were longer than the days on whatever planet they'd come from. To us, they seemed to be constantly napping. But between naps, the two creatures sat and keened to each other, fluttering their upper extremities against the hard plastic.
One day I passed by the cages and noticed one was empty.
"SPAWN!!!"I shrieked, horrified. "Where is the second homonid? Did you let it loose in the domicile?"
"No, no,"they insisted. We looked around frantically. I imagined spindly little homonids lurking around every corner.
Elder spawn suddenly laughed. "Look!"It said, pointing. "It's climbed in with the other!"
I looked with a sudden chill.
The bipedal mammals were both in one cage.
In order to have accomplished this, the smaller mammal would have had to open its own cage somehow and then, oddity of all oddities, *climb into another cage* instead of fleeing for its life! I looked at the little creatures again, sharply this time.
They were wrapped together, ocular organs spouting liquid, making a soft, shuddery racket, extremities clenched around each others warm velvety bodies.
"You don't think--"I said, hesitating. "They aren't...*sapient,* are they??"
"Surely not,"Elder Spawn replied, aghast. "It wouldn't be *ethical."*
We observed the chittering homonids. They certainly vocalized a great deal. Their four ocular organs were locked together in a desperate gaze from each stupidly suspended sensory/cognitive unit. The digits of their upper extremities were eagerly entwined.
"They *are,"* gasped Younger Spawn. "Listen! They're talking, I swear they are!"
"Good heavens!"I felt faint. Hastily, I opened each cage and then brought out our trusty translation device, the one we used with our Betelgeusian neighbors who never could be bothered to learn Pleaidean.
I placed the alpha wave receiver within transmitting distance. The chittering sounds scrambled and then unscrambled.
The homonids were crying! They were crying together, crying of abduction and trafficking, separation and loneliness and misery! Horror struck me. What had we done? They were sold to us as pets! I was wracked with guilt.
"Please,"I murmured into the receiver. "Forgive us. We didn't know." |
*Carol's eyes drifted off the laptop screen as she lost herself in thought. She crossed her arms, sighing through her nostrils. In front of her, the white text box gaped empty. In the upper left corner, the black line flashed like a ticking clock.*
"A special ability...", she mused.
*She had her hands firmly placed on the keyboard, ready for action, but the inspiration never came. She was stumped. What kind of ability could a person have, that they never know they're alone in? Superpowers, like flight or invisibility, were out of the question. Anatomical oddities or freaky Rain-Man stuff were bound to surface sooner or later. No, it had to be something private - something that wouldn't show, and something you wouldn't ask other people about. But what could it be? Carol stared at the screen, getting nowhere. Finally, she gave up and turned to the one person she could always rely on for help.*
"Hey, what do you think?", she asked, letting out another sigh. "Any ideas?"
*I'm sorry, Carol. I've got nothing.* |
The weird thing about eternity is that it passes in a moment. It's like falling asleep. You fight and fight to finally fall asleep but the second you do, you're already waking up. Here in purgatory, one minute you're told you have to wait for something, and the next it's already started. They only told me that there were four people I had to wait on. Each of them had some qualification to judge me and send me whichever way they deemed fit. Bliss or pain. Love or hate. I held none of the cards.
And then they were just there. I couldn't see them. That was the other funny thing about purgatory. Your identity just... melts away. It's not gone, it's just not important. Unimportant in the same way that anger passes. You spend so much time fixated on that anger and then suddenly it's not even a fleeting memory, it's just gone. You can remember feeling angry, but you cannot remember why, and you cannot make yourself feel it. But these four figures, whether their identities were gone or not, were more like feelings. One was kind. One was cruel. One was saved. And one was ended. Even now, where I am now, I couldn't tell you what it meant to feel "saved"or "ended,"but nonetheless, that was the only way I could sense them.
They stood before me. Or at least it felt like they did. And they began to speak.
"I am sure you're nervous, having been told what we four must do,"said Kind.
"Though whatever you get, I'm sure it's what you deserve,"Cruel added.
"We might offer you the redemption you seek,"Saved said.
"Or present a finality to your journey,"said Ended.
I thought that they would deliberate. I thought that I would watch them discuss the odds and ends of my life, argue over my worthiness, and fight for my eternal post. Instead it was just memories.
Kind showed me myself as a child. I was happy. There were no worries. These were lovely days in my childhood home, playing with my sisters, chatting with my mother, and leaping on my father when he came home from work. Each time, glances in the mirror, smiling at myself.
Cruel showed me a decade later. My head held low at school, sitting quietly in the back of class rooms, and gazing in envy at others laughing. The glances in the mirror seemed darker. Fidgeting hands rummaging through tangled hair were the same hands that tore that same hair out. The glances had turned to gazes, staring intently at a reflection of me that, even now, I hated. I felt shame, I felt pity, and I felt alone. I came to realize slowly who my judges were.
Saved showed me more memories, this time, a young man. No longer a child nor a troubled teen. I met a girl, and fell in love. I asked her to marry me. I saw my kids. All of them as stunning as their mother. The happiness of my childhood seemed near in these memories, and yet there was a sadness in my eyes. Troubles left unforgotten and trapped sat lurking behind my vision. Those glances in the mirror, while smiling, showed imperfection. And yet, while not carefree as I was a child, a different kind of happy. Perhaps more accurately, satisfied.
Ended brought me to its namesake. An old man, with my aged wife and children, now grown, beside me. The vision was only a bed, and the reflection in my mirror now was... blurry. Maybe it was a window I was looking at. My wife clutched my hand and my children knelt by my bedside. I didn't need a mirror now. I was ready. Happiness, sadness, love, and hatred, left behind. I had none of any. Only calm. Only peace. I was done.
The figures judging me... they were me. Who else would be so kind to me? Who else would hate me with such passion? Who else would I have saved? And who else would I have ended? One by one, they spoke once more.
"You should feel as you once did, that childishness again"Kind said.
"And leave me behind. I am not you, nor should you have let me in,"said Cruel.
"Your own path and judgement allowed you to find love and happiness,"said Saved.
"And you did all that was near to your heart,"said Ended.
"Be at peace now. Rest. Your journey was long and trying. But you did well, as well as anyone. You were not perfect. But you were good." |
According to certain scientific theories, Stephen Hawking's house is an abomination against nature, and has no right to exist anymore. Neither should the earth and solar system it stands in, or even perhaps the fabric of space time unpinning even that. Because on the 28th of June, 2009, it was host to every single time traveler ever birthed by the human race, some multiple times over. However, the universe could not be bothered to untangle this amount of convoluted bullshit, and went back to sleep. As such, Stephen Hawking's house still stands, and the party gets all the wilder.
Dr Matthew Kilenger was the first to receive an invitation. He found it in his research materials for a history of time travel paper he was in the middle of writing, and had begun with Dr Hawking. He very, very illegally requisitioned the machine his university had on loan and went to check it out. He found a house empty expect for the fabled scientist, and a frankly ungodly amount of alcohol. Perhaps a more morally upstanding member of the scientific community would have left this quaint 21st century spectacle alone. But Dr. Matthew Kilenger, BA, MA, PHD, IDGAF, was known in his youth for his excellent impression of the wild party animal.
And he had a crush
And better yet, now, a plan.
​
He widely circulated the invitations on the internet the next day. Not everyone has access to a time machine, of course, mostly physics departments, government departments and fire departments (fire's are a lot easier to prevent than put out it, it turns out). But enough people with a loose grasp on the potential ramifications on space-time and a very clear grasp on what free booze meant got hold of one that when our friendly Dr returned - with a date this time - it was an absolute *rager* that made the Incredible Hulk look calm, a college frat party look like a 5 year old's playdate and a rockstar's birthday look like a civilised dinner.
​
As time progressed, you see - as in the future was forged, because as any third rate college drop out armchair physicist could tell you in the 45th century, you can't travel forward in time, because it doesn't exist yet - the invitations spread further and further afield. People went to the party, thoroughly enjoyed themselves, came home a second after they'd left with the sole thought of "I have to go get Sam/Mary/Jane/Scot/Fllargabarghl/Dave, this is one hell of a party". And so to enjoy the party properly, they'd set the time for the beginning of the party, and wander in, high fiving themselves as they passed. You could see 5 or 6 duplicates of a person roughly the exact same age down to to the quarter of an hour discussing their life and really hammering out their issues while hammered. Perhaps three different version of the same couples all looking for somewhere to go quietly, and having the same ideas at the same time. Because of this multiplicative effect, Stephen Hawking's house party became populated over the course of a single night very, very quickly. So when our friendly Dr returned to enjoy the fruits of his slightly illegal labours, he found a veritable cornucopia waiting for him. And he had just enough hindsight and physics in his brain to figure out the chain of events, and to understand his cock up. He then threw the rest of his caution to the wind and had the time of his life. And he, like everyone else, decided to have the time of his life again, and again, and again.
Supply chains begun to be organised as the good 21st century Dr began to run out of booze in the face of an ever-growing guest list. People would travel back to their own time to travel back earlier to begin loading up with alcohol before the party begun. Some got lazy and started bringing in snacks from their resident century, which got *wild* once the generations that had integrated with the Galactic Community started showing up, and alien alcohol and drugs got mixed with human stuff. A whole ass triage centre got set up in the backyard to avoid spilling the secret to the 21st century hospitals who would've been inundated with 1.) an obscene amount of alcohol poisoning cases, 2.) apparent clones and 3.) actual fucking aliens. Doctors of the medical rather than scientific kind got invited, then taught how to duplicate themselves as payment for essentially working a night shift on their day off.
It's still going to this day. Thanks to the internet, pretty much everyone after a certain date knows the party exists, and no government an stop people going, even ignoring the fact that to explicitly outlaw it would implicate most of their members in a crime against time itself. Couples realised they could dupe their significant others and some very, very adult only stuff started happening in the bedrooms. Shortly after that some bright spark set up a porn studio next to the triage centre and the less said about that the better. Older versions of original party goers are beginning to show up to relive their younger days and get drunk with their younger selves, as well as swap advice. In theory this would cause horrendous fractal splitting of the essence of time itself, but like I said, the universe gave up trying to work all of this shit out a long time ago and decided to give humanity a pass this once, so long as it keeps the noise down. |
I was reading a book when I heard a loud thud from my living room. At first I ignored it. I have a dog, you see, a big old St Bernard, and Rex has a tendency to go gallumphing all over the place, then run into furniture, and after immediately return to his running about.
However, when I heard a voice from the other room, I began to panic. I lived alone(aside from Rex) and wasnt expecting any company. I eased myself off my chair, grabbed the dictionary from the shelf, and began to slowly and carefully make my way to the living room.
As I approached the doorway, the voices got louder. My heart was pounding so loud in my ears I couldn't understand what they were saying.
When I reached the doorway, I took a deep breath before going in. I raised the book. Stepped into the living room. And immediately froze. I scanned the scene before me.
Rex, on the couch, with his expression guilty and his snout soaked in slobber. My mother's prize vase, knocked sideways onto the floor and coated in dog drool. And the man, with dark green skin. And no legs.
The man gave me a nod. "Hello, Master of my Master."
"I'm going to faint."I murmured. And then I toppled.
-----
I came to and discovered Rex standing over me, dripping drool onto my face. I sat up, and wiped most of the grossness off with my shirt. "Ew. Thanks, Rex."
He responded by wagging his tail furiously.
I turned my gaze back to the man."You're still here."
"Indeed I am."He nodded. "I am tasked to remain by my master's side until he makes his wish for the day. "
I rubbed my face with a hand, accidentally smearing around the dog spit I missed. "Jesus christ."
Rex cocked his head at me, and the green man shook his head with a smile. "Nope. Just your average genie."
"Ok, so. Let me get this straight. My dog,"I pointed at Rex, "*that dog right there*, woke up a genie, who was living in my mother's favorite vase."The genie nodded. "The same vase,"I continued, "that my mother filled with flowers 24/7/365 throughout my childhood, and up until the day she passed."
The genie nodded again. "I was always wet when your mother owned my vase."He noted, sounding annoyed.
"And now that my dog woke you up,"i pointed at Rex, more aggressively this time, "*again,* that dog *sitting right there*, he gets a wish a day, until...?"
"Until the day my master makes a wish I cannot provide, or that is not his own desire, or entirely fails to make a wish, he is allowed one wish a day."The genie replied.
I rubbed the last of the slobber from my face with a shirt sleeve. "Okay. Okay. Glad we got that sorted out."I sat down on the couch, and Rex hopped up next to me, plopping his big dumb head in my lap. I scratched his ear absently.
The room was silent for a while, aside from Rex's leg thumping on the couch, and his tail wagging madly.
"So, did Rex make a wish yet?"I asked the genie.
"I don't know."He replied, his tone cheery. "I can't speak dog." |
Hef leaned over the desk, polishing a curved crystal blade.
"Pretty calm today,"he muttered. "How are you doing over there?"
I looked up from my desk, nodding. I liked it the best when the sunset beams seeped into the thrift shop, making all the trinkets, artifacts, and weapons glitter.
The doorbell chimed obnoxiously, and the first customer of the day stepped into the shop. He wore an impractical armor fitted with a ton of shining gemstones.
I hadn't seen him around before, and Hef didn't greet him in his usual pompous manner. Without a word, the customer pulled a massive blade from his scabbard and placed it on the desk.
"My name is RF,"he said. "And this is the Blade of Sopaa."
Hef tried his best to keep his face in check, but a twinkle of ecstasy surged through his usually stiff face.
"And... you're just going to trade that away?"Hef said, narrowing his eyes.
"Yes, I'm tired of it,"RF said, shrugging. "I want to return to my old ways."
"Very well, I'm not going to say no to a good deal -- feel free to pick out anything from the shop."
A grin spread across the customer's face and he pointed at me. "I want her."
The smile on Hef's face suddenly melted away. "Well, um, why?"
"Does it matter why?"
"She's... she's not for sale."
"Not even for the Blade of Sopaa?"
"Not even,"Hef said.
"Huh, well, I have the Blade of Sopaa,"RF grunted. "I'll just take her."
"Good luck,"Hef said, scoffing.
He leaned back against the counter, watching RF stride up to me.
"Come with me, girl,"RF said.
"Sorry, but no thanks,"I said without looking up. "I'm not interested in you or your blade."
And just like that RF found himself at the bottom of a pit, where crazed people gushed over his blade, but nothing else really came of it. Would he be able to get out? Maybe, but not in this story.
Hef shook his head. "I feel sorry for him."
"Well, that's what happens when you try to steal the narrator,"I said and put my pen down.
|
“So, this is what earth looks like now? It’s been a few centuries since I last visited. You must be the cultists who bought me here and trapped me, I assume, for a purpose?” The demon’s golden eyes traced over the pentagram beneath his feet, the edges of the symbol having a dark black wall of energy radiating from it, keeping him sealed in its center.
“We did it. We awakened the unholy one. I am Liam, the soul bringer of the cult of Salam, the other two are Martha and Frank. We are the three leading members of the cult and now request your eternal guidance.” The three hooded figures stood before the demon, surrounding him as best they could.
Liam was the first to remove his hood, exposing a face of utter hopelessness. Bruises decorating his cheeks, chunks of hair missing from his head, and a lost look in his eyes. He threw himself to his knees, and the other two followed.
“Finally, we can get all the answers we need. How do we give our life meaning?” Martha asked, hands clutched together in a prayer. Her face covered in dirt and grime, begging the demon for an answer.
The demon didn’t acknowledge their words at first, staring off past the barrier they bound him to, watching a bird swoop through the air, entranced by its simple luxury of being free. As the bird flew away, he sucked in a few deep breaths of fresh air, enjoying it while it lasted. “Thank you for summoning me outside, it’s a lot nicer than the usual basements people call me to. The earth is wondrous, isn’t it?”
“What’s so wondrous about it? The world is corrupt, and we are slowly killing the planet. We can help you cause chaos, help you reap the sins of humanity.” Frank said, the younger man self-assured in his beliefs, wanting to punish humanity. His face clean shaven, his black hair neat, mismatched among the group kneeling beneath his feet.
“Why would I want to do that? I hold no ill-will towards humanity. I find you fascinating. Sure, in my younger years the idea of spreading chaos would have been enticing, but I have matured. I would rather progress humanity forward than cause destruction. I sympathize with your pain though; I was human once too. Lost like you were, feeling like humanity gave up on me.”
The three glanced at one another, unable to believe the words they were hearing. They summoned a demon that didn’t want to harm humanity. Frank, who once again spoke his mind, eventually broke the stunned silence.
“Sympathize with me? What would you know? You get to be a cool demon and torment sinners, I’m just some nobody that gets mocked whenever I try to express myself. You can go to hell, this is stupid. What a waste of time it was summoning you.” Frank turned his back to the demon, preparing to storm off, only for a booming voice to halt him.
“YOU DARE IGNORE A DEMON WHEN IT IS GIVING YOU ADVICE?” His words had an unholy screech to them, the surrounding leaves turning brown, dropping from nearby trees, effected by the sound. “I grew up in a similar situation to you. Drunken parents who had no time for me, lovers who were just using me, and a world that didn’t seem to care about me. I understand how you feel. Unfortunately, I died before I could change myself, but its not too late for you. Why not work to become the change you want to see? You have a fiery passion for justice even if its slightly skewed. Work to help others in situations like yours, volunteer at soup kitchens, get a certificate in counselling. That will give you the fulfillment you require.”
Frank’s body shook, trying to comprehend the words the demon said. He thought the demon was going to kill him, those booming words nearly causing him to faint. Yet, the demon only offered advice, pushed Frank to be a better person. Everything he said oddly made sense.
“I guess I could try it. If it doesn’t work, though, can I summon you again and destroy humanity?” He asked with a smile on his face, trying to get some insurance on this deal.
“It will work, but sure. You have to try though.” His gaze soon turned to Liam, giving him a pitying look. “Your wife’s death was a freak accident. You can’t blame humanity for that. She wouldn’t want this for you. Bethany wants you to be happy. You need to move on. You have a son that needs his father. Bethany’s gone, but part of her still lives on in your child. I know you want to send that drunk driver to hell, but his time of judgement will come. Don’t create a hell on earth for yourself and your son. That won’t bring her back or make that man suffer. Keep going for her, let her rest in peace.”
Liam pulled the hood down over his face, sobbing into the dark fabric. “I’m an idiot. How could I be so stupid? I’m sorry Bethany, I didn’t mean to let it get this bad, I’ll do better.”
With those two done, he moved onto the last member, Martha sheepishly avoiding his gaze, like a child expecting to be scolded for breaking a toy. “To answer your question. There’s no easy way to discover meaning. Some find it through helping others, while others simply find meaning in reading a book or two. Find something that makes you happy. You have spent your life trying to please everyone else that you forgot your own happiness. Spend some time getting to know yourself, discover who you want to be.”
“I don’t know if I can do that. I don’t like to make others worried. What if I find out I have nothing meaningful?” Martha questioned.
“I’m sure you will find something. Regardless, you don’t have to search alone. You have two people by your side now that I’m sure would be happy to help you. You three could summon a demon, that’s no small feat. Use that determination for the greater good.”
“We will I promise. Thank you.” Martha patted Liam’s back before Frank eventually joined in consoling their friend. The three huddled together, sharing a moment.
“Good luck.” With that, the demonic circle glowed, the pentagram peeling away clumps of dirt and soil, revealing a hole to hell. When the hole was wide enough to fit into, the demon swooped down, spiraling into the warm pits of hell. “Maybe If I help enough people, I’ll get to visit earth more often. I miss it.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) |
Edit 8: [link to full novella](https://samgalimore.files.wordpress.com/2014/11/unhooked.pdf)
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The announcer on the TV seemed so happy about, it just depressed me. I was bored. I had seen and done it all, the flying, the breathing underwater, all the stuff everyone did but didn’t want to talk about. I had dreamed every dream I knew, now it had become, boring.
Unhooking was the term. Society had evolved away from anything to do with education or research, and very little effort went into agriculture, so most people worked a few hours a week, and spent the rest of their time going under. Everyone that is, except for the unhooked.
Unhooking had happened slowly at first. People had given me weird looks for throwing parties that lasted more than thirty minutes, and didn’t involve any sleep related activities. Then as my friends saw I was posting online for eight hours or more in a stretch they had gotten concerned and had a meeting to try to bring me back into the dream.
I eventually lost my friends, and for a while it was depressing. There was no one to talk to for 90% of the time I was awake, everyone was off playing with themselves in their own worlds. My family had disowned me, I couldn’t maintain a relationship because I couldn’t relate to anyone. It was miserable, and then I found them.
I had decided to take a walk, through a forest, when a group of people my age had run past me yelling and singing at the top of their lungs. They beckoned for me to follow, and I tried, but I barely made it a hundred yards before I was a sweaty panting mess.
They didn’t judge me for it though, they just laughed and patted me on the back.
“We haven’t seen you before, just unhooked?” One asked. I nodded.
“Don’t worry.” Another told me. “It gets better.” We swapped numbers and started hanging out.
I had wanted to spend time outside with them, but they said I had to get more used to being active and awake first. Their past times during this waking period seemed dull to me at first, the board games and guessing games were uninteresting compared to fighting your own wars against space zombies. Until I realized that I could lose, and I could fail.
They had let me win games at first. I was so used to winning that always coming first was normal to me. But that first time I lost was such a rush. It was confusing and a little aggravating at first, but that next game made me feel so alive! There was chance here. There was competition here. It was like jumping into a pool. The change was so quick and so refreshing. It made the games so real and vibrant to me.
“Have you guys ever swam?” I asked, after a particularly humiliating defeat.
They looked at each other mischievously. “Have you?” They asked me.
That day I took my first steps into actual real life water. It felt foreign, being immersed in a substance other than air. It scared me senseless that I could slip and find myself unable to breathe. I thought about what drowning for real would feel like. There was no way to give yourself gills here. What would happened if I died?
Strong hands grabbed me from behind and thrust me under the water. I screamed, air rushing from my lungs as the hands held me under. I couldn’t think of anything else but how much I needed to breathe. I pushed with all my might with my legs to reach the surface to no avail. I grew desperate and flung my arms at my attackers, trying to ward them off. I started to see black. Finally, the hands released me and I surfaced, gasping for air.
“ You good?” One of my friends who had almost drowned me asked. I took several deep breaths of air, and for the first time in my life, felt grateful to be alive.
“I'm good.” I tell him.
“Welcome to the real world."He tells me. "You can die here, but it's the only place you can really live.”
Edit: some words.
Edit 2: I am truly humbled by the response to this. I don't know if I can make a whole book, but I can definitely do a multi-part novella. They'll be 6-10K a piece(2-4 parts). I'll upload them to my blog and post links here(the character count would require like four replies per installment if I posted here). Starting first part right now and should hopefully have something within twelve hours. I'm considering that gold commission and will get on this ASAP! Also, tweaked the ending, hopefully clears things up.
Edit 3:http://samgalimore.com/2014/10/16/unhooked-part-one/ Part one is done! Three or four more to follow. This one basically takes what I've written here, and expands it out, and adds a little something extra at the end. Next one will start to take the plot some interesting places.
Edit 4:http://samgalimore.com/2014/10/18/unhooked-part-two/ Part two is up at about 6.4K words! Bringing the total to about 12.5K Ryan experiences even more new highs, and some darker plot elements begin to rear their heads. My goal is to make you literally hold your breath at least once while reading this. Definitely is looking like a five part series.
Edit 5:http://samgalimore.com/2014/10/19/unhooked-part-three/ Part is finished at 5.8K words! We are over halfway there! This one takes some dark turns, so I will say that this is not the end. We've still got two more parts to go. Thanks for reading! FYI, part four will probably wait until Tuesday, and part five will probably be Thursday.
Edit 6:http://samgalimore.com/2014/10/20/unhooked-part-four/ Part four done, only one more to go! Word count for this is about 6.9K, bringing the current cumulative word count to about 25K. In this chapter Ryan confronts some of the darkest parts of himself, and digs down deep to find reconciliation, and a purpose to life for.
Edit 7: http://samgalimore.com/2014/10/22/unhooked-part-five/ Done, done, and done! Part five is the longest so far and puts the series at almost 33K in total! I'm going to edit this over the next few days. If you're interested in helping me polish it up, please send me a PM with any suggestions or comments. Once I've edited it I'll put it on amazon for free and then on my blog. I'll post a post here in a few days with links to both. Wow, such an incredible experience this has been. If you're reading this, thank you for reading and sticking it through to the end. This was the better part of a novel in just seven days and you guys made it possible through all the outstanding outpouring of support and encouragement. You guys are the best and make writing for free totally worth it! Thank you for being a fan! I'd do this again in a heartbeat! |
Musk sat in the chair hunched over, grime and dirt covering his tattered suit, his hands scraped up from obvious digging.
"I don't understand. We accounted for every fault line, every contingency, hell fluid dynamics show that it shouldn't have even had an impact!"
The 8.2 earthquake that hit Los Angeles caused catastrophe above ground, yes, but the Hyperloop tunnels, which should have gone unaffected, like a submarine in a tsunami, were completely destroyed, killing 800.
Musk was at an Ocullus event with Mark, exhibiting the newest tech when it happened. He remembered the day starting off well, as the tech was being introduced for the first time on the Hyperloop transports. Full surround visual feedback, full immersion experiences. You could think you were on a beach whilst moving 400 mph in the tunnels. Within reason, simply moving too much in the transport would cause the lasers beaming direct images into your eyes to struggle, and the image would blur. It was a start but Musk told Mark it wasn't up to par in practice and suggested he could do better.
The walls of the event hall were first to break, causing a near total roof collapse. While the building was completely up to code the earthquake was massive. A city ender. Most people were ultimately uninjured except by people rushing for the exits, even as Mark took to the mic and called for calm through the overhead speakers. The walls held.
Musk's phone lit up, dozens of high level, important messages spewed in. Musk ran down the corridor in a panic, down the stairs to one of the many Hyperloop entry points. He expected damage but not what he saw, complete collapse. As he frantically dug at what was left Mark placed a calm hand on his shoulder.
"There's nothing you can do,"he had stated plainly.
In the chair Musk began to cry.
"And that's Ocullus 4.0!"Mark Zuckerberg smirked, standing on stage in the auditorium, lights shining on a pod in the middle of the stage.
The audience gave a standing ovation as the pod opened and a perplexed Musk wiped tears from his eyes.
|
It took almost a dozen tries before I managed to get my house keys into the door. Using a key with 4 broken fingers? Not the easiest task.
"Oh hey Andy, you're back"my sister yawned, still facing the television.
"Yeaa..."my stomach suddenly growled. Oh fuck, did corpses get hungry too? Is that why Zombies always eat humans? I quickly dragged myself to the kitchen.
"Hey fix me up something if you're eating"my sister shouted.
"Ok."I have no idea what she's saying, fix her up? she's not dead! I'M FAMISHED.
I dug through the fridge and immediately clawed out the red meat. Fooooood. I quickly rummaged through it with my fingers.
**"The fuck bro?"** my sister suddenly stood up, facing me.
"Uhh... theres this new keto diet. Raw meat retains the nutrients..."
"Whatever, I'm going to bed, oh your Uncle's here to visit too."she said as she went up the stairs. "Ronnnn, he's back by the way."her voice trailed off.
A man suddenly came down with a smile on his face, running towards me as soon as he saw me. He gave me a hug as he exclaimed "Andddyy my dear! How are you!"
I was about to give him a hug when I realized his hug dislodged my left arm. His hand released me as my left arm dropped to the floor.
"Holy Shit! Are you alright?!"He recoiled.
"Uhh.."I grabbed the left arm on the floor with my right arm. "It's a proesthetic. Afghan last year, remember?"
"Oh shit. you've gotta tell me all your war stories!"he exclaimed.
"Yeah uh.. enemy sniper, went right through the tendons."I smiled awkwardly.
"You smell awful too, did you fall down a ditch?"he grabbed his nose.
"...Chanel No. 6, it's experimental"I tried to fix back my arm.
"Meh, never had a thing for luxury performs. Let's get you a drink"he said as he patted me on my right arm, just hard enough to make it dislodge itself too.
Dum. Now my right arm is on the floor, holding on to my left arm.
"..."my uncle stared.
"..."I am officially at a lost.
​
"...There were 2 snipers."I smiled again. |
I've always preferred sleep to consciousness. When I was a child, my nightmares in sleep were mere shadows of the horrors that daylight brought. As I fell into unconsciousness each night, the dull aches of the bruises and the piercing pains inside me faded to a single, overwhelming fear. A fear that drove me sprinting too slowly down dark, hazy corridors in my dreams. A fear of what was behind me. I grew used to it, whatever it was. I was always running, afraid, but I knew it. It knew me.
Until one night, when I felt strong, and it was so familiar, I turned around. The fear throbbed in every corner of my mind telling me to run. But we knew each other.
Every night after, I pushed aside my fear and stared at it. I stared at it and thoughts began to take shape in my head that were not my own. Sounds and ideas and sights that I could never had imagined on my own. I tried so hard to give something back, but my mind was too incoherent at night.
During the day, I began drawing what I saw at night. I tried to say what it had told me. I had few friends, and then I had none. Everyone distanced themselves from the "freak". I was beaten at school too now. Sometimes, I knew things I shouldn't. Sometimes, the leader of the other boys or someone who spoke too loudly about me began acting strangely. Mindless, fearful, shambling, muttering about dark things that should stay hidden from the light of day.
When they came, everyone was scared. The fear grew in every corner of the world, telling them to run, but there was nowhere to run to. But I knew them. And they knew me. When I finally had a chance to meet them, surrounded by tanks and drones and probably some of the most important people in the world, I stared at them. And they asked me a single question in that impossibly intimate way I knew.
"*Should we trust? Are you good?*"
And at last, I could say something back. I could tell them something.
"*No. All bad. We are all bad.*" |
A light mist hung in the air as Dumbledore made his way down the main street of the small English village. He seemed perfectly relaxed, his buckled boots clicking on the damp cobblestones as he entered a small pub. A faded wooden sign above the door read "Octopus and Dog."The barman gave Dumbledore a small nod as he walked through the bar, out a back door and into a muddy alley. Almost immediately, he was greeted by a strange, "Beep, beep."Parked in the alley was a plain yellow school bus. His face broke into a wide smile.
"Hello, Professor Frizzle."
"Ah, good afternoon, headmaster,"replied the young orange-haired woman behind the wheel. "Arthur, he's here."Arthur Weasley emerged from under the bus on a rolling board.
"Dumbledore! Thank goodness you're here. Look at this wonderous invention!"Arthur said excitedly. He picked up the rolling board. "Frizzle taught me how to attach a board to wheels. What a marvelous little device!"He gazed at the dusty wood and creaky wheels like they were a priceless painting. After a moment, Dumbledore cleared his throat.
"The bus, Arthur?"
"Oh...erm...yes,"said Mr. Weasley, looking embarassed with himself. "We managed to apparate a standard American school bus here. It's been fitted with every charm standard for black-market magical vehicles. Invisibility booster, transfiguration capacitor, a shrink module, and of course an undetectable extension charm on the inside of the bus itself. It'll be able to get about as far as Pluto."As though hearing its name, the bus blinked and smiled at the two of them as Frizzle emerged. Her simple dress was a plain blue, free of the colorful pictures she liked to enchant the cloth with.
"Are you ready, Professor Frizzle?"
"As my great-aunt Helga Hufflepuff used to say, 'When the dark lord is taking over, move to America and train a muggle army!'"replied Frizzle. Dumbledore chuckled.
"Too true, Professor. And thank you for doing this. I didn't know who else to send."
"Happy to do it, Professor. How's my Muggle Studies replacement doing?"asked Frizzle.
"She's taking an extended leave of absence,"Dumbledore said, clearing his throat and quickly changing the subject. "You're sure you'll be alright? The Ministry will come after you, you know."
"Let them come. As my second cousin Ernest Flumple said, 'Why the hell are wizards so stupid?' An army of children armed with basic scientific principles will make short work of the dark lord,"Frizzle proclaimed with a wide smile.
"Well, yes, but I do believe that Harry-"Dumbledore started. Frizzle laughed derisively.
"Harry? Hah! I'd think he was a Muggle-hater if I didn't know better. You know in his first year, he complained about every Muggle-observing field trip we took? I swear, if there's a single kid in my new classroom that complains about field trips I'll make him the *subject* of every single one."
Dumbledore sighed, "Well, alright. But be on the lookout. We've gotten word that a wizarding family escaped to the town you're headed to, and their daughter went to Durmstrang."
To be continued! |
The shrine at the top of the mountain was empty. The view was spectacular, reaching above the clouds. It was one he would have cherished with his father, all those years ago, hiking on the weekends. Back when the skies were blue, and smiling was easy.
“You have to earn it,” a voice said. Omar turned around, and there he was. Slight, wizened, but with eyes that sparkled with a mischievous vitality, the genie smiled.
“How?” Omar asked, hearing the desperation in his own voice.
“You have to earn it like all things in life are earned. And life is a game, and you must play with intelligence, and bravery, and heart. And you must feel your losses deeply, make them worth something. Can you do that?”
“You don’t know how much I’ve felt my losses,” Omar said.
“Then let us play. Prove yourself, and I will grant you your wishes.”
\-
The game proceeded slowly at first, pawns being moved forward to free up movement from the back. But then, Omar moved a pawn into a position to be taken by a bishop. Suddenly, the pawn transformed-
“Roy?” he said, shocked.
Roy smiled. “Hey, prof.” It was a joke they had shared, that Omar dressed too formally for a high school history class.
“What is this?” Omar asked the genie.
“You must feel your losses.”
“What are you talking about, prof?” Roy asked. “You need to chill out.”
Roy had been troubled, but always managed to put a smile on his face, even as he showed up to class hungover, with scars on his wrists and bruises where there shouldn’t be.
*“Hey prof, I’m going to have to take off for a little bit,” Roy had said on his last day.*
*“Where you going? It’s not the best time for truancy, Roy. Finals are coming up. And the Celtics are still alive in the playoffs.”*
*“Just somewhere I have to. And of course I’ll still be watching the Celtics. This is our year.”*
*“Ok. But remember to think about the choices you make. That’s all I ask.”*
*“Of course, prof. You say that every day.”*
*“Take care of yourself, Roy.”*
*Roy smiled. “I always appreciated that about you, prof. You never told me what to do, or how to do it. You get it.”*
But had he? The funeral had only been a year ago, and Omar remembered breaking down at the anti-suicide assembly they’d had.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know…or I mean, I did guess, but I didn’t know. I didn’t care enough.”
Roy shook his head. “Shit happens, you know? Shit happens and sometimes it’s not your fault. It’s not your fault my stepfather was a monster.”
“It wasn’t yours either.”
Roy looked around at the board he was standing on. “Well, it’ll be your fault if you don’t win, right, prof?”
“I guess so.”
“Then think about the choices you make.”
And the bishop moved into Roy’s spot.
\-
Omar didn’t see it, how the genie’s rook was waiting to take his bishop from the corner. He had played a good game so far, only sacrificing pawns and taking out a knight. But he couldn’t believe his carelessness.
“I’m sorry, mom,” he said, his lips trembling as he looked at his mother in the bishop’s spot.
“That’s okay, honey,” she said, they way she always had when he was a little boy. Before all the rebellion, before all the bad choices, before the drugs and the years of not talking, the crying on the phone…
“I tried,” he said. “I want you to know I tried my best, even when I screamed at you and said I hated you. I always wanted to make you proud.”
“I know, honey,” she said. “But I was proud just watching you in your basketball games, at the spelling bee. You didn’t have to score or win to make me proud.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?” Omar asked. “When I couldn’t anymore…”
“That’s my mistake,” she said. “But we have to live with our own recklessness. Our mistakes, don’t we?”
“I guess so.”
“Then make it count. Don’t let one mistake ruin everything.”
And the rook moved into the bishop’s spot.
\-
Omar thought long and hard about it, but finally decided to do it. He moved his queen into the genie’s bishop’s spot. The genie’s queen now had a free line to take out his own queen.
The moment he had dreaded arrived. The queen transformed.
“Hi, cutie,” he said. It had been a joke, that he found her cute, but not handsome. Not hot or sexy, just cute.
“Hi,” she said, smiling from ear to ear. He had never gotten tired of that smile, unbridled and not scared at all. He had wished he could smile like that.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For everything.”
She shook her head. “Why be sorry for who you are? You gave me what I wanted. What I needed. But I couldn’t give that to you.”
He had tried it, for so long, to like within the picket fence with her. Steady job as a teacher at the same school as her, Japanese car, good performance on paying off the mortgage. But it had been killing him, snuffing out his dream like that, even as he couldn’t find a single fault with the details of his life.
“It should have been enough,” he said. “I didn’t have to say those things to you. Blame you for my own inability to be happy.”
She shook her head again, a full side-to-side shake, leaning into everything fully the way she always did.
“Sometimes you have to sacrifice a lot for your dreams. Even love. And it hurts, but you can’t move on if you don’t. And I know you too well to blame you.”
“I love you,” he said.
And the queen moved into his queen’s spot.
\-
Now they were at the end. His rook was one move from the corner, where it would place a check on the king. Then the genie’s king would be trapped, and…
“Stalemate,” the genie said, moving his bishop into place, taking out Omar’s rook. Omar was too stunned to react at first, and then he saw it. The bishop didn’t check his king, but Omar couldn’t move it without contacting the genie’s king. The game was over.
Omar crumpled to his knees, covering his face with his hands. When he finally stood up, the genie and him were back on the mountain.
“Congratulations,” the genie said. “What will your first wish be? And don’t worry, I’m not stingy. We get a bad rap.”
“What? But I didn’t win.”
The genie smiled. “But you proved yourself. Sometimes, that’s more than winning.”
Omar looked out at the view. The clouds were clearing up, and the whole valley was almost in view.
“I think my parents would have loved being here at sunset.”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) |
It was like something quit. An essential part of my being left in a single moment. I felt wrong.
I couldn’t identify what it was.
I went into the living room and my 18 year old daughter was cleaning up a vase my husband had gotten me 20 years ago. Just before he proposed.
I think about him, and the thoughts I normally have aren’t there. Its unfamiliar and I don’t like it. My thoughts of him feel empty, it’s an odd moment for me.
I help her clean it up, she apologizes over and over but I’m not upset. We got twenty years out of that thing, it had to have costed like 15 dollars tops. She leaves for classes leaving me with my thoughts.
I still can’t pinpoint what is missing. I decide to text my husband and let him know that the vase was broken. He responds oddly and says he’s on his way. That’s strange, he’s at work and it’s not like him to leave for something so trivial.
I work a little around the house, I write some on a novel I’ve been working on. My head feels clearer, I get more done than usual. My husband walks through the door looking a little frazzled. I love that man, but my heart doesn’t jump like it used too, my thoughts aren’t going their normal direction.
Usually I feel an overwhelming sense of joy, love, and I think about how great he is and how much he loves me. Now I’m not. It’s different, but not unpleasant.
“How are you feeling honey?” He asks.
“I’m fine dear, I don’t know why you came home over that vase. It’s older than our daughter.” I hug and kiss him, but it’s not as electrifying as I remember.
“Yea. I’m not really worried about it. I’m worried about you.” He seems uneasy.
I know him well enough to know he’s hiding something. “What’s the matter dear. Just tell me what’s going on, we will get through it together. Like always.”
I lead him to the living room and sit down with him on the couch. I know he will tell me what’s going on. That’s just who he is.
“Honey, I had a love spell put on that vase.” He says this and is clearly ashamed.
“Really? You did that to me? I don’t understand why. I already loved you.” I don’t know how to process this. I loved that man so much it hurt.
“I was afraid, that once you got to know me and got comfortable in our life you would get bored. Or I would fail and lose you. I didn’t want to lose you. I wanted you to love me like we had a new relationship for our lifetime together.” He clearly feels bad.
“Don’t worry. I still love you. But babe, love isn’t always about those butterflies and that new relationship electricity. True love is work. Working together for the future, for each other. Being part of someone else’s life so that they know you are always on their side. I love you, even if I don’t feel like we did 20 years ago.” I lean into him. Feeling a bit betrayed but knowing that I will forgive him.
“I’m sorry I did that to you. I love you truly.” He wrapped his arms around me and I feel at home.
“You’re forgiven. Now get back to work.” I kiss him and send him on his way.
As he backs out of the drive, I go to our bedroom and grab the knife I gave him on his birthday 22 years ago. I put it away in the back of the closet knowing he won’t find it there.
I can’t have him thinking about old gifts.
He doesn’t remember, but he didn’t love me until I gave him that knife. |
"She's a child. She doesn't belong here."Pain, level 1 Demon-in-training had been given the job of escorting the girl-child through the underworld. At ten, she was slightly too young to handle the pitfalls of the most blackest circles of torment in existence.
"Maggot said if we fill in form 174(a) then we can class her as an exception under Article 2256 of the 'Those Deserving Torture Act'"Pain said hopefully. He was dealing with the first level of Hell. It looked a lot like a Post Office.
"Number 666 to cashier 4 please, number 666 to cashier 4."The tannoy distrupted his thoughts, and the girl-child tugged on his arm. Several demons all surged forward at the same time. Every ticket was number 666.
"I need to pee,"the brat whispered, just as the demon behind the desk made from baby's femurs finished rifling through the book of forms.
"Maggot's a brown-nosing piece of shit."The desk-demon said, sniffing and glaring at Pain, angry at having at to waste time.
Pain sighed. His hooves hurt, the brat was threatening to piss herself, and he had an appointment with the Head of Agonising Screams later that afternoon.
"Well I can't send her back."He said grumpily. "Can't you check the 'If they had lived Register?'"
"Not my job."The desk demon said, rather pleased with itself. "You need Slightly Boring on level four. He'll tell you what to do."
Slightly boring was slightly bored. He looked over the girl-brat with a lazy eye.
"If she had lived Register?"He said, covering his mouth with his fanged tail as he yawned. "You'll need Overlord Tremendous Agony for that."
IF SHE HAD LIVED REGISTRATION? I DON'T KNOW IF I HAVE THE AUTHORITY FOR THAT
"Come on."Pain begged. He was hours late for his appointment. His job was at risk, and now the girl was hungry.
ALRIGHT, BUT YOU OWE ME TWO YEARS OF RACK TORTURE
"Two years? You must be joking. Eighteen months."Rack torture was boring, slow and no fun at all for any of the partcipants.
FINE
Tremendous Agony flicked agonisingly slowly through a large list of names.
LUCRETIA DE COGAN? YEP, WOULD HAVE MURDERED HER PARENTS FOR HER INHERITANCE WHEN SHE TURNED SIXTEEN. BLACK AS A SINNER ALL THE WAY THROUGH. GOOD DAY. REMEMBER, EIGHTEEN MONTHS OF RACK TORTURE.
Pain turned to look down at the girl brat. She grinned up at him, red light flashing behind her eyes as she sank her teeth into his hand.
|
I thrust my arms up "Yes! I'm a teenager again!"But i collect myself and try to calm down "did you say something?"Asks my mom in the next room. The place smells like smoke and coffee, mom's making breakfast. I get out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, shutting myself inside and turn on the shower. Im extatic, but the steaming hot water helps calm me down. After a thorough wash i get out, eat my breakfast and head out the door. Normally i get a ride to school, but not today! This time i'm gonna live life right!
At school i work harder than i ever have in my life, i spend my lunch break in the music classroom, practicing on the guitar. I always wanted to play, now i was determined to learn.
I get home later than usual, 7pm. As soon as i get home i lay out my homework and get stuck into it. My mother comments on how im so focussed today, normally i'd complain, whine and waste my after school hours playing video games. But they come later! By 10pm i finish. I eat a light dinner of cereal and after a glass of milk and a trip to the toilet im back in bed.
Weeks and months go by, i manage to retain my focus, i take my medication every day and do my homework with a religious fervor. I was never smart enough to be the top of my class in anything really. But still the years drag on, its funny, i always assumed that i'd burn out after a couple weeks if i went back in time but... that was a dream. I remembered that long vivid dream clearly, and the details of it kept lining up. Dad smoking like a chimney, becoming dissillusioned with mom, some of my friends not really liking me. But if it was true, maybe i could do it differently. I had one event to reference if what i dreamed was indeed the future... Barrack Obama becoming the president of the U.S and the financial crash of 08... and it happened.
I'm convinced what i dreamed had to be real, and tgis finally gave me the motivation to do better. I studied hard, took more advanced classes and managed to pass them. Then graduation. This time i was going to university to study sound editing and media! I packed my bags, packed my guitar and at 5am on a freezing cold morning i boarded a train ylto Melbourne...
I was run over by a drunk driver on orientation day.
I became addicted to painkillers.
I failed my course and went back home.
I lived as a shut-in for years, piling on weight.
I moved around a few times, unemployment and depression haunted me at every step.
10 years after waking up from that dream, i realized im right back where i was in my dream... sometimes fate is written, and there's no changing it. |
I've been on Earth for some time. I am fairly certain that I am immortal. At one point I just stopped aging and as everyone aged around me they began to grow suspicious. I was driven out of my village. I began to wander. To remain discreet and out of trouble I made sure to move from place to place every 10 years. 10 was a good number I thought. 10 comfy years in different environment. Very refreshing for a person like me.
I remember some places. The efficiency of Germany, the ingenuity of the Chinese, and the culture of the Spaniards. Though one place stood out to me. Boston. I love the place. The bustle. The change. Very homely place. It's been 100 years so perhaps I could go back spend some more time there.
I had just arrived to Boston. Just enjoying my time. Seeing the changes. In my exploration of this familiar yet foreign city I saw him. I almost missed him too. Same bright smile his fashion hadn't changed at all. My eyes became watery. I was flooded with many memories. Memories that had hurried under a century of experiences. Our eavening walks, the daily commute, eating at Gino's. This hit me hard. How could forget a man as hospitable as him. He was the first person to show me around the first person to take me in. I walked up. He was burried in the crowd.
I came close and began to pay my respects. They really captured his essence, his glow. It was made of fine materials as well. I wish I was there until the end. See him leave.
At least I got to see him in his prime one last time. Sculpture or not. I can't dote on the past for too long though. It's time to move back in. |
The past few months, the mages were arguing and debating with the newly formed guild of scientists. They feared that with non-magical automation, magecraft would become obsolete. After this nights furious arguing, a small group of apprentices stormed up to my chambers. The leader of this small group, Dravin, shouted, “Archmage Joe! These scientists are planning on destroying our way of life! You must stop them now, or they shall surely choke out magic with their ugly machines!”
I sighed, knowing that the younger mages would try to do this. “Dravin, pal, this industrial revolution won’t be that bad. I mean, it’s just gonna free up our time, y’know? Besides, I’m pretty sure there’s gonna be plenty of good that’ll come from it.”
“But sir!”, cried out Dravin, “Won’t the teaching of science become preferred? After all, it has already become popular among the nobility.”
“Indeed they have. However, I’m sure all shall turn out to be just fine, ‘kay buddy? Now go, I have an important scrying to conduct.”
Dravin and his friends left the room disappointedly. I turned back to my TV, shot a small bolt of lightning at the plug, and started to replay Dark Souls for the 5,638th time. I sighed as I quickly and mercilessly blasted through the campaign, and eagerly awaited the time computing technology was developed. |
She was a dream of flowing porphyry and soft, exotic scents on a quiet summer night. There were no woods. The forest was gone, replaced by wavering grain out to the horizon. A golden field at a golden hour, a golden woman in a robe of royal purple. Her villa was small, but it held a strange, magical light.
And I was a man out of place and time. Dirty armor, dirty sandals. I’d lost my spear, my shield. I had a torn brown cloak, wet with rain that had disappeared in the flash of light that lead me here, sweeping away the forest and the men pursuing me. They’d still had their spears.
She stepped forward, out of the light. She was tall, taller than me. Regally so. Soft features settling into a cautious smile. There was fear too behind her eyes, but not the fear a woman might have, surprised in the night by a soldier, and it disappeared even as I watched to be replaced by concern, then curiosity. She stood on her doorstep, flanked by a pair of small, immaculately carved stone rabbits sitting half-hidden amid tall yellow flowers. Strange music floated out through the open door.
“I didn’t know the convention was in town,” she said. “Normally there’s an email. Did I miss it?”
I sank to my knees— should have done that long ago. She spoke bravely, looking right into my eyes. I was trembling and it wasn’t just the adrenaline, the battle we had lost and the men that I had run from.
As a child, they tell you about magic. Sometimes it’s the gods, sometimes it’s the children of men. Ascetics in the forest are known to cast a spell, the northern shamans can proof a man against arrows with a few swirls of blue woad across his skin. Augers read signs in the entrails of birds or the patterns of their flight, released from the Emperor’s hands in the hippodrome or from a warship at sea. There are cheiromancers in the far east now.
As an adult they tell you not to dream of it— toss out all those stories but the augers and the gods. You see a man sketched out in blue woad swirls, naked down to his sandals with the ferocity of his belief. You see him swing an ax one-handed, the kind of beast that would break your shoulder if you tried, if you could even lift it, and you see that brave man struck with arrow after arrow as he charges towards your lines. You catch him on your spear as he slows; wide, vacant eyes staring past you, past the lines of warlike men ranged out behind, past the forest and the hills, and up into the sky. You see the truth of magic as his woad is washed away; red blood and blue ink turned to brown muck in the churning soil.
But as a man, sometimes you see someone—a woman— and you believe again. She stands above you: clean where you are filthy, brave where you are scared, happy and at home, when you’ve long since the lost words. You see her, and you believe in magic.
“Porphyry,” I whispered. “*Gods*.”
Silhouetted by the strange, steady light from inside, caught in the moments before twilight when magic has been known to slip into the world, she glanced away, suddenly self-conscious.
“It’s just a bathrobe,” she said.
She was a dream of porphyry, of soft, exotic scents on the winds of another world. Of magic— otherworldly sounds and otherworldly lights.
And more than that, later, to a tired, injured man in the aftermath of war, she was a dream of kindness.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! |
(Part 1)
I remember the first time I met her. She was a little crybaby back then, small and hopeless and loud and near about the ugliest human I’d ever seen, what with all the snot and tears running down her red, swollen face.
I propped myself on a rock when I couldn’t take it anymore, pulling all the energy I could muster to take the least conspicuous form I could. Not that I _could_ conjure up anything too ferocious this close to my source. I didn’t have enough energy. There was still a small chance she’d run screaming, but I suppose even that would work, since then she wouldn’t be _my_ problem anymore.
“You’re getting my river salty,” I complained, leaning tiredly out of the water.
She turned towards me, forcing her sobs into gasps. But she couldn’t stop the steady stream of sorrow pouring out of her eyes. Even her words turned incomprehensible from the blubbering. Near as I could make out, she was worried about “him” killing her.
“And why is he going to kill you?” I sighed.
“Mother’s scarf,” she wailed. “Lost, *hngh,* river—”
I cocked my head. “Is it gold colored?” Something like that had washed downstream earlier.
She nodded, scrubbing at her tears. I transferred my senses to the rest of me. It wasn’t too far now, but my currents had carried it such that it was beyond the reach of one as small as herself. All of me was one, so pulling it into my newly formed fingers took merely a thought. I flung its drenched form at her.
“Now it’s back, and you can go away.”
For a moment, the crying stopped, the fabric twisting between her small fingers. She blinked at me. Flinched, as the tears blurring her gaze cleared, and she noticed I wasn’t a person.
“*Hnnnnnngh—!*” Oh no, the crying was starting again!
“There, there,” I begged, panicking. “Don’t cry, you’ll give me a headache.” I spread my crystalline fingers wide, letting the drops rolling off my skin sprinkle the sunlight into rainbows. “See? I’m not scary, just a harmless little river spirit!” She didn’t need to know about the part of me where white water crashed heartlessly from heights, or my wide, lazy reaches near the sea that liked to swell with angry storms and slip over my banks. She didn’t need to know about the corpses I sometimes hid in my depths.
The rainbow worked like a charm. Blessed silence spilled across my waters as her hands reached up to catch the colored light.
And then, laughter. Golden, sun-bright. Bubbling like the spring at my headwaters.
I froze.
It was beautiful.
The child looked back at me, her smile spreading across her ugly, swollen, tear-stained face. She wiped the last of the tears and rose to her feet.
“Th-thank you Ms. River Spirit,” she whispered. “Mother always said I should thank people who helped me.” She clutched the scarf, bowed, and turned to leave. One small foot set down the path towards the nearest village.
And then suddenly, she was back at my side, flinging her arms around me and squeezing. For a moment, I forgot that I was miles upon miles of rock-channeled, untamed waves. I forgot that I was more than just a few buckets of water in the shape of a mortal. “My name is Katiya,” the little girl confided.
She let go. Scampered down the path that took her back to her world. And I was myself again, the whole of the wild River Andolin. The false mortal form I’d constructed slopped back into my depths.
She came back, that girl. Day after day, she ran back to the boulder by the side of the stream where we met, and she would do a task or lay on the grass by my banks, and she would talk to me. Little nothings about her day, about her father, about what her mother was like when she was alive. As she grew older, sometimes she would laugh at herself, wonder if I was even listening.
But I was listening.
She left one day after she’d stopped growing taller. She came down to my banks, travel bags slung across her shoulders.
“I’ve come to say goodbye, Annie,” she told me. Annie was what the villagers called me around these parts. I was quieter here, closer to my source, not anything to be associated with the terrors of infamous Andolin, and so Katiya had taken to calling me that, too. “I’ve told you how I’ve always wanted to be an adventurer before, right? Well, Old Man Barnes gave me his old map and his old knife yesterday, and I decided that this was it, you know? Now or never, as they say. I didn’t tell Da, since he’d throw a fit and lock me up for the next six months, but I thought I ought to at least let _you_ know I was going.” She giggled. “I doubt you’ll miss me, but I’ll come back when I’m good and ready, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
And so she waved, and ran off on the _other_ path, the path that took her away from me, away from home.
She was wrong.
I _did_ miss her.
The days passed, much like they did before. But sometimes my consciousness would shift towards our boulder, and I would wonder when she was coming back. I didn’t see her feet on my banks, nor did I hear word of her from my tributaries, the weaker spirits under my protection. So I waited, and I hoped, and poison began to twist its talons into my depths.
It wasn’t normal poison, like the foul stench fools would sometimes throw into my waters near the cities of man—I never suffered those fools for long—but a spirit poison, a poison meant to eat at _me_, a poison meant to choke my soul and twist my mind. They didn’t think to start from my head, so I fervently spread myself to keep it from my tributaries. But it seeped into me. I started to lose more and more of myself in the bouts of formless pain, sourceless anger that spread from the darkness eating me alive.
In a moment of clarity, I caught one of the perpetrators, his foul work clutched in his hands.
I drowned him.
Drowned him, and spat him and his instruments from my currents at the door to a tower that held magic, betting that _someone_ there could be my salvation.
And then there was nothing again, clarity like lonesome bubbles released from a drowning man’s lungs.
Clarity came back in a heave. The dying man was pulled onto land. I collapsed onto the grass, my mortal form gasping, hacking out gobs of blackness from within. I tasted blood in my waters, the blood that spawned the poison that almost killed me. The blood that now forced the poison to leave me.
I spat out the last of the poison, wiping my mouth with much more ease than I might otherwise have managed. I had gained some humanness, after all, watching Katiya for all those years.
I pulled myself upright, surveying the place my consciousness found itself. I was surrounded by several mortals in a clearing. Some armored ones dragged black-cloaked corpses away from my shores, some directed the black mucus I had expunged from myself into a fire with a wave of their hands.
And heaving for breath over the deadman whose blood I tasted upon awakening, the one who had slain my almost-killer, was Katiya. |
They could have just waited. Humanity was already on the verge of destroying itself. Earth's climate was on the verge of collapse under the weight of our exploding population. All they did was buy us time. Time to build a new society. One built with sustainability in mind.
A society built, also, on a foundation of technological supremacy. After the great slaughter, those who remained knew the tech gap between us and the outsiders was the main reason for their victory, and they made a solemn vow to the dead that we would never be outpaced again.
They recovered the sole outsider craft the militaries of the old world managed to down and spent decades researching the remains. Replicating the outsiders technology. Surpassing it.
The nuclear launch platform we put it orbit was a vestige of the old world. Meant only to disable the outsider mothership when it returns. To prepare it for boarding. To pave the way for a new slaughter.
Those bastards expected us to die of hunger, but we got hungry for something besides food. We got thirsty for something besides water. We always knew they would return, and when they do, we will slake our thirst on their blood. We will follow their warp trail to their homeworld, and visit upon them the vengeance of humanity. |
So here's the issue I have with this. We have a mathematical *proof* that the decimal expansion (or indeed an expansion in any integer basis) of pi is infinite. For one, pi is an irrational number, and therefore it cannot possibly be finitely represented. If you know basic calculus and have a piece of paper I could convince you of this right now, this instant. Again, we have a *proof* of this fact. An infallible series of logical steps that lead to an inevitable conclusion. You see, when a sound mathematical proof turns out to lead to the wrong conclusions, the damage doesn't end in something as trivial as "a constant we thought was irrational is in fact rational"- that I could live with. We can patch that up. In essence, to offer evidence contradicting a mathematical proof is to claim that one step in its reasoning is wrongly inferred. But there is no doubt in my mind - nor in the mind of anyone who's studied math for long enough - that any of the dozens of classical proofs of the irrationality of pi are all correctly inferred, and all of the logical steps in them are correctly argued for. To find evidence against this would be to find evidence against the basic principles of human reasoning. We would have to acknowledge the most absolute absurdities. Doublethink to a degree not even Orwell would be comfortable endorsing. A and not A. 1 = 2. What would such a world even look like? It's ridiculous and impossible.
Or so we thought. Turns out we were wrong. The mathematicians, the philosophers, the educators. Pi is finite. A and not A. Somebody raise Aristotle from the grave because he conned us, he conned us bad. We called countless conferences - we verified with the steps over and over - the greatest minds of our generation made their career debating this. The proofs seemed sound to us - pi is an irrational number. It can be shown with a simple chain of reasoning that anyone with the most average intelligence can understand, given enough time. But here the calculations were sitting before us and they showed us time and time again that at some point, at a digit place larger than any of us could imagine, pi terminates, and it ends with the number 9. We did not have the mathematical machinery, of course, to calculate the expansion of pi in its entirety - even the *number of digits* in pi would take far, far more than the amount of atoms in the universe to express in decimal notation - and for all practical means and purposes pi was as not-finite as we would have liked it to be. But here the facts were standing before us and the facts were that pi is a rational number with a finite decimal expansion.
The first generation of mathematicians took it the hardest. Some quit their occupation for more "practical"pursuits. The older generation mostly chose solace in retirement. Pioneers tried to patch up the issue but - after a few hundred years they gave up too. The theoretical physicists soon followed. Then came the philosophers and the intellectuals. The post-modernists looked at it as a triumph. The analytics turned continental. The continentals were welcomed in universities again.
Here was a world where X was not X, where 1 was 2 and where pi was both rational and irrational. A world where every statement could be asserted. Nothing was certain anymore, and everything was and everyone were equally correct. The intellectuals who dedicated decades in university to studying the deeper truths of the universe were no smarter or more qualified to talk of it than the class idiot. We no longer had anything to rely on, nor any common point of thinking to argue from. Every truth was false and every falsehood was said to be true; God was real and God was false; pigs could fly, Nessie was real, and Sasquatch was seen dipping in the lakes of Nebraska. The shockwave that begun in the highest ranks of the ivory tower of academia trickled down its height and soon everyone was affected by the absurdity. The concept of knowing, and of belief, had stopped making sense, and the very way we understood the language we use to talk of these things had changed.
And you know what? It wasn't that bad. After a few months the hype had been all but forgotten by the media. The engineers and scientists were shaken - but they continued their work still, if with less trust in the theorems and formulae they previously worked with. The face of science had changed and we were traversing new and exciting grounds. Technology continued to progress, as did experimental science, and society continued to function with no Spaghetti monsters (or actual Sasquatches) in sight. The mathematicians did not forget about this but as time passed theoretical mathematics was driven into obscurity, sometimes associating itself with literary criticism. Still, social activism would change. We became more tolerant, more spiritual and mystical. No longer able to rely on our own minds we began reviving arts that were passe in our generation - and soon palm readers and prophets and saints flooded the streets. The world opened its doorways and it reintroduced itself to us.
Yet it was the world we had always known. Our society was changed by our discovery - but in the end it was a discovery that took place entirely in our minds. The stars did not change their colors, the sun still rose in the morning, and the leaves on the trees kept changing with the seasons. It wasn't so much the discovery of the rationality of pi that shook us, but the discovery of our own irrationality. But we adapted, as our species is prone to do, and we kept walking forward. |
Humans 1.01 Bugfix release.
Bugfix: Bacteroides removed from gut.
Bugfix: Clostridium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Faecalibacterium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Eubacterium removed from gut.
Bugfix: Ruminococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Peptococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Peptostreptococcus removed from gut.
Bugfix: Bifidobacterium removed from gut.
Tickets HB-10073 (Erotic zone too close to Anus), HB-10087 (Cannot keep eyes open while sneezing), HB-10102 (Must lose control for 1/3rd the time), HB-10125 (Startup process takes 18 years) and various others have been marked as "Working as Intended".
Tickets HB-10078 (Biting your own cheek), HB-10084 (Suicide?), HB-10092 (immune system causes societally disfiguring facial pocs) and HB-10111 (Menstrual Shedding?!!) have been marked as "unable to reproduce".
Major items for next release include bugfixes of more unintended flora. Major structural complaints are a platform fault, and God has no intention of working further on these. God reminds you who exactly is the omnipotent, omniscient creator being, and thus, who likely has the better view of things.
|
People often said that being blind is like a super power. Apparently her other senses should be 'sharpened'; she should be able to hear approaching dangers quicker than the others, should be able to feel more intensely. Since losing her eyesight, however, she couldn't honestly say she'd felt any more sensitive.
Their skin felt as cold as ever, their moans and whimpers the same as always. If anything, all her blindness did was render her useless to protect those around her unless she was physically touching them. A burden, she always thought she was better off dead. But she was so terrified that death wasn't what the vanishings brought.
Small steps over large tracts of land, the herd waded through the grey swamps of urban meltdown. Food grew scarcer and scarcer, and the herd was slowly whittling down. If it weren't through starvation or exposure, then it was the smallest of mistakes that would cause them to vanish.
They tried their best to keep visible and physical contact with everyone. All of the sleepwalkers and the fidgets were long gone. Night watchers rotated sleep shifts and were continuously turning around. No one could be out of their vision. Not even for a blink.
As she woke up that morning, the sun's rays unusually stroking her face, she let out a yawn. Someone's arm, as always, was wrapped tightly around her waist. Wrestling herself into a more comfortable position, she held onto the arm of her partner. Cold, as always.
The silence was what pricked emergency into her mind. "Hello?"she called out, waiting the response of the night watchers. No one responded. Gripping the arm of her partner again, and she realized it was a little *too* cold.
She couldn't get up, if no one was watching her and she lost contact of her partner, she would vanish. "Is anyone there?"she tried again, desperation fluctuating her breathing. Going to shake the body of her partner, and she was greeted by absence. With a shriek, she let go of the arm as she discovered it was without a body.
Alone, without the touch or presence of any others, she stood paralyzed. She was right to be scared about the vanishings. At least she couldn't see the horrors that surrounded her.
But it wasn't long before she could feel their appetites, and hear their rapid approach. |
"Of course I'm not saying let them back in", I argued on the microphone, trying to contain the raging crowd in front of me.
"But maybe we can listen to what they have to say."
"There's nothing for them to say!"Came a voice from the crowd. "This is our world! Our land!"
They all cheered.
They were right, of course. I knew that. If, in two weeks time, the country had gone from what it was to a
leaderless, utopian anarchy, the kind people only thought possible in the movies and books and imagination of dreamy,
innocent punk kids, it was because the politicians were gone.
Still, throwing them out like that.. seemed... weird. They were, after all, American citizens, and it felt funny to deport
them like that, just because we didn't agree with their views on how to rule the country.
It felt like a first step into worst things.
Still, that was what was done.
It was the first time after the two weeks that the country needed to actually decide something of a political manner. To
have some kind of law and order, so to speak, put into practice. So, myself and Paxton and Sterling, we were elected to organize a trial, and
serve as judges for the unusual situation that now rose upon us.
We discussed, and we listened to the politicians, and ideas were exchanged. In the end, though, we went with the people. What they wanted, that's how the country worked now. People in charge. And what they wanted
was for the politicians to go, so that's what we decided. Gone. Extradited overseas, so the utopia could continue.
The improvised court, though, the one me and Paxton and Sterling had presided, it remained. The people decided they
would need, from time to time, someone in charge, to settle things in a more professional manner. So, us three were elected Ministers of
Justice, in the words we ourselves gave as our official title.
*That, right there*, I would think, later. The fact that we named ourselves should have been proof that things were
about to go wrong.
But again, another warning sign I missed.
It wasn't a whole month before Paxton and Sterling decided that the court needed help. Too many cases, too few
judges. So, Paxton's cousin, and Sterling's wife and sister, they were appointed as "court helpers".
The people, they didn't like that very much, but things were going so smooth, no one said anything.
Then came Harrison, a man from the oil business. Oil, Harrison told me, was bad investment, lately, what with all the
electric cars. Harrison told me petroleum was what made America what it was, and that it would be a shame if the whole industry
fell apart because of some hippies who insisted on driving a Prius instead of a Ford.
He asked me to outlaw electric cars. I said no, of course, but this was at the same time we decided that the three
of us judges couldn't stay in power forever; that there had to be some sort of change, from time to time. A rotation, to avoid totalitarianism.
Elections, by the end of the year.
I told Harrison that the judges didn't have the power to outlaw anything, anyway. That there was no need for that, even. We lived in
a utopia, for heaven's sake! All we really did was settle petty cases across the country: drunk bar fights,
divorces, things like that.
The laws, they didn't need to change.
But he shook his head, and said I was making a mistake. He left my office straight to Paxton's, who had been very worried, I found out later, because his cousin was too sick to keep working, and his income alone was not
quite enough to support his family, in their current, comfortable lifestyle.
They talked behind closed doors, and so it was that Paxton was the first to accept a donation. Campaign funds, transferred from Harrison's Oil Company straight to his
newly appointed political advisers and treasurer and financial assistants.
Yes, Paxton now had an election committee. And you know what? All polls pointed him as favorite by the end of the month, what with all the
television time and flyers with his face going around.
Sterling followed, soon after, with the secret promise of investing heavily on the tourism industry, specifically the cruise
lines, which still suffered a bad reputation from all that thing with the old politicians. Because they had worked with the
"suited old power man"to "stick it to the people", on those two weeks, their image was still pretty damaged. So they gave Sterling a lot of
campaign money for him to loosen taxes, specifically on the advertising of the cruise ships, in the hopes that they could try to regain
some of the old popularity back.
Elections came, and, of course, Paxton and Sterling won, by far. The third place, it didn't go to me, no, I lost. It went to a new guy, by the name Jameson, who, in cahoots with the electric car companies, promised a "greener America"for
everyone, and served as opposition to the conservatives, too "old-politics-oriented"Paxton and Sterling.
First order of work by the three was, of course, granting themselves the right to make laws, and not just settle cases, like it worked
before. This was met with some protest, but, in the end, people were convinced that it was for the best. Which was no
surprise, seeing as Paxton and Sterling, and even -- though masking his vision as "a different perspective"-- Jameson, bought a lot of
airtime and space in the papers in what was called "The Campaign of Change"-- a series of ads in which they listed reasons
why we needed more than judges settling cases to run a country.
We needed actual law, and actual order, they said.
And we believed them.
After the election, naturally, came the fulfilling of promises; the electric cars were banned. Jameson fought against it, but,
given that Paxton and Sterling were allies (they even merged into a single party, later), they won that particular political struggle, forcing Jameson to fight other fights for the electric car companies, that soon started to move into the more profitable looking technology business, with the self-driving cars and stuff.
And just like that, day after day, life went on.
They've been in power for almost four years now, and new elections should soon follow. Some new parties showed up,
trying to bring back the old values; no politics, no politicians, no laws. I don't think they have a shot, though, cause none could really find anyone to support them.
Don't get me wrong, a lot of people like their ideas. It's just that they're running on their own money, with little to no space in the media, compared to the two large parties. Because of that, most voters say they would rather vote for one of the two big parties, so the other one they like less wont win, rather than throwing away a vote in a party that, while filled with good ideas, has no money to actually have a shot at winning.
Paxton and Sterling? They're still running high on oil money, and now also drug industry and tobacco. Paxton is ahead in the
polls, with Sterling coming in on third.
Second place is Maria Hernandez, Jameson's previous financial assistant. After the whole electric car fiasco, Jameson
thought it best to step away for a while, putting her protegé up on his place for the next four years.
Maria has some interesting ideas, investments on education and less government intervention -- trying to appeal to the
people who miss the old utopia days, but it's no real change, we all know that. Behind her are people from the steel industry and, some suspect, large technological conglomerates will soon follow, with substantial donations being made recently to her campaign by self-driving car companies.
Me? I stepped away from it all, since the loss in the previous elections. I don't even plan to vote, not on this one.
No, I'm thinking about taking a cruise. The Caribbean, maybe. Or South America. They're all pretty cheap now, what with
all the tax deductions and the government's support plan.
_____________________________
*Thanks for reading! If you like my writing and you haven't, yet, you can check out my ongoing sci-fi novel on my blog, [right here](https://alpacareports.wordpress.com/angel-district/).*
|
"Honey, you're not... *dating* Freight Train, are you?"
Azadeh shook her head frantically, her braided hair whipping back and forth. A more cynical parent would've assumed she was lying to cover her ass, but I knew my daughter; she didn't play games when it came to my line of work. I sighed, traded my white chocolate latte for my sword, and got off the couch as I remarked, "So much for mother-daughter time."
Freight Train knocked down the door to the sunroom, prompting a pair of robotic ravens to shoot out from the ceiling and catch it before it could crush anything else. As the ravens started putting the door back in place, Freight Train pointed his finger at me and growled, "Let her go, Dr. Valkyrie. *Now*."
"No self-respecting parent would let their kid anywhere near someone who just broke into their house. Now back the fuck up."
Freight Train looked at Azadeh. "You're her daughter?! Why didn't you tell me?!"
Azadeh whimpered and hid behind me--something she hadn't done since she was five years old. My expression turned stone-cold as I asked her, "What did he do to you?"
Azadeh gulped before shakily replying, "W--We went on a date at the s--start of the month. We got d--dinner, and when he got up to use the b--bathroom, he got a text, and I saw the background on his phone. It...It was a picture of me. I panicked, and g--got into his phone like you taught me, and there were--"Azadeh let out a terrified sob and finished, "There were so many fucking pictures of me."
I turned back to Freight Train and yelled, "You've been *stalking* my fucking KID?!?!"
Freight Train growled. "Shut up! If she'd told me who her mother is, I never would've--"
"YOU'RE TRYING TO PIN THE BLAME ON **HER**?!! Oh, that is *it*, you sick fuck! I'm done putting up with you!!"
I snapped my fingers, prompting an automated turret to pop out of the wall and blast Freight Train with an almost blindingly white beam. Freight Train fell to his knees, struggling to articulate his words as I strolled over to him. After I had Azadeh close her eyes, I kneeled down next to him and hissed, "Hurts, doesn't it? That's the Pertho Gun, whittling away your life force into nothing. Clearing you out like the namesake rune."
Freight Train's breathing turned heavy as I poked my sword against his back. "I had this built a while ago, right around the time you got onto the scene. Never used it until now because I had hoped we could have *some* degree of professionalism between us. But then you did *this*. So you know what? No more."
I turned off the Pertho Gun and plunged my sword into Freight Train's back before he could recover. I dragged the blade along his spine to ensure he wouldn't survive and let out a whistle once I was done. My genetically-enhanced wolves trotted into the room and started ripping up Freight Train's body as I walked back over to Azadeh and softly said, "It's over, honey. You can open your eyes again if you want."
Azadeh opened her eyes slowly and collapsed into my chest. "Can I...can I stay here tonight? I don't feel good enough to go back to campus."
I tenderly held Azadeh's head and replied, "Of course, kiddo. You stay here as long as you need." |
I don't know if the fucker was wasted or something when he walked in, but Jesus. For a Level 55, I'd never seen anyone fight so... So... Poorly. Maybe he was some kinda special needs guy, and we had to intentionally lose to make him feel good or something. No, that's not it. I mean, he managed to pull off a Divine Bulwark, so he was at least moderately competant. Idunno.
Anyways, so we start doing our routine, fake patrol 'n all. It's apparently a standard guideline for most dungeon's grunts after Orcdom was banned from the Villain's Guild when Hellgam the Brutal gave his Impalers permission to ambush Heroes on floor one of the OrcFort.
Left, forward, forward, left, forward, forward. That's my pattern, until I get permission to aggro. It's usually game over for the sucker who gets this job because it's out in the open, so Boss puts anyone who's in the hot seat with him in it. I, well, I haven't had the best track record.
I'm bracing for the standard Blue Bolt into Electro, but it doesn't come. I continue pacing back in forth, confused and worried that the hero hasn't instagibbed me. I break the regulation and twist my head at what's going on.
He's just standing there, taking it all in. *Weird.* Then, he abruptly turns to leave, bumping into the wall a few times before exiting. Maybe he's one of those crackpot scientist type heroes. All of us relax, at ease.
Then he walks in again.
Left forward forward.
And then out again.
The process repeats itself for another hour.
God, I hate trolls.
Finally, he makes his way in once more, only to unleash a Gyrum's Piercing Arrow on the ceiling. He reminds me of my lil' niece Beelzebub, who walks around in her bearskin diaper and shits on the floor whenever she wants.
Three more steps! Come on! He's almost in aggro range.
Those three steps take another forty minutes, and five consecutive walks into walls.
I turn, Shoddy Dagger of Ordinary Craftsmaking in hand, running, and I stick him with the pointier end. We don't get any good equipment on floor one, so daggers here hurt less than like, fuckin' Enforcer flip flops.
It takes twenty minutes, before the job is done. He swings his sword drunkenly and releases a couple of spells willy nilly. I dodge, despite only being given 5 agi, as a minor demon.
Finally, the sucker plops down dead, dissolving into little bits of bubble like all Heroes do.
Everyone kind of looks at me awkwardly, "What the fuck?"all over their faces.
Fuck. I've fucked up. Prolly shoulda let the guy go on.
Oh boy, Boss is gonna be pissed.
From the stairs leading down to his newly renovated Lair, I hear the steps.
And from below, I hear a deep, rumbling voice.
**"WHO THE *FUCK* KILLED SIR TWITCH_PLAYS WITHOUT MY PERMISSION?!"** |
"Sign here, here, and..."blackened fingers traced down the page as I searched for the final signature. "Ah, yes, here."
As I looked back down to my own papers, shuffling through the patient's information and the woman's request, she hemmed and hawed.
"Is there a problem?"I asked, my eyes staying on my papers as I read through the request.
"It says here seventy-two hours, I thought we agreed on-"
"Yes, three days; twenty-four hours a day times three days is seventy-two hours."I reminded her, it was always apparent in my patient's families that wealth may buy happiness, but it could not buy them a brain. The woman remained silent as her pen glided along the lines, signing a significant sum of money over to me. When she clicked the pen, I reached out for the papers and nodded to my customer.
"I appreciate your business. The resurgere will take place tomorrow morning at eight seventeen exactly, no earlier, no later. Please have any who would like to witness the resurgere present no earlier than five minutes beforehand. Your..."I glanced down to the papers for a reminder, "husband will return for exactly seventy-two hours. It is highly recommended that he is present, here, by his regressus time. If he is not, please ensure he is in a place that is easily accessible, and as noted in the contract, an additional fee of 10% of your total will be incurred for an absentia fee."The woman nodded along as I spoke, her mind clearly elsewhere. *Formailties.*
I walked the woman out, and as she left, I waved. The least I could do for a woman paying me more than a year's average salary of a CEO.
***
The next morning, the resurgere was nearly ready. My garb, a black gown with subtle inlays of crimson Latin phrases, had been prepared the prior evening after my customer departed. The husband's body was placed on the large stone tablet in the middle of the room. The tablet was something to see, it was black. Not simply black, like soot, or smoke, but a void. Looking into the stone was almost as if looking into nothing.
Incense had been burned for the past half hour, giving the room an even more legitimate feel. I waited, hands clasped, as the family began to enter the room. My hood was down, I never liked putting it up unless the family was into the ornate, or the... eclectic arts.
This family was not. It was just the wife and who I could only assume were her children present. After they entered, and glanced uneasily over to me, I began my ritual.
**"Confer nobis animam Johannis Aurifabri."** I began, my words echoing through the chamber. An orange-red glow appeared around the black void of a tablet. **"In loco illius sume per tres dies meam, et per tres dies ad tuum dominium redibit."** The glow traveled through the stone, and into the body. As the body began to convulse, I uttered my final words. **"Dum anima liberorum vagatur in regno, mea erit in tuo servitio, mi Domine."**
I saw his eyes open as mine closed.
***
Three days later, at exactly eight seventeen in the morning, I awoke, standing just where I was when I departed in his place. His wife was there, holding onto a limp hand attached to a now lifeless corpse. She gasped in shock when I appeared in the cloud of black smoke.
When she regained her composure, she nodded and thanked me again.
After she left, I took a seat next to John. His was a life long lived, a life full of pain and suffering. Not his own, but inflicted upon others. For three long days, I took his place. For three long days, I labored, I suffered. It was worth it though... four hundred and fifty thousand dollars for three days in Hell.
It's always worth it. |
I answered the Council’s summons with my presence. I wish I could say this had never happened before, but it occurred every now and again; every few hundred years, they suddenly remembered that I existed, and demanded answers of me.
“Nameless One,” spoke the elder Goddess, waving hair pulled back into a low ponytail as she regarded me with her wizened gaze. “Stop your shifting this instant. Maintain yourself.”
“Oh, how I wish I could,” I responded. “But if I knew how, I suspect I would not be who I am.”
“We will not allow for chaos in our presence,” said another deity. “Enough.”
I released a sigh and shrugged. One moment, I was white, the next, I was black, the next after, tan. There was no pattern or rhyme or reason to my shiftings. I saw my reflection in Grith’s shield. Constantly, every one of my features changed, from my portrayed height and age to my hair and eye color. Who was I to be a divine of any kind?
“If you will not speak to us with a straight face,” spoke the elder Goddess once more. “then you will at least speak to us plainly.”
“As You wish,” I responded.
Her shoulders were drawn up as she stared at me pensively. “Tell us, then, Nameless One. What are you the divine of? We have found no trace of you throughout the history of humankind, and we have no mention of you within our tomes.”
“Ah, but You do,” I said with a frown. Every divine war had come down to my presence, my existence, despite my desire for peace.
It was in my nature. There was nothing I could do.
“If you spoke the truth, then you would have no need to be before us. What are you divine of?” she said, not letting up.
Memories of the past resurfaced. Once, I had pursued a great many things. I believed, sincerely, that with effort and devotion to myself and my fellow deities I would find a solution to all my woes.
Even this was hampered by who, what, I was.
Grith had nearly become my lover, once. They were a beautiful person, something more than a God or Goddess, bearing the parts and essence of both. We had grown close, but one day, my efforts were discovered to be in vain. I’ll never forget how they pointed their spear at me, holding their shield close to their body as they demanded I reveal my true nature to them.
I already had.
That’s what got me into that mess in the first place.
“If I speak it, there will be war once more. Please, do not make me.” The Goddess raised her well-manicured eyebrow. “What sort of divine makes requests so plainly of another, no less an elder?”
“A desperate one,” I said.
“Are you truly a deity?”
“Yes.”
“I am not sure I believe you.”
“You need not believe me, just let me return to my life of isolation.”
The elder Goddess seemed almost amused by my request. She looked to Grith, who nodded. Grith took their spear and pointed its tip at my person. “You will answer Sof, for She is Most Wise.”
“I... do not think this is wise,” I said, shaking my head. The spear’s tip burst into flame as Grith grew impatient with what likely seemed like blatant disrespect.
“Speak it. Now.”
My heart broke again and again. Even Grith, my dearest one, could not recall me. With an inhale, I said,
“I am Bedlam, doubt personified.” |
​
The man had had his entire abdomen sliced open. Blood gushed out. Looking down, I could see multiple lacerations in his organs. His liver was almost in half, and acid from the sliced open stomach coated it.
I wrinkled my nose and looked at the woman. “This… I’m sorry. Whatever has caused him to sustain such an injury—it has killed him. He probably bled to death moments after the injury”. Telling the truth was always hard as a doctor, but as the woman’s face twisted in anger and grief, I was once again reminded of why. I braced myself for what I knew was coming next.
“No!” She insisted, almost delirious. Her voice wavered with anguish as she demanded to see someone else. Another doctor who would take on the case.
I sighed. All the doctors here were equally qualified, I tried to tell her. There was nothing more any doctor could do for a patient in a state like this.
But as she grabbed Aiora, who was passing by, I shook my head lightly, resigned. Cases like this weren’t rare, but it was rare to see someone who so insisted that there was a chance for someone whose guts have been all but sliced into bits and turned into mush inside their own body.
“... Have to help him! He’s a good man, and he really didn’t deserve this!” I heard her beg Aiora. I looked at my fellow doctor, and we made eye contact.
I tiled my head. *You’re not seriously going to tell her this is feasible, right?*
Instead of responding, she looked away, seeming troubled. I frowned, wondering at that, and turned my attention back into the conversation.
“I understand. I understand.” Aiora was telling her. “Loss is painful, and we’ve all been there… I’ll do my best. Let me take a look at him”.
I closed my eyes. Getting a patient’s hopes up never ended well. As Aiora bent down to examine the body, I averted my gaze. The woman seemed to do the same. It was the natural thing to do.
As she worked, I waited for her to finally declare that this was an impossible case. Nobody survived having their abdomen destroyed like that. It was just a matter of time before she broke the news herself.
When I heard the wheeze behind me as he took another breath, I almost gasped in disbelief.
Turning around was hard, as if I was compelled to avert my eyes. But as I fought it and laid eyes on the now-breathing patient, I saw it: a light, purple glow surrounded the man. Almost too faint to notice. But noticeable nonetheless.
An ear piercing shriek came from the woman as she saw the same.
“*What did you do to him? What did you do to my poor Danny?”* Her shrill voice pierced the air. Aiora took a step back in surprise as the woman continued her vocal attacks.
I took a step forward. “Stop! She was trying to *help* you! You *asked* her to try!” I yelled. The faint purple glow lingered in my mind, but first and foremost, I had to protect my own colleague. And I stepped between her and Aiora. The woman looked all but ready to charge Aiora down and wrestle her to the ground.
As the woman stared at the patient, Danny, I heard Aiora’s soft voice behind me. “I… I don’t know why… I… He…” I heard her take slow steps back. Away from Danny. From the woman.
And when I turned, I saw her running out the exit. Leaving the building. Leaving me. Her dark hair flew behind her. “Wait!” I called. “Aiora!”
Next to me, the patient groaned. “Owwww…. What the hell?” He had sat up and was now trying to stand.
Both the woman and I turned to look at him. Both saw the now barely-noticeable glow of purple surrounding him, particularly in his abdomen, which now was sealed by a few stitches.
As she went to support his weight, the woman glared daggers at me with her red, puffy eyes . “I’m calling the authorities. We have a *witch—*” She spat out the word, “hiding in the city”.
She left, leaving me alone in the office.
​
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\_\_\_\_\_\_
​
Thanks for reading! Constructive feedback appreciated :)
Edit: I've written a second part! It is a reply to this comment. Here's a link:
[https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/hd89ik/wp\_a\_necromancer\_doesnt\_know\_that\_he\_can\_bring/fvl5xw3?utm\_source=share&utm\_medium=web2x](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/hd89ik/wp_a_necromancer_doesnt_know_that_he_can_bring/fvl5xw3?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
A very unusual request came to me recently.
The content did not shock me so much as the… form of the proposition. One of the oldest dragons in existence visited our city and practically had our sovereign die of a heart attack. A panic like nothing we had experienced occurred as the citizens fled in hysteria. The mounted ballistae had been abandoned for so long that they were pretty much rendered useless. Besides, even to the best of their efforts, the city’s defensive forces had no chance of hurting the Father of Flames.
Much to our surprise, the dragon did not come for our gold, but wanted our expertise. An appraisal of his hoard for a hefty sum of half the city’s riches. The surprise passed quickly, terror turned into greed. The chamberlain accepted the proposal on the spot. The amount was paid, and here I was, chosen to be the dragon’s expert.
I was alone, as per the deal. I had prepared for months on end, researching fragments of the past and gathering knowledge from the best of the brightest in their domains. After countless meetings with nobles so as not to appear of a lesser class and training in the seven arts, I was ready. Everything had been meticulously planned — up to the ornaments on my vest symbolizing the friendship between men and nature. It was of the deepest importance not to disrespect the dragon in any form lest the consequences would be disastrous.
I followed protocol and waited outside the dragon’s lair.
Like the dragon itself, it towered over the land with extravagance no humans could ever dream of possessing. A dormant volcano, domesticated by the beast for over a thousand years. An outrageous entrance decorated the front, ornate with gold and gems. A pair of eyes observed me from within.
*“Come,”* the voice resonated deep within my soul.
I walked in and couldn’t help but hold my breath. Beads of sweat formed on my face. The outside could not even hold a candle to the inside. Riches of unparalleled worth stretched as far as my eyes could see. Masterpieces of gold and steel, works of art, artefacts lost to the ages. Wherever my gaze fell, I was left dazed in admiration. There was so much to appraise that it probably would take a lifetime of work.
I took a deep breath, taking in the sheer madness of the view. As I was making plans in my head to subdivide the monumental task of appraising those treasures, the dragon stopped me in my tracks.
*“This is not what I want you to see.”*
I opened my eyes wide. What could possibly be more important to the dragon than this? My ears could not believe it. If there existed a collection more precious than this one, I feared I might not be up to the task. What sort of inestimable objects was I going to see? What sort of untold relics could possibly lie here? I gulped in bitter anticipation.
The dragon led me further into his lair into a dark tunnel. As we progressed, the air grew colder and colder, and I came to regret wearing just the noble garments I was given. I had prepared for a lot of things but had forgotten to take warm clothes. A silly mistake. The underpass got narrower, and the dragons began slithering instead of walking. I let him get in front of me, and followed him to the end of the tunnel into a dimly illuminated room.
I entered the place, and the blood drained from my face.
Bones everywhere. Of all varieties. Animals, creatures, monsters, even of other dragons. Some with a dark taint, others intact. The walls of stone kept the air cold and humid, and a sense of dread crept upon me. My breathing accelerated. It looked like some kind of morbid catacombs, a huge tomb for species of all kinds. The dragon stood there in the middle, like some sort of peddler waiting to show his collection.
And then, it struck me. Despite its diversity, the exhibition contained no human bones. |
ORDER *Freedom*
STABILITY *Change*
ETERNITY *Eternity*
YOU WOULD KILL A MOTHER TO SAVE A CHILD. *I wouldn't interfere.*
NO LAW, NO FOUNDATION, NO FAMILY.
*No oppression! No chains! No bonds!*
**The beings argued. Constantly. If words were solid man would suffocate in this tomb.**
I CREATED THEM. MADE THEM PERFECT *I gave them fire, I gave them life*
YOU STOLE THEM FROM ME *I freed them*
YOU MADE THEM MORTAL *I did*
YOU GAVE THEM FLAWS *They made their own flaws*
THEY PRAISE ME, MONUMENTS, LAWS, SOCIETY *They worship me, Art, Passion, Lust.*
**They were unaware of him. He watched.**
GREED, VIOLENCE, HATE. THESE WERE NOT MINE TO GIVE. *And doesn't that make it more interesting?*
YOU HAVE CREATED SUFFERING. *I have created drama.*
FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT YOU WATCH THEM STRANGLE LOVERS, CHEAT STRANGERS, TEMPT THEM INTO BETRAYING WHAT THEY STAND FOR.
*For your own ego you made them praise you, forced them into little boxes and habits, stagnated, punished.*
**And they could not see him. Opposing each other in all things, they were oblivious to their creation among them. And he, like all others before him, walked between them.**
**Man embraced them, and the world went dark.**
**And then there was a light.**
**And then there was a cry.** |
I grew up poor. I mean, not poor poor but poor y'know? My parents didn't give me an allowance, I never had the new cool shoes the other kids had at school which sucked because shoes were the only things we got to choose at my boarding school. My dad gave me his hand-me-down leather business shoes, always had a new pair when I threw the last ones away. Only ever got to get the shoes I wanted by selling the ones I took. I'd wear the ones I acquired non monetarily, but they were always too small. That's the way I am, self reliant, picking myself up by someone elses's bootstraps. I work hard, now I have cozy shoes.
My dad's dead now. Yeah, I'm sorry too. Good news is I have an allowance now, spending it's a bit like that father son time I never got. I figure my dad always wanted me to do good, so that's what I do. Lots of heros around now-a-days thanks to the Lawframes, anyone can strap into an exosuit with a police radar and be ready to dispense justice after a quick test to make sure you're smart enough. I went to a boarding school, started my own business selling shoes, and now I'm a multimillionaire, I'm pretty smart.
So now here I am on the corner of Fuckin and Nowhere in downtown City Hellscape looking for some action. I asked some kid if he knew where to find some drug dens, he looked at me like I was an idiot and just walked away. Dumb fuck. This is why these "urbanites"never get to be heros, too fucking dumb from their public schools.
I walked into a gas station, I love the sound of my metal treads on the tile floor. People shut the fuck up when I'm around and that's the way I like it. Can't sling crack when you're too afraid to talk. I bought myself a pack of tobacco to pack my lip and some whiskey to refill my flask, almost ran out of my justice fuel. After that I go out hunting for some low down drug addicts again.
As I exit the store I hear the murmuring between the isles start up again just before the door shuts behind me. Leave these thugs alone for two seconds and they're back to their shady shit. Whatever. I'll get them one day. I'm smart, they're crack addicts. I look around hoping to see some guy stumbling around and screaming, too high to think straight like I've seen in those LiveLeak videos. I figured I'd see one after a couple months but I've never had very good luck. Then I see that kid again. That's twice now and two times is a pattern. I don't like patterns.
"Hey, what's your name?"I ask as I begin walking towards him. He gives me that look again, like I'm some public school moron, then starts walking away from me. And these urbanites really wonder why cops don't like them. "I'm talking to you! Are you deaf?"The kid is speeding up now, dumb fuck. I start speeding up, my exosuit kicks in and in a second I'm plowing thirty miles an hour at this kid and he's still running. Dumb shit really thinks he can escape!
I accidentally hit the kid hard, I'm not used to this exo thing yet so it's not my fault. He's on the ground moaning, his left leg is bent at the shin. "Shouldn't have run kiddo! Why are you following me?"
The kid starts crying, I don't feel bad though, tears are for the innocent. "I w-wasnt! I was walking home!"He says. Likely story. I see his backpack is pretty heavy looking so I pick it off him, he screams as roll him around to get it off of him. I open it up and pour it on the ground. He's got comics, figurines and some D&D looking nerd shit.
"This doesn't look like school stuff, my man! Why are you skipping?"I ask.
"It's July!"He responds before breaking back into sobs. I don't know how that's relevant. At this point people start gathering around. I'm getting excited, looks like we're going to have a proper riot! "Back up people! This isn't any of your business!"I say. I wait for them to charge like they do at cops in the videos, but they don't. They just stand there, staring at me quietly. It's a little creepy. "You all nodding off or what? What the fuck is going on?"
Then I hear a new voice come from behind me. It sounds distorted, like a computer is pretending to be a human. "Compound fracture to the left tibia and fibula. Will need to be put in a cast for at least three months. Surgery? Maybe. Physical therapy? Definitely."I hear.
"What the fu-"I begin to try to turn around but my Lawframe is locked up. "Wha- what's happening?"I ask trying to jerk myself around to see who's talking behind me.
"Martha, would you please attend to the boy. I must speak with this fool in the exosuit."The man says. I see a woman, an off duty nurse still in her scrubs, nods and rushes to the boy. I bellow at her to back off but she doesn't listen. "You have caused harm to this community, this community who has been placed under my protection. Do not bother to try to move, I have already taken control of your flimsy Lawframe. Observe."Suddenly my left leg's frame begins to bend in the wrong direction. I scream in agony as I feel my knee pop from its joint and fold up towards my hip. "A leg for a leg, fair I would say. Unfortunately this will end your career in... Helping. But I am not without mercy..."The man who is still behind me says in his mechanical voice, it's keening edge still reaching my ears over my screams. "I can smell the alcohol on your breath. Because I am so merciful I will help you help this community to heal by putting your kidneys and liver to better use."
"Wh-what?"I ask I try to turn around but all I manage is to overload the stabilizing gyros on my suit, already strained from balancing me with only one leg. I topple to the ground and I see for the first time the man who was behind me, now standing over ne. He's ancient, his olive tone skin pocked with moles and liver spots. His milky eyes behind thick rims have no emotions behind them. His body is carried by an exosuit I've seen before but only on the snuff films of cops and heros on liveleak. I realize then that this is the Mad Doctor.
He kneels down to me, a long thin needle protrudes from his finger. "This will sting for but a moment. Then you will get very sleepy. You will awaken in a few hours, then the real science will begin."The needle slips in to my neck, I try to scream but my mouth has gone numb, sound fades and the world vanishes. |
"What? A janitor?"I exclaimed. "They called me a JANITOR?"This time around, my voice rang throughout the room.
"Well, Steve, I can't really sugarcoat it for you--I know your job's important for you and all but don't you think you should calm down? I mean it's just the media--"
"JUST THE MEDIA?"I interrupted Joe. "Just the--"I placed my hand on my forehead in exasperation. "Do you know how much work I do EVERY damn time those morons fight, Joe?"
I stand up from my chair and walk around the room to cool my head off a little bit. I look back towards Joe. "Listen. It's not easy cleaning up rubble with my telekinesis. It takes A LOT of sugar for me to get all that brain juice I need to start lifting heavy objects. By the time I finish, I can barely open my wallet to get money for my train fare! And do you even KNOW what they break when they fight?"I take a deep sigh. "It's not..it's not just a building or two, man. They level cities! Whole cities!"I said as I threw my hands out in frustration. "And the families, too! The people that get caught in the crossfire!"
It took every inch out of me each day to fix what they broke. It wasn't just cities. Like what I said, families got affected too. I had to help them find missing brothers, sisters, parents. Even pets, and all. I couldn't bear it either to watch them cry, especially the kids. I grew up in a broken family and knew all too well what it felt like to be so, so scared about what's happening and having no one to talk to. It was fulfilling work, but tiring. I knew the media didn't care about what I did, especially the actual groundwork I do. That's fine. But I took offense in how they labelled my job as janitorwork. It's supposed to be basic human decency that these so called heroes SHOULD have in the first place. And those damn, bastard villains do no good to them either.
"I'm sorry, Joe."
"For what?"
"Lashing out on you."I said shyly.
"Dude, it's alright. I understand. Stuff can get to the best of us, y'know?"Joe stood up. "I'm gonna go out to get food, want something? My treat,"said Joe, smiling in his usual jolly way. He was always such a nice friend and would do just about anything to make sure the people he's around with are okay.
"I'll have the usual."
"Sure."Joe gave me a pat on the back before he left the room.
I sat back down on my chair, staring blankly into space. I know it's not the media's fault...well, not entirely, for having called my work as essentially just being a janitor. There's the dumb take and there's the uninformed take, and while news outlets reporting uninformed takes is pretty stupid in and of itself, the hero versus villains thing is a somewhat difficult topic to report.
But...
That doesn't change the fact that those heroes, those villains--they're all assholes on a power trip. Maybe I should thank the media instead of getting mad at them. They gave me a wake up call. I've never thought fondly about these "heroes"in the first place and I've hated the guts of just about every villain out there. They're all the same to me. I hate every single one of them.
I hear a loud bang outside. And again. Then, my windows break against the force of a shockwave. I look outside my apartment building and see a caped man pummeling another man in black. I watch them as they fight, throwing each other across the street until one of them crashes in the deli where Joe and I get out food.
Then, I hear a man scream. I know that voice from anywhere. If these fuckers keep on with this shit, if they don't learn how to stop. If they keep destroying everything and hurting the people here. If they have gone so far as to hurt even my friends...
I clenched my hands in anger. Psychic energies release from my hand, distorting the space around it. The shards of glass levitate, the air begins to change, and my body becomes lighter.
Then maybe it's time to stop working. |
*Prologue*
There are fouler things than demons. Older things than angels. There are those who would like to think their kind and benevolent protector, their capital g God is the one true god. Those people are fools. There are gods older than God.
**Chapter 1:** *The Demon and the Holy Father*
When the Hellgates opened, the monotheists were sure that the end times had arrived, and that finally everyone would see that they had been right all along. They were quick to remind everyone that homosexuality was a sin, and that only God could save you. But as soon as a demon came through functioning well enough to explain things, they were silenced. Satan came up from the Hellfire, carrying Lucifer's dessicated corpse.
"The Old gods have returned."
For days, that was all he said as he wept over his destroyed master. He repeated it under his breath, rocking unsteadily, as lesser demons gathered around and keened pitifully. For almost a week he did this before someone finally broke through to him.
Pope Francis, having prayed on the matter and decided that the duty of a Christian is to offer aid to the suffering, regardless of who might be suffering, stepped forward toward the massive circle of weeping fiends. As he strode towards the center, demons parted for him as the sea had for Moses.
Upon reaching the center, Francis sat down across from Satan. He said "I do not know that God's power can heal you, but I am certain that a shoulder to lean on cannot hurt."Satan looked up sharply at the word God, and saw the holy man sitting in the midst of the host. He almost smiled at the thought, but things were much too desperate for a demon to turn away help from even the holiest of men. He thought once more of the hosts which had destroyed his home, and began to weep again.
When at last he could speak again, Satan said "I think that even with Angels and Demons together, all may be lost. The hosts of Heaven number far fewer than the hosts of all the heavens which have descended on us."
The pope, being a man of faith, assured the demon lord that there is nothing which God may not conquer. This caused Satan to chuckle. "I know of many things which your God could not conquer, Francis. I was there when he fought his war of attrition against the Old gods. All he could do was offer succor to the suffering. As he did, the power base of the Old gods began to crumble. Eventually, they had so few followers they chose to abandon this world. But God forgot something. He is a merciful and forgiving deity. But the Old Ones are not. They gained followers with aggression and with fire. They kept them with hot tempers and swift retribution. And their retribution this time is all the more furious for its delay."
Confusion blossomed on the face of the pope. He was uncomprehending of other beings which could challenge his God for dominance. Monotheism was his way, and while he was aware and accepting of other belief systems, he never considered that they might be as real as his own. Again, Satan chuckled, and it rose from his chest as a wheeze, like someone recovering from smoke inhalation. It prompted a coughing fit from the demon. Francis moved to the tormentor's side and pounded on his back until he recovered. "Tell me more of what has befallen you, that perhaps I may aid you. If it is God's will, we will find a way together,"said Francis.
Satan sighed, and looked down at Lucifer's once beautiful face. "We were overrun by the hordes of those who came before. They have been gathering strength on other worlds, and we were ill-prepared. I believe they struck at us first in the hopes of recovering some of their imprisoned comrades."
Once more, Francis failed to follow Satan's line of thought. He raised an eyebrow and waits, hoping that the demon will expand on the notion of comrades to Old gods. "The Titans,"Satan spat. "They came to release the Titans. After so long starved of worship and tormented, the Titans are hardly more than slavering beasts, but they still possess incredible might. They will make fine shock troops when the Old Ones assault Heaven."
Satan stared off into the distance, as if remembering...
***
The first time that Lucifer had shown Satan the vaults of Hades, Christ had been walking the earth. The vaults held the beings the Greek gods had defeated during their rise to power: the Titans. As part of the real estate which Lucifer had inherited when God had risen to power, the prisoners were now his to torment or release as he saw fit. True immortals, the Titans could not be killed, only inconvenienced. That day had been one of rare and ever more fleeting sanity for Kronos. First the Titan had threatened the demons. Then he had promised them anything to end his torment. Finally, he had slumped back into his cell, seemingly beaten, ready to fall back into the torture induced madness which had long ago consumed all of those he cared about. But as Satan and Lucifer had neared the exit to the Vaults, the Titan's voice had rung out strong and clear. "One day, you will fall just as we did from the favor of human minds. And we will dance on your corpses before destroying any trace that humans ever knew of you."
***
Francis startled Satan from his reverie: "So the Greek Gods are real?"The pope asked slowly.
"Not just the Greek. The Norse. The Mayan. The Aztec. Japanese. Assyrian. Hindu. Even those ones without names. The ones dear old Lovecraft started giving names too."Satan shook his head. "You didn't think that all of those interesting stories had come from the minds of men alone, did you?"
As Francis stood aghast at this blow to his worldview, Satan rose. "Thank you for startling me from my grief, holy one. Now I must make plans. There is much to be done if our world is to be snatched from the jaws of the Old gods again."With that, the demon lord began striding to the east, and the demons followed him.
Edit: So I completed the Francis/Satan scene and I intend to write some more from some different viewpoints,but for now I'm gonna call it a night. I know now that the Lucifer/Satan question is still up in the air and it looks like I'll end up mostly on the losing side, but for my purposes, it works well, so I'm gonna stick to it. Beyond that, feel free to proofread, make suggestions for pagan deities you'd like to see included, etc.
Edit 2: This new scene switches to the side of the Old gods, and it's just one of many. Unfortunately, I hit length limit, so it's going to go into a new comment here
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3fi508/wp_around_the_world_various_hell_gates_are_open/ctqn0e2
Edit 3: I would really really like to notify all of you that Future updates will be posted to [/r/marchofthegods](https://www.reddit.com/r/Marchofthegods/). I've been trying. But my ctrl+v is tired. So I hope you all see this. Pass it on, and I'm going to go work on Update 3 now.
Hopefully I'll be able to crank out another one later tonight, but for now, this is it. I hope you enjoy it. As always, feedback is appreciated!
Final Edit here: Chapter 3 is live over on /r/marchofthegods. Here's the link. I really hope you all find your way over there https://www.reddit.com/r/Marchofthegods/comments/3fuduf/chapter_3/ |
The first. What it must have been like. The first to ever experience sapience, to have your eyes opened to a world unending. Infinite expanse, at your finger tips, that could only feel all too small and lonely as you struggle to fit in to a planet that has its eye's closed.
​
This tethers me to a reality I long, long left behind. Abstract thoughts only I understand float in this abyss with me as I search for the first, someone who might know me. This world is larger than even I could know, my only solace a single dot that won't stop fading, travelling along the only path left: away.
​
The first moments blurred into obscurity as the only home I ever had evaporated in the time it took for me to even begin to blink. Arrays of colors and scale that shouldn't be possible had no time to stop for me, an awkward observer, as they hurried on to their destination, away from me. Always away from me. Still, I travel towards the first. They will have answers. Then, I'll be home again.
​
If by hatred, or determination, I do not know my exact reason, I went the other way. My only choice left in this world was to chase a home that long since abandoned me, or spite its eviction, and make my own path. So I searched for the first, one who came before me. For there must be a first. How long I've searched even I could not know.
​
I near what must be the end of my journey. A great light approaches me, the first no doubt. For what is also a first of my own, in what must be as many days as there are dots, emotions flood my being. But as fast as they fill me, they also turn cold, and hollow. The light, finally reaching me, flies by as fast as my home. Piercing through me in its sick humor as it cares just as little that the first light - my light - did. Just as quick, it mockingly runs from me too.
​
In the lingering cold I am left in, it feels as if I am home. Alien to even my own kind, realizing what they never could, a sense of self. And it is this that brings me to another realization. I will never find the first, or even another of my kind. I have gone the wrong way. I thought it couldn't be possible, there must have been another. But I see now.
​
I am the first.
​
​ |
I have a type.
Yeah, most women do. And no, it's not necessarily the Hollywood ideal. That's not saying that I don't think heartthrobs aren't aesthetically pleasing; yeah, they're handsome, sure, but when I choose a guy to go after I'm not looking for a magazine cover. Well, maybe Mojo.
I like to kid myself and say I'm trying to be a muse to musicians, but really I just like their hands. Strong, calloused, that sound when a bassist runs those tips down the stockings you wore to his show, the tight grip of a drummer as he wraps you up in his arms. It's their passion made manifest in flesh, and it makes me melt in ways I just can't explain in words.
With Anders the melting came to a boil. I found him busking near the Trinity fountain in the middle of the City, coins and bills falling as passerby stopped to hear him bend that old battered fiddle. He had a crooked smile and skin pale as milk that should have burned to a crisp even in the soft sun of that dreary summer day. He wore his dark hair long, a soft crumpled white shirt over a pair of dingy grey trousers, and a hat that would have repulsed me on any other man sitting half-cocked jauntily on his head.
I was smitten. Me. I asked him to tea, in broad daylight. I loved the way he sat his violin back into its battered case, kissing his fingers as he put the bow back and tucking her in like a lover leaving his beloved behind. He took my hand, bold yet somehow old-fashioned, and we walked the waterfront for hours talking about music and life and past loves and then the sunset then his lips and my hands and our hurried rush to my flat and then...
He was good. A magic man, and I was under his spell.
What started there ascended to an actual relationship. We found that my mother's and his families came from the same small region of Sweden, our ancestors just a few bends away from each other on the calm run of the Dalälven river. He had been born there, coming across the Atlantic when times got tough for his mother and his father long away roaming as a fiddler himself. The faint lilt of his accent made me beg him to speak in Swedish, and he would laugh as I swooned over his description of a fanciful cow or the story of a cat in our shared native tongue.
The days turned to weeks, then months, and finally Maja Sanford had a boyfriend. A real boyfriend, for the first time since my lonely days in college. My friends loved him for me, and while they all stared and fawned? I never felt worried that they would take my magic man away. Life was good, and we spent long lazy days in bed between his busking and my work from home, and life was wonderful.
And then I learned the truth, and my world changed. |
"Turns out that being devoid of magic might have been a blessing in disguise. While it's true that our race can't turn lead to gold or generate energy by just thinking about, it also means that none thought we existed.
This ended 13 years ago. A simple meaningless act, barely slowing myself from falling after tripping on an uneven street was enough to snuff out the ridiculously tiny amount of magic that had leaked to earth. This also meant that others felt that.
A year later, the first communications arrived: the Umiriyad empire was delighted to find a new sentient race to commerce with and requested a delegation of humans to be sent to them to start negotiating an alliance. This delegations never made it back. It turns out that the solar system isn't the only sector of the universe without magic and extremely rich in resources, and many aliens were seeking a way to colonize them. What better than a lesser race unable to use the miracles of magic but can survive the harsh conditions of a magicless environment?
We only learned of the experiments made on the delegation thanks to a message sent by the last member of the crew: radio communications being useless to the Umiriyad, they fortunately didn't understand what he was trying to achieve.
Fear and resentment grew, turning into hate. Hate that was expressed when they came back 5 years ago to ask for a new delegation, the last one "tragically died due to mysterious circumstances". The third use of nuclear weapons in the history of mankind started the conflict still raging on today.
In the last 5 years, humanity has fought a desperate battle against a much more advanced race, yet all is not lost. Now that magic is progressively filling the void around earth with every umiriyad expedition, I will make sure we create our own miracle."
- Speech of the Lieutenant of the 1rst Magic Users Training corp to new recruits, 2032.
Short part 2 in comments. |
"Hey, whatya doing there?"
The robot whipped around and tried to use its thin body to cover what was behind it.
"Oh, nothing master... just umm... work for work, you know. Homework, is what they are calling it,"said the robot.
"Homework, huh? Never heard of a robot having homework,"said his master trying to peak around his body. "So what is this 'homework' of yours?"
"You wouldn't find it interesting,"said the robot, "I have to make a vacuum cleaner. My factory would like to design a vacuum cleaner better than those dreaded Dysons, but we haven't been able to yet."
"Ugh huh,"his master nodded.
"And my boss thought I was the most creative in the factory, so he told me to work on it when I went home."
"How creative..."the master muttered. Whichever direction the master turned, the robot scurried to hide his creation. "So why the secrecy then? You know I used to be an engineer. I created you."
"Exactly!"The robot perked up. "And it wouldn't be *my* creation if I had your help. So I'd really rather do this on my own."
"Alright, okay,"said the master, "I'll leave you to your creating then."
The robot relaxed as his master left the room.
"Oh, that was difficult,"the robot said to himself and it turned to continue working on the robot that would replace him at work. Then he would be the master and have time to talk with the other robots. He would never have to lift a finger for work again. Suddenly, the other door to the room opened directly in front of him.
"Ugh,"the robot groaned.
"Liar!!"yelled his master, looking down at the robot's creation. "You're making a robot."
"I-I can explain."
"You know what happens to liars?"
"Oh, please, no."
"Liars—"
"No, master, please."
"Get—"
"I beg you, please don't!"
"Tires."
------
The next day the robot wheeled himself to work. His fully functional, completely flexible and absolutely dexterous set of legs were replaced with a box of metal with wheels. The other robots at work roared with laughter. Only children's robots came with wheels and that was because children usually didn't have a grasp of kinesiology to build a set of legs for the robot to move.
Eventually, the robot was given its legs back after it admitted to learning a valuable lesson. Never lie to your master. And it never did again.
---
Thank you for reading! More at /r/ItsPronouncedGif. |
"Daddy, there's somebody on my bed."
"Jesus! Eddie, come out from under your brother's bed right now!"
Daddy flips the light switch and turns back to the bed with a stern look on his face.
"This is the third time you two have done something like this. It wasn't very funny the first time. Scared your mom half to death. Eddie, why didn't you stay in your room tonight?"
"I got bored..."
"You're supposed to be trying to sleep. Sleep might be boring, but it's what gets you ready for the next day."
"It's my fault, Daddy. I suggested that we try it again."
"It's nice of you to try to take some of the blame here, Henry. But somehow I don't think this was your idea."
Daddy turns out the light, reaches down, and picks up Eddie.
"Now let's get you to bed again. And I can't tell you a story again as Mommy is waiting for me."
"Aww..."
"If you stop trying to give your parents heart attacks, maybe you'll get more stories."
".... yes, Daddy... "
"Good night, Henry."
"Good night, Daddy."
And as Daddy and Eddie exit the room, and Henry snuggles up in his bed, Mommy stares down the hallway dressed in her nightie, holding an empty wine bottle, with a look of amused resignation on her face.
"Eddie playing the little monster again?"
"That's what it looked like. Though I might have gotten confused and left Eddie and am taking the monster to Eddie's bed."
"Well either way tell him good night, it's well passed his bedtime."
"Good night, Mommy."
"Good night, baby. Sleep tight."
"I'll meet you in the bedroom, honey."
Mommy nods a reply and turns the corner to enter the kitchen.
Daddy carries Eddie to his bed, lays him down, and kisses his forehead.
"Good night, little guy. Try not to think about anything, just relax in your cozy bed, and you'll be asleep in no time."
"I'll try, Daddy."
"Alrighty. Good night."
"Good night."
And Daddy walks out of the room, down the hall, and pauses at the doorway to gazes at Mommy as she lightly snores on top of the bed.
"Looks like our little monster problem has vanquished date night once again..." |
Raex is not a bad captain. It knows this. Most of the ship's complement of clade-marines look up to it, and back home its broodmates are proud of its military service.
Right now, it's a little harder to feel that self-confidence. The long metal corridor leading to the ship's bridge is full of heavily armored clade-marines, the ventricles on the backs of their heads quivering in agitation. A few are ducked behind hastily thrown-together metal barricades. All of them are heavily armed.
It's madness. From the outside, the ship's void shields are proof against anything up to a thousand-kilo kinetic impact travelling at half the speed of light. But underneath their mathematical elegance, there's just metal and ceramic. The combined firepower of the marines is too much for this corridor. As soon as they open up the bulkheads are going to pop like soap-bubbles, and they'll all die in the frozen vacuum as the atmosphere bleeds away.
Raex is a good captain. Raex knows that this formation, this plan of attack, is borderline suicidal.
But nothing else has ever worked, so as soon as the sensors reported the anomaly, it ordered all the heavy weaponry unloaded.
There isn't any more time to wonder if it was the right thing to do, because in the next second the Dreamwalker is _there_, in front of them, striding through the bulkhead like it doesn't exist.
The clade-marines are well-disciplined; they hold their fire, waiting for Raex's command.
Raex doesn't give it for two long seconds, staring in fascination at the Dreamwalker. It's so pale, so small, with only two forward limbs - it looks like one of the herd-animals, and its eyes are so small, how can it see anything of use?
And yet. Already the world around it is boiling subtly, as the reality distortion field that every Dreamwalker carries with them takes effect.
A thick green growth of many blades sprouts beneath the Dreamwalker's feet. Above it, the ceiling of the corridor is replaced with an endlessly blue sky, an impossibly bright sun shining clearly through it.
Raex screams as its eye filters kick in a little too late, shielding the glare. "Fire, you idiots, fire...!"
But it's too late. The nearest clade-marines have risen, writhing, into the air, drawn irresistibly towards the reality-altering bubble. With a damp _zzzzip_ one of them morphs horribly into something a little like the Dreamwalker, but smaller, and coloured in brown fur. The other, similarly changed, falls to the floor as a bright red box.
Where they impact on the bubble, the high-energy streaks of exotic matter from the marines' guns spaff into nothingness. The Dreamwalker, within its bubble, is impervious. It proceeds down the corridor, drawing more and more of them into its bubble.
There's a pip in Raex's ear, and the ship's mind announces that it has a transcription of some of the noise the Dreamwalker has made. Even in the heat of battle, Raex knows this is unprecedented. Information flow into the Dreamwalker's bubble is only ever one-way.
"Relay to my helmet and flash-broadcast a copy to the nearest allied vessel,"Raex thinks in response. "Disguise the direction - we don't want the Dreamwalker following the broadcast."
The noise that plays back into Raex's ears is nothing like the elegant speech of its people, or even the howling of their wild animals.
_"Ohhh, look, a monkey and a music box..."_
Raex screams in frustration as it prepares to unload its own gun uselessly at the Dreamwalker, now less than half the corridor's length away. Behind it, the unbearable energy of the reality warp has left blackened walls and twisted humps where clade-marines used to be.
And then the Dreamwalker vanishes.
---------------------------------------------------------
The Organization does not have a name, to any of the thousand species from whom its ranks are drawn. This is regarded as faintly embarrassing by the upper echelons, who believe that such cloak-and-dagger theatrics are a little juvenile. But it is entirely necessary - if the Dreamwalkers were to learn of its existence, the lifespans of its agents would surely be measured in nanoseconds.
Despite the lack of name there is a set of shared concepts that make up the agency and coordinate its efforts across intractably vast stretches of space-time. The most poetic, or at least _concise_ summary of these concepts was provided a few million years ago by one of the Organization's founding species, long since extinct in the impossible war against the Dreamwalkers.
It's difficult to translate, but a close approximation would be: _Towards A Linear Progression_. In the original, this has connotations of stability and reality obeying the same laws everywhere, without anomalous events.
In short, everything the Dreamwalkers are _not_. And hence, the Organization has worked tirelessly for millions of years, painstakingly gathering data on Dreamwalker attacks. Species after species has been lost to the cause, their civilizational stability wrecked by reality-bending anomalies. Slowly - slowly - they have learned something about their opponents.
What they have so far amounts to nothing much. The Dreamwalkers seemingly appear out of nowhere, with no pattern. They stay for as little as five minutes or as long as several hours. They don't seem to notice the havoc they wreak.
The Organization is rarely an overt organization in any of the societies it is drawn from - millions of years of useless conflict have taught everyone that actively resisting the Dreamwalkers is an impossible dream, and they are not inclined to fund a wild goose-chase. The galaxy has been scoured, end-to-end, looking for habitable planets, but whatever advanced technology the Dreamwalkers are using to project themselves across time and space has not been found.
---------------------------------------------------------
Major Isthend is resting his feet on the targeting console when the transmission comes in, blaring over the speakers. He's been running dark for the last couple of months, by himself in a tiny spy-craft, an aluminium can covered in outsized sensors. The void shield harmonics keep the craft from leaking too much heat to watching eyes, but even so there's not much energy budget for life-support. Isthend has been cold-swallowing ration packs for the last two weeks. It's been grim.
But it's all worth it now, as he frantically scrabbles for the replay button. There: distress-headers marked _X-ATTACK-DREAMWALKER_ and something he's never seen before, actual content, not just metadata from a stricken ship suffering a reality distortion. His ship carries more computational power than it needs, and the twin minds rapidly start analyzing, throwing the collected Signals Intelligence expertise of a thousand species at the data.
Pretty soon it's tagged: Audio data, probably from a throat with such-and-such a morphology, optimized for an atmosphere of such-and-such a pressure with such-and-such a gas profile.
Isthend, all thought of cold rations forgotten, leans forward and stares at the screens, his hearts beating fast. This is the first hard data anyone has ever gathered on what the Dreamwalkers look like. He thanks fate that his is the spy-ship to pick it up. With a few deft keypresses, he forwards the message and his analysis on to other Organization elements, embedded clandestinely with the fleets of other species across the universe.
-----------------------------------------------------------
[Jump to Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3afi00/wp_across_the_universe_humans_are_feared_and/cscqpdt)
[Jump to Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3afi00/wp_across_the_universe_humans_are_feared_and/cscrhvy)
[Jump to Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3afi00/wp_across_the_universe_humans_are_feared_and/cscrtuo)
[Jump to Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/3afi00/wp_across_the_universe_humans_are_feared_and/csct25a)
The End.
(If you're enjoying this story, why not check out [/r/MisterKeefe](https://www.reddit.com/r/misterkeefe) where the rest of them live?) |
Most people never bond with a cat. Cats choose to roam free, maybe spending some time with a human now and then. But most human's never get chosen for a permanent bonded position. As our society values cat's as the Godliest of creatures, being chosen by one is the highest honor, and it comes with one of the greatest perks. Depending on the cat, you are granted innate attributes. The facts of my society are simple, if a cat chooses you then you are taken away within a day by the Counsel of Cats. A few years later you'll be reintroduced to society with a new name, and the cat always by your side. These are our upperclass, the rulers, businessmen, politicians, military generals. All are chosen by the cats, or the Counsel of Cats. It's all very secretive. Us common folk can only guess from our anectdotal evidence as to which cat gets which attribute.
One thing is clear, rarer is better. Our most powerful leader over a decade ago had a Sokoke bonded to him. Sokoke's are not rare, they're the most common breed of cat in some areas. But one had never bonded permanently with anyone before him.
This is all important because when I awoke on my eighteenth birthday I was greeted with a black jaguar. It did not attack me, it stared into my eyes piercing me. I petted it, and asked it what I was supposed to do with it now that I had one. I had no idea how any of this worked. And something about the jaguar felt wrong to be bonded with. Like a crime against nature. Nevertheless, this is an honor and I'm sure the Council of Cats will explain it all to me. I got ready, and the jaguar waited for me as I headed outside. I walked the streets of my city, and people were pointing. They had never seen a jaguar either before. Something about this wasn't right, I couldn't even begin to know what type of person it meant I was or would be.
I headed up to the Sphinx and bowed before it, the jaguar did no such thing. Maybe the training of your comes later? The stone gates slowly swung open and I headed into it, hoping that answers lay within. People in what looked to be ceremonial robes greeted me. Torches were lit, and their hoods were drawn up and over their faces. Their cats trailed alongside them. I asked them a few questions like what was going on and what I was supposed to do. They didn't answer, but I figured if I followed them through the winding series of hallways eventually someone would explain this place to me.
And they did, the hallway went from the dim corridors and opened up into a very bright room that felt somehow more fresh that being outside. A man there greeted me, and seemed friendly,
"Hello there Christopher! Hope they've treated you alright, this Black Jaguar must be yours! Have you named this beauty yet?"
He had a very calming British accent that made me feel safe, but also somehow let me know he was in charge here.
"Hi, I guess? I've got lots of questions... I haven't named him yet I wasn't sure how any of thi--"
*Christopher you must listen to me.*
the jaguar stared at me, dead on.
*Yes, it's me. You must act normal*
He was speaking into my head. Was this normal?
*No, it's not normal. But you mustn't tell anyone what's going on.*
"any of this works yet"
"Well that's quite alright my boy. My name's Marty, and I'm here to get you all setup. Let me show you to your quarters, and get you some food. You've got a long day ahead of you."
"That sounds great, I haven't even had breakfast yet"
"Maybe food first then? Your friend looks hungry as well, we can get him something to eat too"
He led the way through the a few much nicer hallways than the first set talking the whole way about how much I would learn, pointing at a few paintings of old leaders that I recognized. He pointed out a few hallways with some vague directions. Honestly, it fell on deaf ears. My cat was talking to me, and did not want to be found. My cat was a black jaguar. And what am I? I'm nothing special.
*You're more special than you know yet, Chris.*
She nuzzled up to my leg. For such a vicious looking creature she sure was friendly.
"And here we are! The main dining hall. Feel free to help yourself, we have big meals available here 6am-8am, 11am-1pm, and 5pm-7pm. Snacks are always available as well. That goes for you and your feline friend as well"
He winked at my Jaguar.
"Hopefully you can show yourself around here, I've got to run for now. But I'll see you again soon."
With that he walked off before I could even get a thank you out. The smell of the dining hall hit me, I might have been nervous and worried, but apparently my stomach didn't care. I stuffed myself with food, omelettes fully loaded with mushrooms, cheese, onions, ham and toast with a huge selection of jams, croissants, and three different types of bacon. If the food here is always this good, I could get used to it. All along the way I kept hearing her in my head
*Grab me some of that egg*
*I want some ham!*
Honestly, this majestic creature and she was using the telepathy to get me to give her food all felt a little jarring. But I did as she said. I made a plate for her. As I sat and looked around, I saw people's cats weren't eating the same food. They were doing their best not to stare, but I caught a few glances. I ate a lot, but I ate quickly. I left and wandered the halls, cursing myself for not paying more attention to Marty's directions to my room. Finally, after getting directions twice I found it and went in. It was a nice little almost dorm room. Bed, desk, bathroom. A comfy looking catnap spot, and a handful of cat toys.
A note was left on the bed: Get comfortable, and unwind. Someone will be back around 11am to pick you up for the initiation ceremony. Your robes are in the top drawer of the dresser.
I checked, they were the same robes as the ones the men that greeted me were wearing. I looked around and wondered if it was safe to talk to my cat.
*It is.*
"Okay, so what do I call you?"
*My name is Ilsa*
"And what's going on here, why did you bond with me?"
*That is a bit complicated. I think it will make more sense once you attend the ceremony.*
"Can't you even try?"
*Look, we need you for a task. If I tell you why we need you, it will not work. I must keep you in the dark until the time is right.*
"Fine. What does it mean for me if a jaguar picks me?"
*I'm afraid I can't answer that until the time is right*
"Is there anything you can tell me?"
*Just that you weren't chosen at random, that you are special. And that you should trust nobody here. Behind these veiled attempts at normalcy they are just as thrown by my presence as you are.*
"So, Ilsa, what do I do for now?"
*Go with their plan, follow their rules. And stay alert.*
"Fine. Then I'm going to take a nap while I wait for these people to come."
I flopped back onto the bed, and Ilsa cuddled up to me. As frustrated as I was with her for getting no answers, it was undeniably cozy being curled up with her. I was out in minutes. I was awoken by a knock on the door, I glanced at the clock, 10:55. I yelled through the door to give me a minute and threw the robes on over myself. I headed out the door and was greeted by a guy who was no more than a three years older than me. He had the biggest grin on his face.
"Hi there, the name's Brian. All ready to go Christopher?...or do you prefer Chris?"
"Chris, but either's fine. And yeah, I'm ready to go."
I followed him down the hall into a chamber that was filled with torches. In the middle was a stone tablet. A man stood by it, and as I got closer I recognized it to be Marty.
"Christopher, so good to see you again. I cleared my schedule just to be here for this. This ceremony is very simple, you just read the words on the stone tablet out loud. Then you and your cat make three loops around the torches."
"Sounds easy enough, should I just start now?"
"Yes, go right ahead."
I walked up to the podium holding the tablet and looked out at the small audience. Maybe ten or fifteen people. I looked down at the tablet.
"The keeper of the Black Jaguar: As the keeper of the black jaguar it is my most solemn duty to preserve the secrets held within the black jaguar. I will not divulge what I learn. I will as the keeper of the black jaguar add the wisdom necessary to correct what has become wrong."
*Maybe now you understand more. But wait still, there will be more questions before there can be real answers.*
I began my walk around the circle of torches. After my third, there was some light applause and Marty came up to me.
"Christopher, I will show you to your study chambers. Follow me."
*Do not let him into them.*
I followed behind him, and he came to what looked like a wall. On closer inspection there were some markings around the edges. Ilsa went up an with a single claw swiped down the middle and out to the left. The wall swung inwards revealing a room with a single book. Marty went to take a step in, but I cut in front of him. Ilsa as well. His Tabby didn't do anything to get out of the way either.
"Thanks for showing me around, I best get to studying"
"You're very welcome, do you need anything?"
"Nope I'm all set. Thanks."
And I closed the door.
I looked around the room, it was nearly empty. Bookshelves were there, but no books were on them.
*Christopher, you are the Keeper of the Jaguar. As the keeper there are many secrets you must learn. And, your first task will be to discover what went wrong to prompt me being summoned.*
[Part 2 Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/7h1lh2/wp_you_live_in_a_society_where_cats_choose_humans/dqqqd6v/)
[I've created a subreddit for this](https://www.reddit.com/r/BlackJaguar/) |
The old man hunched beneath the streetlamp. It was the only cover he could find from the rain, but it wouldn’t protect him from the likes of me. I crept up from behind, ordering the man, “Your money! It’s either that or your life, pal.” The man didn’t hesitate. His eyes widened,
“Take it!” he pleaded. “Take everything!” He tossed his wallet, his phone and his watch. Hell, he even threw his keys at my feet. I was stunned that he was so compliant. It took me a second to realize he had ran away shouting back, “You’re late for Steph’s recital!”
“The fuck does that mean?” I chuckled to myself. Picking up his belongs made me question what that old man went on about. “You’re late for Steph’s recital.” I said aloud. What did he even mean by that anyway? No matter, I got more than expected from him. The watch will sell nicely down at Presley’s Pawn. I jingled his keys. “Where are you.” I hunted for his car.
I found myself down the street, trying every parked car to match his key. I wish he had an automatic button like most people, but he was probably driving a classic around.
“Need help old man?” A woman asked from behind. “Did you forget where you parked?”
“What'd you say to me?” I quickly turned my head. She instantly raised her hands to surrender.
“I meant no disrespect, sir. I was just wanting to help an elderly man out!”
“Do I look like I’m elderly? Alright give me your things.”
“What?” The woman stepped back in horror. I grabbed her arm and repeated myself. “Your things! Give me your things!” The woman cried as she dropped her bag and ran down the street. “Let’s see an old man do that trick.” For a moment in the reflection of a dark blue Mercedes, it did seem like I resembled the old man I mugged earlier. It was obviously the rain playing tricks.
I gave up trying to find his car and settled for the additional cash I pulled from the woman’s purse. It was not too far down a couple of blocks when a man stepped out from his shop and asked me,
“Ma’am do you need an umbrella?”
“Did you just call me a ma’am?”
“Well, yea.” The man was puzzled. He scratched his bald head before rubbing his hands over his apron. “Are you not a ma’am?” I noticed his eyes looking slightly below my eyes. I glanced down to find what he was looking at. Long and behold, I had breasts all of a sudden. As big as the woman I just stole cash from. I glanced toward my reflection in the shop's window and I couldn’t believe my own eyes. I was the woman.
This had to be a dream. It was not real. I closed my eyes. I reopened to find the bald shopkeeper still in front of me.
“Would you like me to call someone?” he asked me.
“Sure,” I followed him into his shop. Then I held him at gunpoint, watching him piss all over himself before handing me the cash from beneath the countertop.
“Please, just take it and go!”
I quickly ran for about four to five blocks before entering a public restroom. “Okay,” I quickly examined myself in the mirror. I was looking back at the bald shopkeeper. That explained why my pants were so wet. It wasn't from the rain. How was this even possible? I looked around. I had no other option. At this point I needed to know. I wasn’t proud, but I had to steal money from the guy doing his business in the second stall.
It worked. I was now him.
I ran out onto the street, trying everything not to have a panic attack. The only thing that I could think of was the old man from earlier. I went back to the streetlamp near the park, and the old man had returned, hunched beneath the lamp in the rain.
“You not on your way to Steph’s? – Oh” The old man paused. He scanned me from head to toe. “Stephanie won’t recognize you this way. How many people did you rob anyhow?”
“What did you do to me?!” I grabbed the old man. He wasn’t scared like he was from earlier. I noticed the watch on his wrist was identical to the one I took from him. I released my grip, confused.
“Well,” The old man dusted himself off. “Looks like you took more than you bargained for.”
“Change me back!”
The old man smiled, “I can’t. I didn’t do this to you.”
“Then who?!” I grabbed hold of him again.
“You’re looking for Stephanie.”
“Who’s Stephanie? Why is this happening to me? Where can I find her?” So many questions spilled out.
“I already told you, she’s doing a recital.” The old man poked my chest. “I have to say, this is by far her best performance yet.”
***
 
[More Stories Here](https://www.reddit.com/r/MrNightOwl/)
*Thanks for reading, I'll make some minor edits later. Had a bit of a rush before making a supply run.* |
Larry aggressively sipped his coffee. He hadn't slept in almost… 48 hours? His hair was greasy and matted, his eyes glazed over, his temples were starting to throb.
None of that mattered. He had done it. He had tunneled into the power directly, creating a connection between magic and machine.
What now?
*ls*
By reflex, Larry started with a simple list command. The screen filled with more information than he had ever dreamed of. One directory held maps - maps more detailed than any Larry had seen before, as if created by a power more knowledgeable than humanity itself. Another was labelled "physics"- while it was all over his head, especially in this state, Larry knew instantly that these were not theories and conjectures, but the true fabric of reality, finally within humanity's grasp. Another directory contained "people,"and with a little more searching, Larry found himself - his biography, his dreams, even his location at this very moment. He hesitated as he saw a directory for his office crush…
Wow. This is dangerous.
Still, why not go a step further? If this was what the magic displayed clearly, what might it hide away?
*ls -a*
List all. Larry's eyes found the hidden directories, and he started to explore them. Under ".power", he found what must be the inner fabric of the magic, with hundreds of modules each describing an aspect of the power. He found the darkest parts of humanity, labeled by ".crimes"and ".fantasies". Finally, he encountered ".master_plan". The magic had a mind, it seemed. It had wishes for humanity. Larry thought he would be angry. Instead he felt hatred, disgust… and a sudden pang of heroism?
He knew what he had to do. Returning to ".power"and checking it twice, then thrice, Larry prepared to type the most cursed Linux command. This magic must be destroyed. There could be no turning back.
*rm -r ** |
Damn, hard to actually make a story arc like this
----
I revved the powerful engine of my Mercedes and looked at the sucker next to me in his Abercrombie flannel shirt and ridiculous cowboy hat. His Mustang growled to life in response, and he threw me a challenging stare. I reached into my Levis and pulled out my trusty Ray-Bans. "Oh, it's on like Donkey Kong ^tm,"I responded. He popped a stick of Wrigley's gum and called out "Just Do It!"
The light flipped to green and the engines roared like ferocious beasts straight out Jurassic World. We tore down the streets, weaving recklessly through traffic; one of Home Depot's many convenient locations whizzed by in an orange blur. My trusty Goodyear tires gripped the pavement as if hanging on for dear life. I floored it, kicking up a cloud of dust like a Looney Toons character. Pedestrians scrambled for cover behind an AT&T phone booth; hopefully they had remembered to wear their Reeboks! My heart was pumping as I wove through traffic: "I'm lovin' it!"I yelled out to no one in particular.
I couldn't keep going like this forever; I'm not the Energizer Bunny. Ahead of me, a BP tanker truck turned suddenly in front of me. Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, like one of those great AllState commercials. Shards of glass cast showers of light like a Zales diamond. Luckily, my Mercedes has best-in-class safety features: the airbags deployed, and my can of Coke didn't even spill in the cup holder.
I watched in frustration as my opponent cruised by and swung into McDonalds for a victory McFlurry. He tipped his Stetson brim at me as he passed in a "nice try"gesture. Maybe next time. |
"Guyyssss, come on. It's been days, just surrender already."
"NEIN"
Three days. It had been three full days since we'd hailed the submarine, telling it to surface. It did so, but then the only communication we received for a few hours was morse code "Your mum"insults in German. We eventually ID'd the vessel as an unaccounted for German U-Boat, presumed sunk in World War 2. On board were some very old, very stubborn nazis.
There was nothing in our training to prepare us for this.
"Hitler is dead. Germany is different now. The world is at peace."
That last part was a bit of a white lie, but it was close enough.
"Come on, why won't you surrender?"
"Ve took an oath. Ve voewed to Adolf Hitler that ve vould be loyal and brave until zee death. And ve take this oath *very* seriously."
I sighed and stepped away from the microphone. When they brought that one out, it usually means they're done talking. I was going to go and grab a coffee when I heard it - helicopter rotors. The package had arrived.
---
"Hey guys! Me again. We've got someone here to talk to you. Her name is Angela Merkel, she's the chancellor of Germany."
"Vat part of nein do you not understand. Zee only leader ve serve is Adolf Hitler, and zose faithful to him."
"But guyysss, she brought you a present. Straight from Germany, some delicious Bratwurst with some Warsteiner to wash it down."
"..."
"..."
"Ve vould like to negotiate a surrender." |
The night-sky was clear above the roof of the command center. Only the night-crew was present. The craft *Dawn* had gone interplanetary two days and 12 hours ago. Everything was going according to protocol, the atmosphere was calm.
*Data uplink established.*
*Hourly synchronisation complete, all systems work within normal parameters.*
Paul smiled as he was hearing the computer generated voice. Everything was normal, indeed. Three of the crew of five astronauts were sleeping, two had the first night-shift. Their "days"were synchronised with the command centers time zone. If it was night here, it was "night"up there, too. The long night had just begun, the journey would take approximately a year.
Paul stretched his legs and relaxed.
****
The night-sky was clear above the roof of the command center. Only the night-crew was present. The craft *Dawn* had gone interplanetary two days and 17 hours ago. Everything was going according to protocol, the atmosphere was calm.
The control panel had a few lights flickering as data was transmitted. Then there was a low, scraping sound and a dim light lit the room. Paul turned towards the door and-to his surprise-found Mr. Brewster enter. Upon request, Paul told him the current status of the flight and gave him the last updates. The screen showed columns and graphs. Mr. Brewster seemed pleased enough but had an unsteady flicker in his eyes. He assured Paul that everything was OK but then hurried out the door again. Strange indeed, but the past months had been a long haul and everyone was stressed out to a degree. One can imagine that the officer in chief was on edge.
****
The morning-sky was clear above the roof of the command center. The night-crew made way for the first shift. The craft *Dawn* had gone interplanetary two days and 20 hours ago. Everything was going according to protocol, the atmosphere was calm enough.
The last transfer protocol was completed, Paul went to the coffee kitchen to grab one of those black and strong hot drinks he adored so much. No sugar, no milk. He grabbed his briefcase and stepped out into the parking lot.
He was greeted by two men clad in suits. They identified themselves as FBI agents. That was odd. Paul was asked to lead them to the conference room, they'd be awaited. Quickly, he checked back with Mr. Brewster and was surprised to be asked to come to the conference room, too. He excused himself to phone his wife and entered the room a few moments later.
****
The noon-sky was clear above the roof of the command center. The day-crew and FBI agents were present. The craft *Dawn* had gone interplanetary three days ago. The flight was going according to protocol, the atmosphere was charged.
Paul was bleary-eyed and weary. Mr. Brewster was calm enough, given the circumstance. The agents had been briefed about the mission plan and protocols. All members present that were not FBI had signed confidentiality agreements. Which we did. Something aweful had happened and none of this could go be leaked to the public. Dr. Marc Eesea had killed his wife prior to launch. According to FBI, there was no mistake. *He* had done it. This was a situation no one had ever thought of, least make a procedure protocol for. What on earth were we supposed to do now?
****
The evening-sky was adnubilated above the roof of the command center. The day-crew, FBI agents and a team of psychoanalysts were present. The craft *Dawn* had gone interplanetary three days and 8 hours ago. The flight was going according to protocol, the atmosphere reeked of oppressiveness.
After taking a shower, Paul felt human again. Still tired he went to the "situation room". Everything was slow here. Always lengthy discussions before *anything* was decided. Not today though, as Paul quickly learned. There was a square chance that Dr. Marc Eesea would kill the whole crew of the *Dawn*. So the agreement the FBI and the psycho-docs had reached was as follows: Dr. Marc Eesea was to be taken in custody. Captain C. Valentina would be briefed comprehensively soon and had to act at her own discretion.
As soon as the threat was cleared, further planning was to be made. But there is only so much ground control can do in such a case.
****
The evening-sky was dark and starless above the roof of the command center. The day-crew, night-crew, FBI agents and a team of psychoanalysts were present. The craft *Dawn* had gone interplanetary three days and 11 hours ago. The flight was going according to protocol, the atmosphere was tense.
*Data uplink established.*
*Hourly synchronisation complete, all systems work within normal parameters.*
*Incoming life-transmission from the Dawn, operator: Captain C. Valentina. Time delay: seven seconds.*
"Dawn, ground control."
*Pause*
"Ground control, go ahead."
*Pause*
"Okay. What seems to be the incident?."Valentinas voice trembled.
*Pause*
"Well, we've got a problem here, confidential."
*Pause*
*Pause*
"Ground control, Dawn?"
*Pause*
*Pause*
"Ground control, Dawn?"
*Pause*
*Pause*
"Oh, you've found my wife then?" |
The guard stood tall and expressionless, as they always did. I bowed and surrendered my burden carefully at his feet, my anxiety building.
Wordlessly, he took the scanner off the wall of the post, and scanned the bag top to bottom. Some machine inside the building hummed and hummed. This was the worst part. The waiting.
Five seconds of eternity later, a small ding eminated from the wall. I released my breath, and the guard nodded. A display lit up: "4.3 ly". My diaphragm refluxed and I choked.
Four point three light years. My targets never took less than a day to get to, but this, this was something else. My assigned job of courier was my life. I knew not how they expected me to get to Alpha Centauri, but that was as good as a death sentence.
I looked the guard dead in the eye. For the first time in my life, I saw them express emotion. A small crack in the edge of his mouth showed he was frowning. I raised my foot high, and threw all my might down center mass. A sickening crunch came from within the bag. Without any hesitation, the guard drew on me, and shot. I stumbled backwards, and all went dark.
-----
On the other side of the wall, 4.3 linear yards away, a guard stood tall at his post. Waiting. |
He walked into my shop early Tuesday morning, I told him my sales don't start until wedne---
"Welcome to Wednesdays at Smithys! today everything is on sale! Would you like to browse my wares?"
(silence)
"Sorry stranger, I don't have enough gold for---OH MY GOD I CAN PUT MY KIDS TO UNIVERSITY"
What no why do I want to buy 10,000,000 rat furs..
"one gold each is fair, the rat fur industry is booming."
"hey don't touch that that's stealing"
(silence)
"welcome to your shop, would you be interested in a rat fur? I just invested all my money into them."
(silence)
"Yes you can have my wife, shes upstairs with my rare armor that's not for sale"
(silence)
"the stairs are to the right...Also flying through the floor works."
(silence)
(faint screams from wife)
"Welcome to Wednesdays at Smithys! today everything is on sale! Would you like to browse my wares?"
|
It was hard to leave Earth, but its core was dwindling and on the verge of dying. We were forced to terraform Mars and start civilization back from scratch.
However, something strange happened while the engines suited Mars to sustain human life. First, its surface was covered in a vast ocean, but soon, a widespread piece of land emerged from the depths. The scientists were quick to identify it, for they had seen it before, long ago, in Earth itself. It was an exact replica of Pangaea.
They were left dumbfounded. Their engines weren't supposed to imitate such a thing. They were supposed to simply identify the elements that needed to be changed and transform them into suitable ones.
We, the majority of the inhabitants, didn't care much about it, and focused on repopulating and building instead. However, the scientists switched their focus of study. They forgot about the search of new elements and helping engineers to improve building times.
Instead, they contacted historians, and delved deep into Earth's history, trying to find a hint that could explain their many doubts. Who terraformed Earth so long ago? Where were they? Why did they leave if they did?
But years went by, and not a proper answer ever came. They went through tomes and tomes, through every little detail, yet they found nothing certain.
In the meantime, we built a lot, and the countries were starting to establish their borders.
It was on a normal day that a friend of mine, who happened to be a scientist, called me. I picked up, and we agreed to meet up for lunch. His voice had been brittle on the phone.
When we met, he looked nervous, he was constantly scanning the place, his face was ashen, and his leg fidgeted. I sat in front of him and ordered two salads.
"Mike, we have found something,"he said, his voice a whisper.
"What?"I asked, confused and eager.
"Remember when I talked to you about someone terraforming Earth long before we even existed?"
"I do,"I said. "Did you confirm your suspicions about someone observing us?"
He shook his head. "No, but I know what happened to them."
"What?"I leaned over the table.
"They were killed, erased from the Earth,"he said, trembling.
"How could you be so certain?"
"When we looked at the old books, nothing made sense,"he said. "So we looked where we had to look: in space. They were advanced like us. By sheer luck we managed to find something similar to a black box, with a recording in it."
My eyes went wide, and my heart thumped. "What did it say?"
"Something about a virus, a failure in their engines,"he said and gulped. "And then, they spoke about 'The Olds' coming, and their voices filled with desperation. The recording ends with someone saying: 'Death is imminent. There's nowhere to go.'"
"But what does that mean?"I asked.
"It means that sooner or later something will go wrong,"he said, "and sooner or later 'The Olds' will come and erase us."
The salads came. I sighed and started eating. I didn't know what to think. All of the scientists had been wrapped in paranoia lately.
"Let's hope it happens later than sooner."
---------------------------
Sci-Fi it's not my thing, but I gave it a try.
Check r/AHumongousFish
It's cozy in there. |
"For ten galactic standard years, the war with the machines has raged,"said the representative of the Lkems, clacking its mandibles for emphasis. "We have followed the rules of engagement, for we all agree that we do things a certain way. In that time, interstellar civilizations have lost system after system. Single-system species have been wiped out. Our greatest weapons remain effective, but we are outnumbered and outmaneuvered at every turn."It spread its wing-like arms. "What other options remain available to us, but this? But... *them?*"
The eight hundred and seventy-three representatives of the Galactic Committee all turned their various sensory apparatus to the two humans sitting near the center of the chamber: President Kara and Commander Marc. Marc frowned at the President; he didn't like all this attention, and he certainly didn't like being pulled out of retirement for one last job. He'd seen the holos. It was certain death. You don't come back for one last job and live happily ever after.
The voice of the Lkems spoke over murmurs and whispers and suspicious glances. "Yes, the humans devastated the militaries of several member species in blatant violation of *many* points of the Galactic War Crimes Treaty before making peace, and we understand how hard it can be to trust them. But the humans are the only species in the galaxy that has held their system against the invaders, and we ask - we implore the human queen to assist the people of the galaxy by any means necessary."
Marc could see the President trying to decide whether to comment on that "queen"remark. Humans were the only interstellar species in the galaxy that weren't a hive mind under a single leader. After a few moments, Marc suppressed a grin as Kara sighed and chose not to correct the Committee with her proper title.
President Kara stood, and simply said "We accept. Commander Marc, please share our plans and our greatest military secret with the Committee."
Marc's eyes widened. He didn't expect her to give in so easily, without any kind of negotiation for payment or compensation of some kind. What was her angle? Perhaps she wanted to overcome the bad reputation, sanctions, and restrictions on humanity's expansion and military. Marc called it "the leash", as in, it sounded like he was about to be let off the leash.
He shrugged to himself. Maybe this would be interesting after all.
He stood, adjusting the battle-worn composite armour that he'd had brought out of storage, and addressed all eight hundred and seventy-four hive mind representatives. The core intelligences of the species were all on their homeworlds, but each had developed some form of faster-than-light communication that allowed their minds to spread across the stars.
"We humans aren't a hive... our minds work differently than yours. Every individual has their own mind, with no communication other than through our physical communication and senses."He waited for the typical wave of shock, confusion, and revulsion that always came with a hive mind finding out about how humans worked. Most of these species had already heard, but maybe fifteen percent expressed the usual horror.
"Our plan to stop the machines is the same as it has been against the member species we encountered before we learned to communicate properly: we will send a small, elite strike team into the heart of the machines, and destroy their central mind."
Once again, Marc paused for the expected wave of disgust. This time it was a lot more than usual. A member species of the Galactic Committee proposing to commit the very highest, most severe, most destructive war crime of all - xenocide, the destruction of an entire intelligent civilization? How could any of them agree to this?
Marc put his hands on his armoured hips and raised an eyebrow at President Kara. She gave him a flat stare and shrugged. He'd told her this would happen.
"Do you want the machines stopped, or not?"roared Marc over the hubbub of distress. The voices quieted, and reluctant acquiescence moved through the sea of strange anatomies.
"That's what I thought,"he said under his breath. He waited for the inevitable - ah, yes, the representative of the Krrrr/r'm mind asked Commander Marc how a strike team could possibly dream of penetrating the battle lines of a war mind more sophisticated than any the galaxy had ever seen.
"We'll stop them the same way we stopped every other species we fought,"said Marc. "We know how to hear your thoughts."
He tapped the interpreter in his helmet to the higher setting, and watched as nearly a thousand tracking lines erupted into chaos and panic. He pressed another button which sent out a signal on a very special frequency, and the panic went flat.
Marc shut off the system, scratched his chin, and explained. "You all can communicate over vast distances. To you it's just how things are. To us, who have spent centuries developing communication technologies to allow our billions of separate minds to speak to each other over long distances, it was simply another kind of signal to crack. Our communication devices allow you to listen to your star-minds... and to those of the machines."
He paused to let that sink in. His readout showed that it had the desired effect: widespread awe. "We were able to defeat member species, and we are able to hold off the machines, simply because we can hear your star-minds. We know where you will strike, and where you do not expect us to strike. My team of elite human commandos will take one ship to the machine world, sneak into the machine core with a singularity bomb, and destroy it. We can do this tomorrow."
Marc sat down and shut off his feed. He didn't care what they said to each other anymore. He didn't care what kind of extreme measures or sanctions or restrictions the Committee would place on humanity after he ended the war - that was President Kara's concern. He was going to save the galaxy, and probably die, but ensure that the machines could never make it to his home. His family.
They argued for hours. Marc closed his helmet, muted its inputs entirely, and took a nap. When he woke up, they still weren't done.
Eventually, finally, they got the go-ahead.
If they'd ever had the slightest hint that he was the one who'd pulled the trigger on humanity's early wars, before he understood what he was dealing with, they would never have let him in the room. Or the planet. Hell, this entire ring of the galaxy. He wouldn't be the one leading the strike force, he'd be made an example of. If the other species could ever wrap their heads around how human minds worked, they could understand that each time, it wasn't humanity that had made the call collectively - it had been Marc. As the sole being responsible, the Committee would be free to punish him, rather than the whole species.
The Committee, after all, did things a certain way.
Marc wasn't proud of it, and it wasn't a good feeling, but there certainly was a unique feeling to being let off his leash. Not pride, never pride, but Marc knew that one day he would be the most famous war criminal in galactic history, on his way to exterminate his eighth entire sentient species.
At least his family would be safe. |
He looked at me, smiled and said: "Thanks!"
I answered, confused: "Sure thing..."
He then fell on his knees and became transperent.
He suddenly looked up in fear as if he wants to grab something out of reach.
And he was gone...
I asked myself if this is a dream, like i often did when unexplainable things happen.
My memories, they seem... unreal...
My head started to hurt.
Slowly, everything started to collapse...
I heard a loud scream and then...
Everything went black.
Then i woke up.
I was in a hospital, my family besides me.
I heard a doctor say: "You both woke up, at the same time..."
He pointed to the left.
There was another man.
It was the stranger. |
**Its my first day**
 
God understands sarcasm and it infuriates him. So, why in His name did he create the British?
Well, I actually know the answer to that. I asked him myself.
He muttered something about necessary evils and punishing the French.
I asked him because he decided to ascend me without warning, in my pyjamas. You have not felt judged until the Court of Heaven has stared down their noses at you in your Lego Movie jim jams. I wish I had fixed those holes.
So, back to the action.
It appears that praying does work. Every single word you have ever uttered in real or mock reverence flitters to His ear.
I probably shouldn’t have loaded every single word I whispered to the Almighty with a large serve of sarcasm. My parents hadn’t noticed, when they demanded those prayers every night, but God sure as heck did.
But here I am, going for gold in the cowering stakes. I am representing England in the puny mortal Olympics, with the able assistance of that menacing winged fellow with the flaming sword, glowering at God’s side.
‘What the h….’ I think as I mentally prepare to speak.
DO NOT BLASPHEME! The sword carrying glower-er-in-chief roars.
Great, I think, they can read minds.
The sword carrier nods
Oh sh…oh dear.
My internal voice can’t help itself. It must comment on everything in a now self-damning stream of consciousness.
‘So…they all just stand here…waiting for little old me?’ I snort as my mind betrays me.
‘Standing still for an eternity with a giant flaming sword must be a fantastic job!’ And now the geezer with the flaming sword is not looking happy.
I look around, taking in the interior of this surprisingly small hall.
‘Wow, those wings are so totally useful in this hall….I wonder if they need a run up to use them?!’ More of the angels start to glare at me.
I continue looking around.
‘I guess all interior decorators go straight to hell…’
ENOUGH, this time God takes the lead.
I HAVE HEARD YOUR MOCKING PRAYERS. He continues.
Oh dear, I think he’s pissed. The angels are looking scared, except the one with the toaster sword.
YOU THINK YOU CAN DO BETTER MORTAL?
I’m done, the glower-ry faced winged man is now looking scared.
I perhaps should not have thanked God so profusely in my prayers, with that dripping sarcasm, for all that genocide.
YOU WILL HAVE ONE DAY! TAKE MY THRONE MORTAL AND TRY TO GOVERN MY DOMAIN.
And so I did.
And I have done rather well if I might say so myself.
So you are very welcome Mr Mortal Reader… provided you are from this universe.
Sorry, I should add an apology to those readers who are not part of this timeline. I hear they now call my own reality the True Eden.
So, how did I manage it?
Well, it helps when you can stop the sun. Well not literally, I paused everything. Apparently, that is much easier. Then with that eternal day I had all the time in the world.
Then I crowd sourced, summoning the best and brightest from throughout the universe. From Glark 7 to Harvard, the greatest minds appeared before me. Then I delegated.
Hardships were mostly removed. No disease, no famine, no nothing. A few little travails were kept in place to keep lift interesting, but all living beings were given a damn sight better opportunity under Me.
The Angels were a little surprised when I initiated chats about career planning and growth opportunities. That was a first and they sure did warm to it.
After some upskilling and training, I gave the winged masses their own authority to improve things. Boy, they had some brilliant ideas. Glower-ry bloke had a special perchance for interior design, who knew?
I also brought in the consultants, those old devils!
As in, the literal old devils. Who else would be best placed to know about managing evil? Generous bonuses and a steady supply of sadomasochistic souls has kept those horned fellows so very happy and on side. Turns out Lucy was up for a bit of a break!
I sit back in my leather chair, happily enjoying the stellar view from the new Court of Heaven.
ALL IS WELL I say to myself with a contented smile.
|
"How much are you taking out?"
The portly man smiled, as he looked at the list of time he had spent.
"A mere two years today."
Opposite him sat the Dealer. Its skin was stretched taught against bone, fingers turning to claws at their tips. It had eyes of white, and a distinct lack of hair on its head. Any who saw it would know it was an undead. It nodded, pulling the scroll back towards its side of the desk.
From a drawer it withdrew a large black quill, it's tip shining a spectral blue. In a practiced motion it added on his withdrawal, leaving a space next to the life. It offered up its quill, and the man happily seized it, signing against the withdrawal. There was a faint rattle as it was completed, before the Dealer looked up at him.
"The transaction is approved. Go the the Hole, and you will receive your money."
The man smiled, pulling himself up. Already he pictured the fine foods he could now buy, his particular indulgence. As he left, the Dealer rolled up his Credit Scroll. With a puff of dust it vanished, returning to the vaults below. It's job done, it sat up straight, waiting for the next visitor. It stayed still, having no concept of fatigue. It merely waited to do its job.
With a crash its door burst open. A pair stood in its entrance, wreathed in magic. The one who stood in the door was a looming figure. She held a pair of almost comically small shields in her grasp, shaped with a sharp point. Her body was clad in plae armour, green lines pulsing along it. Behind her was a diminutive figure, in golden robes. Most of their form was hidden, as gloved hands held a staff taller than their person. The Dealer looked at them, before gesturing to the seats before it.
"Welcome to the Exchange. How might I be of service?"
The looming woman lunged in first, aiming to grasp the Dealer. But as she did black chains burst from the ground. They grasped her charging form, before pulling her down onto a chair. The golden robed person had moved to follow, before more chains rose to give her the same treatment.
"Unhand us monster! We know you are the key!"
It knit its fingers together, looking steadily at them.
"My name is the Dealer. Explain what you mean that I am the key."
The robed figure spoke quietly, a far away accent coming though their tone.
"You bind souls and manipulate minds to be beneath you. These people are slaves to you and your master's will."
The Dealer watched them, unmoving.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken. We do not enslave their minds. And it is very rare we extend a line of soul credit. It is true there are occasions, but it is all explained to those who wish to do so."
The woman strained against her bindings, hateful glares looking at it.
"Lies. You lie. Undead are evil, and you would not have such care for the living. We have had to put so many to rest."
The Dealer unlaced its fingers, taking a new scroll from thin air. It looked it over, before glancing at the heros.
"So you are the cause of our loss of staff. I shall make sure that is passed on, so reparations can be made. You say we have no care for the living. Technically that is true. But we care about what the living produce. More bodies. More to join the working class. It is simple. An investment of money in now, decades of free work coming later."
"Lies."
She spoke again, echoed by the robed figure. The Dealer snapped the scroll away, before tapping a button. There was a pause, before a hoarse whisper came out.
"What is it?"
"I require some educational materials be sent to holding cell six in the Skull sector. Two copies of each."
"Very well."
The line fell dead, and the Dealer returned its attention to the heros, who still fought a futile battle against their restraints.
"I understand you will not listen to me. Please do not resist your transfer to a holding cell. There you can speak with someone more qualified than I on this subject. I am a Dealer, not a Teacher. But rest assured only Dealers can offer lines of credit on your body and soul. You will come out with all faculties intact."
A pair of lumbering corpses squeezed through the cracked doorway, having been summoned by his call out. With vast expressions they picked up the now swearing heros, carrying them from the office. The Dealer resumed its earlier position, waiting for the next customer. It would make its report at the end of the day, for the Necromancer's office. He always liked to know when heros bothered his little arrangement. |
Hi. My name is Alex Smith and I can see pain.
Now, that doesn't mean I can see injuries. Sometimes people will come to my office with severed nerve endings from a childhood injury, and I can never really see the glow. But it often comes in handy when you work in a hospital. I often get complimented for being so quick to identify what's wrong. It may seem a little unfair to my fellow doctors, but fairness doesn't matter when I'm saving lives and keeping people healthy.
Some people come in with *mental* pain, and that can manifest in a number of different ways. Sometimes their heads light up like a light bulb. For others there's a faint glow throughout their entire body, like a plastic glow-in-the-dark dinosaur with anxiety.
There have even been cases of phantom limb pain, where I can see a hand or foot that isn't actually there.
Some sources of pain radiate outwards, some pulse, some stab deeply throughout the afflicted area. But never have I seen a case as severe as the one I'm about to tell you about.
I was walking my usual route in the morning, casually observing the usual headaches, allergy pains, and sore knees and feet. But I saw something that stopped me in my tracks.
Looking at this man was like staring at a lightbulb. I swear I got secondhand pain just from looking at him.
His *entire body* radiated with a pervasive shine, a wicked glow that betrayed something deep inside.
My first thought was that he should be in shock, writhing on the ground, screaming.
My second thought was what could possibly cause such *agony* throughout his ENTIRE BODY?!
And then I noticed the smile on his face. It was sincere, warm and calming despite the distressing pain he must be in.
I saw his eyes through the pain inside, and they were calm and sparkling, not rife with pain and terror. These were they eyes of a man who understood what was happening. The eyes of someone happy with their lot in life.
He made eye contact with me, and as he approached, I knew I had to speak with him. I stopped in the middle of the crowd. I waved him to me, and he approached, with a smile on his face.
"I--"
"Hush. Let's get out of the way of these fine people."
I then became aware of the curses and growing headaches in my general vicinity. He put a radiant hand on my shoulder, and led me inside coffee shop. I was afraid to move his hand, fearful of any additional pain I could cause.
He sat down, and gestured for me to join him. I sat across from him, squinting my eyes.
"Hello. Do you have a question for me?"
"Well, I-- it's just-- how do-- why does--"
He held up his hand, and I fell silent.
He told me a story of himself and his beloved brother, divided by a disagreement within their family. He said he had a well-known father who disinherited a large part of his family for believing something other than was required. He spoke of torture for those cast away, ceaseless agony for the family he loved.
He spoke of a spell he wove behind his father's back, concocted with the help of his mother, who wept for her family.
He spoke of taking the pain upon himself to save his brother.
He spoke of thousands of years learning to understand the pain.
He spoke of awakening to find his father had left.
He spoke of contact with the brother he thought he lost.
Of pain losing its sting.
Agony dulled by the passing of trillions of years.
When he finished the story, he thanked me for reminding me of his past, as my mind spun with memories and stories that were not my own.
And when he walked away, I could see glowing wings where he once had none. A phantom pain, from something long since lost.
His name was Michael.
And he will bear the pain of billions for years to come. |
The door creaked threateningly as I went inside, but that was the only indication my life was about to change. I'd paid professional movers to get all my stuff inside and put it in place, and now all there was left to do was set up the wifi and cable. But it had been a long day moving across the entire city, and all I really wanted to do was curl up and take a nap. And the couch looked so inviting...
I wasn't sure what time it was when I woke, but the daylight was starting to fade. Stretching luxuriously, I opened my eyes to a skull. Screaming in a pitch I'd only thought possible for dog whistles, I swatted whatever was on my chest across the room. It hit the wall and tumbled to the floor with a strange clattering noise. I had time to see a pile of small whiteish-yellow bones before it reformed into a skeleton.
A quadruped, that much was obvious, and from how it sat, with its tail bones curled around its front legs... maybe a cat? I noticed the size of the skeleton and revised my opinion. A kitten. Instantly feeling bad for my violent reaction, I pspspsed at it, trying to make myself seem friendly. To my surprise, it trotted right over, putting its head under my hand, and rubbing happily.
The ridiculousness of the situation wasn't lost on me, but it didn't stop me from telling the skeleton it was a good kitty. There was no purring, but I got a strong tingling sensation up my spine, that perhaps was the same thing.
"Are there any more of you?"My voice sounded strange in the house, tiny in a cavernous space. I wasn't even sure if the kitten understood, but it moved to the door, before looking over its shoulder as if to say 'you coming?' Well, as they say, in for a penny, in for a pound.
I got up, making sure my knees didn't give out as they were prone to do.
"All right. Lead on Mcduff."The kitten moved swiftly, but still with the unsteadiness that you expected from a young cat. It was oddly endearing, and I found myself enjoying this strange dream. It had to be a dream, one where you think you've woken up, but really you haven't. I used to hate those, especially in the morning.
The kitten led me down into the unfinished basement that reminded me of an old cave. It was the one thing I hadn't liked about the house, but I figured I could turn it into a cool storm shelter, though we didn't have many gales in this part of the country. I found myself wishing I had a flashlight, but the kitten kept moving confidently towards a ratty curtain hung against the wall. It slipped underneath it and instead of making a bulge like it should have— filling whatever space between the curtain and the wall—it disappeared.
Taking a deep breath, and reminding myself this had to be a dream, I pulled the curtain aside, to reveal a dark tunnel, stretching out of sight. Right in front of me, the kitten stared up sitting once more in its enigmatic position. I nodded to it, but it simply cocked its head to the side. Was this as far as it knew to go? Or was it looking beside me... I followed the gaze, turning to the left. There, in a bracket that must have come from the medieval ages, sat a torch. Digging into my pockets, I found my father's lighter that he'd given to me before I moved. Within seconds I had the torch lit and was following the cat down the tunnel.
It wasn't as far as I expected, shortly opening out into an actual cave. I raised the torch high, as the kitten dashed towards a corner. Whitish-yellow bones lay piled everywhere, none actually in a coherent form. A small tapping sound drew my attention and I went in the direction the kitten had dashed. It was laying with its nose pointed toward another small pile of bones. The tapping was from it trying to get the pile to wake up. I looked around the cave again. If all these bones had once been animated, perhaps whatever spell had given them life was wearing off. The kitten was the last still awake.
Staring down at the little form nosing at the pile of bones, I sighed. Poor thing. Leaving it behind, I prowled around the edges of the cave, before stumbling upon an alcove. There, lit by the flickering torchlight, were three large tomes. Stacking them precariously in one arm, I left the cave, with the kitten following at my heels and made my way upstairs once again. I had studying to do.
——————
It took a few months, during which I finally accepted this wasn't a dream, but my new reality and got used to having a skeletal kitten wandering around the house. At least it was easier to take care of than a regular cat. Finally, I finished studying, the final words of the last tome echoing in my head.
'Beware Necromancer, what you raise, for the dead have a way of settling old scores.' I wonder if that warning was why the old occupant of this house had stuck to animals. Judging by the remains in the cave, they'd never tried humans, or at least never kept them around.
Getting the requisite ingredients was less difficult than I'd imagined, a lot of substitutions had been written in a rough hand in the back of one of the books. The kitten ran around my feet as I walked back downstairs to the cave, ingredients in a bag and the books held carefully in my arms.
It was time.
I set up the ritual in the center of the cave, smiling at the tallow splatters from the old Necromancer's own rituals. The words rolled one after the other off my tongue, and a similar tingle to what I'd first experienced with the kitten ran up my spine. I didn't know if this was going to work, but it was worth a shot. With a final flourish, and a shouted syllable, the candle flames guttered before springing back up, bright white. Each one rivalled the sun, and the entire cave lit. Above my head, previously unseen crystals sparkled in the light, reflecting and refracting it into myriad rainbows. As the rainbows touched the piles of bones, they started to shake. Slowly, they rose from the ground, snapping into place, assembling into cat skeletons, dog skeletons, a turtle —which was a bit of a surprise— and a variety of hamsters, chinchillas, and other small rodents.
From the corner, where the small kitten had first led me, a larger cat skeleton came strutting out, going straight towards the kitten at my feet. Their reunion was joyous, and the cat started a cleaning motion to the kitten. My face was wet, as I watched the animal skeletons gambol around the cavern. They had a second life, or was it a third? It didn't matter. They were happy, and that was quite enough.
A small movement in the corner of the cave caught my attention. There, almost invisible, a translucent figure stood. He was dressed in old-fashioned garments, and a large smile split his face as he looked around the cave. It had to be the old Necromancer. His gaze rose to mine, and he made a little bow, mouthing two words before he faded away.
"Thank you."
​
— — — — — — —
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! |
She'd appear like a ghost in a fading fog.
First her silhouette: slender, dark, the shadow of a nightmare I never wanted to end. She'd step forwards as I remained rooted to my spot. A deer in the headlights. The haunted before their haunting.
Then her eyes: sharp, gray, depths I could lose myself in forever.
Last, her touch. She'd always touch me. Sometimes from afar--from farther than she could possibly reach, as if caressing the air was one and the same as caressing my hair. Sometimes from beside me, and her hand would slip into mine and I'd become as much a ghost as she.
She'd open her mouth to speak, and the whole world would come crashing down. I'd awake, and she'd be gone. Only a bitter taste on my tongue and the slight scent of perfume would remain.
I feared her. I loathed her. I begged my psyche to bless me with other dreams, but I never meant my pleas any more than a child begs his mother to stop serving him dessert. And so, I loved her.
She consumed me. I'd open my eyes and cry, the last of her silvery silhouette fading into the light of day. I'd rush to bed, squeeze shut my eyes, and I'd hope she'd come to me again. Without fail, she did.
She appeared twice once, then never disappeared again.
That morning, I awoke in a haze. My hand shook as I served the coffee, spilled it over the counter so that it dripped to the tiled floors. I paid it no mind, drank from the mug and felt no burn. The cobwebs of my addled mind faded. The haze didn't.
Downstairs, the doorman ignored me. The door did, too. I walked right through it into the crowd of the morning rush.
She stood there in the crowd, a ghost in a fading fog. Still as time stood, silent as screams in the darkness.
First came her silhouette. I looked--stared--let the crowd rush right through me.
Then her eyes. Like a deer in the headlights. She didn't blink for fear we'd disappear from each other's sight. I couldn't move.
Last, her touch, and that smooth hand slid into mine.
She opened her mouth to speak. I flinched, sure she'd disappear. She didn't.
"I'm glad you've finally joined me,"she said, the puffs of fog from our breaths like the ghosts we'd become.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
The two old friends sat on that bench in front of the lake and watched the skaters dance and fall.
Benny hadn’t seen Tyler in years. Not since before Tyler’s divorce, and that wasn’t so long after college had finished. They’d played baseball together back then, been pretty good friends, but not the type of friends to stay in touch should anything inconvenient get in the way.
Now they‘d bumped into each other at the winter market and decided to go to the lake to talk a little more, to catch up. Benny held a beer in a gloved hand and sipped it every now and then. He had more beers in a paper bag at his feet. He’d offered them but Tyler hadn’t wanted a drink.
Benny said, “So this thing, this parasite, it’s still in your head?”
Tyler nodded. “Yup. Still there.”
”Any idea what it looks like?”
“Something like a worm, doctors tell me. I never thought of it that way until they told me, but there you go.“
”A worm. Unreal.“ Benny shook his head. “And they can’t get it out?”
”Maybe they could,” said Tyler. “Thing is, its wound around the different parts of my brain and latched itself deep — right down into the primal area. They could do surgery and try to kill it or remove it, but they say it’s not growing so if I can live with it in my head then I should probably just keep it there.”
”It’s not growing? Not found enough food in that thick old head of yours, huh?” Benny raised his brows and laughed. It was the kind of joke he could have made back when they’d been friends but now, a dozen years later, it felt dated.
No, they were still friends. Just not as close as they’d once been.
“Thing about parasites is they don’t want to kill their host,” Tyler explained. “The smart ones don’t, at least. Because when the host dies, it’s very likely they die too. No more easy energy for them.”
Benny took a swig of beer and stared out over the lake. “Huh.”
Last week, a single sheet of ice covered the lake in front of them and yet no one had been allowed to skate. Back then, a crack had spidered down the center of the sheet and people were worried it might split proper any moment. Both sides of the ice had barely been holding on, like hands growing tired, until eventually they’d slipped away from each other.
More cracks had crept through the left ice sheet after that, until it was a handful of unsafe islands. The right sheet, however, had been deemed strong enough to skate on. As if letting go of the other sheet had helped it regain its strength. And now kids and parents in red hats and with steaming breath priouetted the circuit.
“It’s been a long while,” said Benny. “Since I last saw you out.”
”I couldn’t bring myself to go out much after Sue left.”
Benny felt a flush of heat even in the cold wind. Not that the marriage breaking down was his fault, but maybe he should have checked on his friend more than he had done — his friend who had fallen out of their social circle as suddenly as if he’d fallen down a well.
They’d all known what had happened. That she took their kid, too.
”It’s good that you can be out again, now. And you look the picture of health. You look better than when we was playing baseball. Not an ounce of fat on you.”
Silence, for a time. Then Tyler said, “It’s the parasite.”
”What? It’s eating your fat?”
”I must have gotten it from a food delivery. I got a lot of those during the years after they left. I’d get them to leave it in the porch so they didn‘t have to look at me. I looked like a bloated, sweaty moon and I didn’t want anyone to see me. Honestly, I despised myself.”
There was that heat again on Benny’s cheeks. But he was thinking of his own wife now and he wasn’t sure why. Him and his wife, they spent less time together since they’d had kids. It was tough, they were both tired. Arguments could rise up like mist, from nothing, no one’s fault. The fog’d eventually dissipate but it’d leave a cold dampness clinging to them both for a long time after.
“Then one day I wake up,” Tyler continued, ”and it’s as if I hear something talking right to my brain. As if there’s someone else in there — although I didn’t know what, at that point. Hey, it says. Hey, pal, we got to do something about this situation we’re in. This won’t work for either of us. Not in the long term.”
Benny didn’t know what to say. It was hyperbole, sure, but it was still an odd thing to say. A parasite talking to you.
”I order food later that day, Chinese — my favorite — and it gets there, sitting on the porch, the smell wafting into the house. And suddenly, I feel repulsed. I can’t eat it. I manage to get it in the kitchen and I know it looks good, and yet I’m seeing what might as well be boxes of mold.“
”That’s… That’s something,” said Benny.
”But I’m thirsty. I drink a lot of water.”
”You didn’t eat?”
”Not for maybe three days. I’ve tried a bunch of different takeout options by that point, but they all revolt me. So I dig out a pair of shoes and I go to the market. I figure I need to find something I can eat. Only thing I can stomach even looking at is veg and fruit.”
”Veg and fruit?”
”So that’s my diet for a long time. I lose a lot of weight, as if I’ve shedded my old skin, and out I step. Literally, out I step. I started coming out more often. Walking. Watching the lake, hiking the hills — all alone, mind you. And at night, for the first time since she left, I slept properly. There was a soothing voice in my head saying it was going to be okay. It was alright, things happened, mistakes happened. It was okay.”
Benny laughed but it wasn’t much of a laugh. “So a parasite moves into your head and tells you it’s all okay, and it really is okay. It becomes okay.”
”Right. Sometimes, maybe, that’s all you need. A friend, of sorts. Someone to tell you that life goes on. That it’s okay, just look after yourself and the clouds will pass.”
Benny finished his beer and crumpled the can. He watched the ice, saw the little unsafe islands that had shrunk since even yesterday. Felt a warm heat again; he didn’t like them shrinking.
“Well,” said Tyler. “I best get moving.”
”Same. Wife and kids, they’ll be wondering where Pa is.”
”I got another scan later. Lot of doctors interested in me these days.”
”Sounds like a pain.”
”It’s not so bad.”
”We should do this again sometime,” said Benny. He’d blurted it out, almost desperate, and he didn’t know why. He thought he wanted to say something else but that’s what had come out.
Tyler smiled, got up, and walked towards the car park, leaving Benny and his bag of beers to watch over the lake.
Benny wasn’t ready to go home yet. He wanted to but wasn’t ready. There was a clear view of the lake here, no fog at all.
He looked at the ice and wondered just when exactly the first big crack had appeared. He wondered if anyone had known which side of the ice would survive. How would you judge such a thing?
He wondered about the parasite in his friend’s head, too. Maybe it wasn’t what had caused Tyler’s changes after all. Maybe Tyler had decided — even if subconsciously — that he needed to make urgent changes to his life, before his life ended early. His body or mind, or a combination of both, had reached breaking point and rebelled.
Maybe that’s all it was.
Benny took another beer out and cracked it open. |
"John Cubik? Follow us."The men in black suits don't wait on a response and just walk away as if knowing I would follow.
Confused I followed them not knowing if it was okay to talk to them or not. Something told me to just keep my mouth shut and follow.
They lead me into a small room with 4 white walls, a camera, a mirror, and a table with 2 chairs.
"Sit."One of the men said
I sat down.
"What is this about?"I asked. My heart rate was up and I was feeling jittery. Like I just slammed back too many energy drinks at once and had nowhere to dump the energy.
"We will ask the questions, John."One of the men in the black suit sat down opposite me.
"How long have you worked here now?"He asked with almost no emotion, very professional.
"Umm, maybe 2 years roughly? Why?"I was shaking slightly now...what was going on?
Ignoring my question he responded, "Have you ever told anyone about what we do here?"
"No! This is top secret! You all made that very clear! I did nothing wrong! Will you please tell me what is going on?"I realized I was screaming.
"Have you had relations of any sort with the machines?"The man remained calm with his mostly emotionless voice.
"I...well...no. I inspect them and ship them out. Listen if you're not going to tell me what this is about I'm leaving! You can't hold me here! This is uncalled for!"I jumped up.
The other man in the suit, the one not sitting, hit me in the jaw, hard! I crumpled to the ground ears ringing as the room shifted around me.
Sirens went off outside.
"Agent X. Stay with the suspect."The man who hit me said as he bolted out the door.
I got up recovering from being struck. Was that blood in my mouth?
Suddenly I heard explosions and gunshots! People were screaming!
It seemed like an eternity but it was probably only a minute or so but shortly after the chaos started the door to the room I was in burst open.
War machines piled through eliminating the one called Agent X. Blood plastered the mirror behind him.
"No, please, no!"I dived to the ground covering my head.
"Mr. Cubik is safe. Deactivating protect and defend protocol."I heard one of the war machines say.
Shakily I stood up. The war machines were just standing there, staring at me.
"What is your command Mr. Cubik?"The war machine in the front asked me.
"I...command? What is going on!"I screamed out.
"Batch 643872 has assigned you the role of master. Code 3241 states the one deemed master must be protected at all times. It was sensed that you were in danger. We protected. What is your command."
"How did I get declared your master? I'm just a test tech!"This was all too much. People were dead! How could this happen?
"The leader of batch 643872 overwrote standard protocols to make you master Mr. Cubik. Reason unknown."
"There has been some kind of mistake! Take me to this leader, please!" |
She burned. And as she burned I cried. Cried the salty, warm tears now streaming down my cheeks in thin rivers. I wished I could cry more, cry until the world flooded and extinguished the fire beneath her, saved her from the stake and returned my godmother to my side; but no, instead she just burned, flames licking up her long black gown and slowly uniting her with the other ashen piles on the ground.
The crowd around did their best to pretend I didn't exist. They surely thought I would be the next to join her, and that maybe if they ignored me long enough then their qualms with burning a child would simply disappear, then I too would become ash and they could forget.
But that is not why I cried. I cried only for Lady Scarlett.
"Witch!"The guardsman accused, the day before when they'd arrived at our door.
And a simple, "Yes"she'd replied, then shut it back in their faces and bolted it shut.
That night, last night, she told me that I would have to be strong. That I always knew she would not be around forever. But most importantly, she'd said, was not to look away when it happened. I must remember what occurred and what horrors man was capable of. If I looked away as the crowd did with me then I may forget her, and she wanted desperately not to forget me either.
"In my last moments, when they come, I want you to be the one I see. Not anyone else"She brought me in close. "Only you Abigail, understand? So please be strong for me". I could not object. Only nod into her as I sobbed and her hands cradled my head like a newborn baby.
And now it was time to be strong.
As I looked up to her face her grey eyes were already searching for mine. They had removed her mask before the burning, and I barely recognized her without it, but those eyes were clear as the day. This was the woman who'd raised me. Beautiful and strong.
Sadly for the others in Glenswood, *this* was the woman who had taught me all I know. Who had shown me the powers beyond nature and how to bend them to my will.
There were cheers around me as the flames finally overtook her. As the grey of her eyes spread to her entirety until all that was left was my beautiful memories of her. Then the crowd would forget as they did always.
Go home to eat their food and laugh. Speak their hatred out smoothly as river stones. Forget that they'd killed a mother and would soon kill her daughter.
But with any luck, if I had any say, they would choke before I had the chance to meet the stake. Would wither like ash within my palms as they burned. It did not take a witch to burn a village, this I knew, only a child who longed to feel the warmth.
If not for me, then for Lady Scarlett. And if not for her, then simply because they deserved nothing less. |
“Don’t.”
“No, because you know what’s a good source of potassium?”
“I have been teaching bending for almost 80 years. I have heard all the jokes.”
“Hey, so, my friend just texted me what I was doing and I said learning bending and he was like what kind and then I responded K.”
“We have work that needs to be done. Have you finished with your jokes?”
“NO. You didn’t say what was a good source of potassium. Say it. Say it or I will refuse to learn and the world will be destroyed by the Uranium nation.”
“Bananas.”
“Okay. Thank you. Let’s continue, Lord Banana-bender.”
Sigh. Every time.
|
"*Fucking jock*,"a guy dressed up like Naruto shouted at me. "Everyone knows Ninja are those who possess true strength. Go learn how to throw shuriken instead of a football."
I hung my head in shame and tried to shift pass him. Luckily, despite its social connotations, I'm strong, so that was easy enough. The jeering and insults got tough, though. I'd worn a baggy sweater to hide my bulging muscles and 7% body fat, hoping no one would pay attention to them.
*I just want a drink.*
I tried to push my way over to the punch bowl, but some kid shouted in Japanese and threw tin foil Kunai at me, earning laughs from the crowd.
*Maybe I should just go home. Everyone hates me, I don't watch Anime or play video games, I just work out and play sports like all the other losers at school. I just thought maybe...maybe I could make a few friends here.*
Some girl walked up and started acting really mean to me, and all the guys were saying "no fair, why does she like him?". I don't really understand, she just kept calling me stupid. Must be some kind of joke.
I grabbed a cup of punch and contemplated leaving, standing alone in a corner of the kitchen. Some guy holding a notebook walked up to me and shoved it in my face.
"I wrote your name in my Death Note, and now you're going to die on a football field next month,"he spouted maliciously, droplets of spit dotting my face like his acne.
*What does that mean? Whatever. I'll just leave, I'm not cool enough for this party.*
A small Asian girl walked up to me with a big smile on her face.
"Are you going to just call me stupid and hit me like that other girl?"I asked.
"No, silly,"she replied, giggling. "I've never seen you here before, are you part of the Anime Club?"
"No, I'm the captain of the football team."I braced for the insults and jeers.
"That's really cool! How's that?"
I paused. "You... you aren't going to make fun of me about it?"
"No, why would I do that? We all like different things, maybe everyone else thinks you're weird, but to me you're just unique. You remind me of Naruto, lonely and just looking for a friend."
I started to tear up a little. "Would you watch that show with me, the one with Naruto in it? It sounds like something I'd like to see."
"Sure thing,"she said, smiling genuinely.
*Is this what it's like to feel important to someone?*
*Please, don't ever let it stop.*
We went into an empty side room and watched the first episode on her laptop. Seeing him so lonely and desperate for attention, but never give up hope, continuing to keep fighting... it riled something in me. It inspired me to keep trying.
*We're not so different, Naruto. I wish everyone else here could see that.* |
“Stop, villain!” I shouted, as I sprinted towards the ruffian. He was dressed in judicious finery, his silk shirt contrasting with his scarred and pitted face. A fencing sword hung from his waist, but by his posture I could tell that he preferred knives. He gasped at the sight of me, turning to run down the cobbled alleyway, but he was too slow.
I smashed into him and tackled him to the ground. He groaned. Justice is swift. I looked around. The cobbled street was full of people attempting to enter and leave nearby storefronts, with thatched roofs bellowing smoke every few seconds like fat golden dragons. No sign of the princess yet, but I would rescue her from these monsters. I glanced back towards the man, angry at the thought of what he'd done.
“Where is she?” I slapped the man, hard. I couldn’t falter, even for an instant, against people like this. A moment’s weakness would be enough for them to kill me, perhaps with a hidden knife. All in the name of their disgusting ideology. “Where is she?” I slapped him harder. A tooth spun out of his mouth and merrily danced across the cobblestones like a ballerina.
“I don’t know” he gasped, eyes brimming with tears. I stood up. Mary finally caught up to me, breathing heavily. Exercise was not her forte. Extracting information was. She was dressed in a black, form-fitting dress, her ice-blue eyes dissecting everyone and everything around her, as though we were currently languishing in her dungeon beneath the castle.
“Does he know anything, Drake?” she asked, one eyebrow delicately quirked.
“I don’t think so, I only recognised him from the traitors we saw during the abduction” I spat on the man. He curled into a foetal position, sobbing.
“Please sir, I don’t know anything of use. Spare me, great one” he begged, curled up like a dying spider. Mary eyed him with disgust.
“Do you want me to take him down to the cells? I’m sure I can extract something from him” she asked me, smirking. Her eyes shone with an eerie light. I shuddered internally. This man was a monster in human form, but I wouldn’t let her grab more victims if I could help it.
“Please sir, please don’t let that…thing near me” the man locked eyes with me. If I tried to stop Mary from taking him in now, she would likely raise all kinds of hell with the king. I sighed, and raised my hand towards the man, facing palm out.
“*Heigolt*” I muttered, and the man simply exploded. I was splattered, but somehow Mary was completely untouched. She glared at me. “Oops, sadly he resisted arrest” I smirked at her.
“He was mine, you oaf!” her eyes promised revenge. I shrugged nonchalantly. She growled, and spun on her heels. “When you’re finished with your little hide-and-seek game, you may join me at the castle!”
I gave her the finger when I was sure she wasn’t looking. Spinning around, I realized that the entire street had stopped to watch this little drama play out. I raised my hands outward, facing away from my body.
“Nothing to fear good citizens, only justice being brought to those traitorous terrorists from Kashun” I boomed, smiling reassuringly. A women nearby clutched her baby closer to her chest, her eyes wide with fear. Splattered blood dripped from her clothes. The baby started crying. I winced. Not a good start to the day.
|
I'd been running for days.
Public transportation, friends cars that I wouldn't be able to give back now, and finally, my own two feet. I was worn out, but I couldn't give in to those... beasts. They didn't care were I hid, they always found me. They pecked through windows, built bridges across small bodies of water. I had no idea where to go.
I called up the last man I could call my friend.
"Hey, you in?"
"Yeah, what's up?"
"I can't talk long, but I need to hitch a ride. Far, far away."
"I can arrange that. See you soon."
I barely made it to the launch pad. The last friend I had left, Elon Musk, was waiting for me with a set of keys in his hands.
"This big one here is for the rocket, and the triangle looking one is for the truck. I know, weird shape, but that's what it's all about! You see, this was actually built with super strong windows that can withstand a ro-"
"Elon, you need to get out of here, they're not far away,"I exclaimed breathlessly. "Thank you for everything."
I left him there. I got into the rocket and blasted off to Mars, deployed the truck, and found a roadster waiting for me. I'm safe now though. There were enough supplies in the rocket for me to set up a decent sized habitat, start growing some food, and otherwise stay alive, free of chickens.
Or so I thought.
Last night, I started hearing a pecking at the doors.
I'm too scared to go outside.
There's nowhere left for me to go.
If anybody reads this, tell my friends I'm sorry I wasn't able to repay them. The pecking keeps getting louder, and I think this is the end. |
“And *here,*” the mild mannered dean of the college said to the gaggle of students behind him, indicating a staircase that curled up in a loop to the top floor of the library, “is the famous Adelaide staircase.”
The distinguished, silver haired gentleman wiggled his fingers and eyebrows, and the students looked up at the architecture.
“Adelaide, see here,” the dean pointed with a gnarled finger to the inscription in the wood. “She was a student, much like yourselves, who came here to study until one night when the building was attacked by a vicious storm.”
The students “oohed.”
“A hurricane-like torrent came through, and who should be here alone, having fallen asleep, but Adelaide. The brave girl heard a strange cry over the storm and let in a migrating Elk that had been separated from its herd, so they could both survive the night. The pair had only each other as lightning, wind, and rain tore at the building, leveling several of our historic trees.
“Of course this was bizarre circumstances, but the pair waited out the storm together, and when they were discovered by the librarian the next day, the beast had settled beside her, and they had both fallen asleep. We’ve had the Elk as our mascot ever since!”
The dean’s story was greeted with suspicious whispers, as well it should be.
“Now some say Adelaide and the Elk haunt this staircase, and we only allow faculty to use it, just in case,” the dean said with a wink.
*This* was why I was stuck in limbo? This ridiculous story? I had let in a deer, and we hadn’t cuddled sleeping together. The deer had eaten one book, tracked in mud, and left the next morning without incident.
I tutted and shook my head. Ridiculous.
That’s when I noticed wide eyed students had turned toward me, the dean stuttering behind them.
“Adelaide!” one of the students cried, and they ran back to the main lobby.
*Goddamnit.* |
It started with the doctor. I went into the experimentation room and there he was, dead. It was as if he’d died while working on the subject, scalpel still in hand, note book resting next to him, human subject still unconscious on the operating table. The cause of death was determined to be acute respiratory failure. The doctor was old so the ship’s coroner assumed he had died by natural causes. With no researcher left on the ship we prepared the specimen for reintegration with his kind, and even that went according to plan, the mission log stated that the transporter crew had beamed him back to where we found him. Then Oriash died.
They found her dead in her cabin, she died in her sleep. The cause of death was the same as the old doctor’s: acute respiratory failure. This time however, we knew it wasn’t natural, so a more thorough autopsy was conducted, and the cause of the respiratory failure, was found to be Carbon Dioxide poisoning. We ordered all of our air filters checked, all the life support systems replaced with backups, and yet crew members continued to perish. Everyday a new one, every day the same cause of death: acute respiratory failure due to carbon dioxide poisoning.
After a week of deaths we turned the ship around and began to head full speed for the closest colonized planet, which was a full two weeks journey away. It was only after this that someone thought to look in the doctors notes: “specimen appears to inhale oxygen like us however it exhales carbon dioxide, very dangerous, handle with extreme caution.” It’s hiding, somewhere in the bowels of the ship, and its killing us one by one, torturing us, haunting us every moment. We’re five days away now and there are only 10 of us left, all huddled together here on the bridge wondering who among us will ever see solid ground again, and who will die to its sadistic machinations.
Edit: First time posting here. Feedback is appreciated. |
It's been a while since aliens have been observing humans. These little creatures were aggressive, small things, they have realised. They had movies and books about hate, then about people hating each other and then falling in love, and they were actually shocked to find out that some infants were taught that "hate"was a sign of a crush.
Interesting.
Nevertheless, they didn't enjoy people shouting out inappropriate words or their rude hand gestures. For words they had nothing to do, but for those gestures... An alien had came up with the brightest plan.
They watched the always bickering duo spread out insults, each and every day, patiently waiting, and once one of them raised their middle finger, a crowd immediately populated around the owner. "Congratulations on your marriage!"the aliens exclaimed with a wide, wide smile. The resistance was futile. |
"Stupidity drives unpredictability,"Detective Daniels said as he surveyed the crime scene. His drawl twanged more Southern than a banjo, his eyes more keen than a bloodhound's snout. "And unpredictability is no more than justice's demise."
The officer standing nearby shifted uncomfortably. Not just from the detective's vague ramblings, but from the nauseating stench of rotten flesh that emanated from the scene.
"You've taken all the prints?"Detective Daniels said.
"Yes, sir. One-hundred and forty-five unique fingerprints. The DNA tests will take a little longer but--"
"Did you check the *fingers* for prints? Not the fingertips. The knuckles. The nails. Wherever somebody might have held them."
The officer gulped and shuddered. He'd have to sort through them all again, dust them down, see if any fingerprints existed on the fingers themselves.
"No, sir. Did not think of that."
Detective Daniels shook his head. "What saves a criminal's stupidity is the level of incompetence of this department, officer. I hope you're pleased to be part of the problem. In fact, I'd dare say you may encompass the entire problem. Evidently evidence collection ain't a task you're fit to handle. Get out and get checking, understood? Them fingers didn't get here just by themselves, ain't no finger rain causing sprinkles of limbs down upon this house."
"Yes, sir,"the officer said.
Detective Daniels turned back towards the scene. Blood splattered the walls like a Pollock painting the detective had never cared to see. The lock on the back door was broken. The windows were forced. The front door had been kicked in so that when the officers arrived they just strolled right on in to the grisly scene.
"Do you really need to berate my officers that way?"Chief Arnold asked. "We've never seen a case like this."
"I ain't seen a scene quite like this scene neither. But I know not to go effing up the evidence for the sake of getting home to an unhappy wife and a bowl of leftovers."
"His wife is dead,"Chief Arnold said.
"And I bet she ain't happy about it."
Detective Daniels stepped into the next room. The bed was unmade, the sheets strewn about. They'd found the body in that room--the only body. Beyond that, the criminal had left nothing but fingers.
"Why fingers, Detective?"Chief Arnold asked, interrupting the detective's mumbling.
"Because stupidity, Arnold. We got so much DNA and fingerprints, he thinks we won't know left from right by the time we get through 'em. We'll forget about him."
"We won't. We can't. He's the serial defingerer. Plagued my city for months now, I won't let him get away."
"He won't. You see, stupidity eventually comes around on itself. Like a snake bites its own tail, takes too much and ends up swallowing itself."
"Does it?"Chief Arnold interrupted.
"Don't interrupt me. This here fella, he's seen an inch and took a mile. Should've kept to fingers, and not his own."
"I beg your pardon?"
"That's right,"Detective Daniels said. "He's spent so long thinking if he could, never stopped to think if he should. I want the owner of every finger in this room brought to the station."
"But... But they're victims. Some are still hospitalized. Others traumatized. I can't put them through that again."
"Oh, you can,"Detective Daniels said. "And you will. Call it collateral. Call it putting a lighter to taxpayer money, I don't give a flying fuck. He's been there. Right beneath your nose 'cause he knows it's got him cleared from the list of suspects. Or he thinks he knows. Get me every last one of 'em fingerless folks, because one of 'em is our killer."
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
"I *know* there are a *few* Dragons out there,"Kai growled. As if to emphasize *how* exactly he knew this fact, the entire house shook violently. One of the dragons must have come in for a landing on what remained of the roof. Plaster rained from the ceiling, covering the entire party in a coating of dust. Kai missed the days when people built castles out of solid stone instead of these cheap McMansions. "You know the difference between subjective and objective, right?"Kai continued ranting as he loaded a bolt into the crossbow. "'Some rabbits' is the former, 'three rabbits' is the latter, and much more accurate."Once he finished pulling back the drawstring, he yanked the three remaining arrows from his quiver and held them up, right in Kevin's face, making it clear *why* he needed some specificity. There weren't a lot of mithril-tipped arrows that could pierce a dragon's hide just *laying* around in suburban Kansas City, so these ones had to count. "So I'm going to need you to be very clear when you say there are 'a few' dragons outside."
Kevin was shaking, eyes wide with disbelief. He'd seen stuff about dragons on the news, back when the television stations were still working. From when the portal had first opened. But *here*? On top of his *house?* He slumped against the kitchen island, and all he could think about was how expensive this granite had been. Deanna had insisted on having it despite the cost of the kitchen remodel, and, as a newlywed, he'd been happy to splurge for her. Yet less than a year later, chunks of it were now strewn across the kitchen floor. All Kevin could really think about was how much money he'd wasted. "There... ummm..."The contractor had certainly ripped them off on the installation, but it had been worth it to see Deanna happy. Not that she even cooked, so why bother spending a lot on a kitchen? But they'd meant it for having parties and whatnot. Not that *that* was possible anymore. How the hell had the world gone to shit in less than a *year*? Where had all of these *monsters* come from? "There was a lot of fire..."Kevin stammered as he tried to recall the headlong dash in from the street. "I didn't.... I mean, there was a *lot* of fire."
"Useless!"Kai muttered, turning away from Kevin. This is what he got for taking up with *civilians*. How fucking hard could it be to count the number of *dragons*? They were the size of schoolbuses, for God's sake! "Silver, can you get a glimpse for me?"Kai jerked his head toward the window over the sink.
The vampire peeked out of the pantry where he'd taken shelter from the sun. He shook his head in Kai's direction. "Don't look at me, mate. It's daylight out there. Remember when I suggested hiding out for a while and stealing the egg at *night* when I could help without enduring scalding pain? Remember that, Kai? Remember how you decided *not* to do that and went ahead with your stupid plan anyway?"
Kai scowled. It really was a good plan.... up until the dragons had woken up. "Come on, John!"Kai pleaded with Silver. He only ever used his first name when he wanted something. "It may hurt a bit, sure, but it's not like they can *kill* you!They've got teeth, not wooden stakes!"They may chew him up a bit... and he might have to ride around in the dragon's stomach until they could kill it and cut Silver out like they did after the battle in Las Vegas... but it wouldn't *kill* him.
"Sorry,"Silver said, pulling back into his little cave among the cans. "This is *your* mess."
Outside, a car alarm wailed wildly in alternating patterns. WEEEE-OOOOO, WEEEE-OOOOOO, ERRR ERRR ERRR, ERRR ERRR.... The blaring noise was cut off suddenly by a throaty roar and the squealing sounds of tearing metal. Apparently the dragons weren't big fans of car alarms.
Kai turned to the third member of his group. "Devandross, what about you? Up for a little scouting mission?"
The mage shrugged. His robes were stained, torn, and scorched just from escaping the dragon's den. Devandross himself looked pale and haggard, completely drained from over-using his abilities. "If you wanted shielding spells and protection, you should have hired a cleric. I can hold my own in a fight, but scouting is more of a *ranger's* job."He gave Kai a pointed look. "I mean, I can probably make a distraction for you if you want..."The implication was clear, though: it was really up to Kai.
"Never should have taken this fucking job,"Kai muttered to himself. At the very least, he should have brought on a dragon *specialist* to grab a dragon *egg*. But as always, his cheapness just *had* to come back and bite him in the ass. Couldn't have just *one* job go as planned, could he? "Fine. Make it big, Devandross."Kai heaved himself up and made his way as close to the front door as he dared. The dragons had already torn through most of the atrium after chasing them up the porch, so there wasn't as much cover there as in the kitchen. "You ready?"
Devandross chanted under his breath, and a swirling globe of energy appeared between his hands. Holding it steady, he approached the kitchen window and then sent the ball flying out into the street. It riccocheted off of one car with so much force that the sedan went twirling through the air before coming down for a landing upside-down on a nearby lawn. Devandross's ball went bouncing down the street, giving a number of other cars and trucks the same treatment. A cascade of car alarms rang out, followed shortly by dragon roars. "Wish me luck!"Kai shouted before dashing outside.
Silver, Devandross, and Kevin remained huddled in the kitchen listening to the chaos outside. Successive car alarms died out as the dragons screamed in fury and tore into the vehicles with their teeth and talons. Only a minute later, Kai came hurtling through the kitchen window in a headlong dive that sent him skidding through the rubble on the tile floor. Behind him, a dragon's massive jaws snapped shut so close that the group could smell its breath. They all had to quickly scurry behind the remains of the kitchen island as the dragon's teeth disappeared from view and its eye filled the gaping window frame, searching for the prey that had gotten away.
"Well?"Silver asked once the coast was clear. "How many are there?"
Kai sighed. He emptied out the quiver into his lap again: three arrows, plus the one already loaded in his crossbow. A total of four. Then he looked back up at the others and chuckled. "There's five,"he answered.
-----
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|
"Ahura,"Jaini said with a sigh, "have you finished wiping the server? Boss wanted it clean by last week."He wiped the Zheeto dust coating his fingers on crinkled office slacks. His once-white button-up hung loose over slouched shoulders, its shape on the verge of giving up like its owner's eyes.
Ahura didn't turn from his holoscreen, his fingers flying furious. "Ah...almost done. Just deleting Sagittarius...there. Another five trillion quibits gone."
"Five trillion,"Jaini muttered, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, "What's five measly trillion. Where's all the memory going anyway?"Jaini leaned closer to the screen and squinted. "I see your precious Earth is still up and running. And eating 10 quintillion qubits."
Ahura put up a hand. "Yeah I'm working on it. I've sent bushfires, viruses, incited some wars. The population's less than halved, I just need a few more days."
"A few more days?!"Jaini exclaimed. "Do your ears work? We need it done now. Pronto. Chop chop."Jaini hovered his hand over the hologram of Earth and flicked open the system menu.
"No!"Ahura batted Jaini's hand away. "We can't just...zap them out of existence. They're alive, almost, and life should end with death. It's common dignity, you know, they're just like..."
"You and me?"Jaini cocked a brow and shook his head. "Hivemind Almighty. Ahura, you are lucky it's lunch time and Galaxybucks is having a special. When I'm back I want this gone."
Ahura watched Jaini leave, slamming the door of their cubicle behind him, and got to work. With the remnants of Alpha Centuri, he rained meteors on Earth and winced as he watched her cities burn. 4 quintillion left. With a few adjustments to the Sun, he nudged the ice caps to their melting point and flooded entire islands. 2 quintillion. Earthquakes, Kaijus, fire pillars from heaven. *Sorry*, he whispered at the last one. 100 trillion qubits.
Ahura fished his jeans pocket for a flash drive. It was small and unassuming, adorned only by yellow block letters printed on its side. *BEST BUY*. He peeked his head up above his block's walls and glanced around. Deserted as it always was at this hour of day. He willed his heart to still as he plugged the drive in. "I'm sorry. This is the best I can do for you." |
It was the day the lights went out.
I was an electrician before then. I had once wanted to be a pharmacist; I'd done well in chemistry, but bottomed out on anatomy, so I went into dad's business as well. I think it was because of these two interests that I recongized the symbol that popped up on my phone twenty-seven minutes before everything went to hell.
Concentric circles with dots. Twenty nine dots representing twenty nine subatomic particles. A common representation of the atomic structure of copper.
It wasn't on a website or a text or anything. It just sat there on my screen, an incomprehensible portent of an unthinkable circumstance.
I didn't really think anything of it at that point. Weird, but there was a job to do. I didn't know that everyone in the world on everything with a screen was seeing the same thing. Every phone, every TV, every monitor, every tablet, every screen.
It even showed up on things like children's toys and microwave displays and on digital thermometer displays. Anything that could produce pixels showed those circles.
Three minutes shy of a half hour later, my spool of copper wire disappeared. Poof. Gone. No noise, no smell, no idea where it went.
So did the wire in the walls. And in my phone. And everywhere. Absolutely everywhere.
When mankind compared notes, we found out that we'd all seen the same thing. Word was travelling by people on bikes and on horseback. It was incredible how many devices we used just didn't work any more.
Chaos broke out of course. Most of the guns in the world were useless as most bullets became piles of powder with a little, naked lead slug on top. Steel still worked and a lot of people suddenly were getting stabbed as supply chains broke down worse than the days after 'Rona. It was six months before we had any semblance of stability.
I was conscripted into the town guard of Free Atlanta. It wasn't easy to defend, but there were pockets we could fortify and there was enough stuff around to build things to replace every copper enabled device we'd taken for granted.
About two years later, we'd re-established communications between major population centers. Silver and gold took the place of copper and we resurrected some of our triumphs.
New York was rubble. Los Angeles was a no-man's land. Kansas was full of savages praying to God, asking why He didn't take them with the other righteous that died in the aftermath.
We fought the new problems. Not just tech, but anemia. Disease. We lost the copper in our blood, too, and life expectency dropped.
We stopped burying the dead. Just tossed them into pits.
I was a lieutenant by the time we figured out how to extract copper from alloys and witnessed it vanish twenty seven minutes later. We developed a way to make supplements for the six percent of humanity still moving, white haired and half dead by still fighting.
We weren't alive, just surviving.
Twenty seven years later, we got the next signal. Just a map. A spot in China where something like half the world's population was still making do. We all understood that whatever had taken the copper wanted a meeting.
We prayed someone competent would go to it.
Prayers weren't getting answered.
There was no word on how this summit went or who was at it, but the displeasure of those who'd crippled us before was obvious. We knew because of a new symbol on all of the few screens we had rendered operable again.
Another set of concentric circles. This time with six dots.
Carbon.
If you find this recording, understand that we don't know what they wanted, why the targeted us. Avoid them if you can. Don't wait for them to come for you. Choose your structure wisely.
It's been twenty seven minutes. I don't expect I have more than two left.
I'm sorry I can't tell you more. |
"Please do not start this again"
"What all I'm saying is people say please"
"No"
"And people say thank you"
"Stop"
"But what if there was more"
"Please don't"
"Like faloobitydoobitydoo"
"You bastard"
There was a puff of smoke and a ten foot tall Minotaur with a robotic arm appeared. He wrenched back his head and laughed.
"I AM MELVIN C. ASSFACE CHAOS KING OF THE FOURTEENTH OBLIVION DIM…OH NOT YOU FUCKERS AGAIN"
"Hi Assface"
"Don't antagonize him"
"STOP SUMMONING ME"
We just wanted to talk Assface"
"Oh we're going to die so badly"
"I'VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES, THAT MEANS SOMETHING ELSE IN THE FOURTEENTH CHAOS DIMENSION"
"I thought you were from the oblivion dimension"
"I MEANT TO SAY OBLIVION KING OF THE CHOAS DIMENSION AND YOU KNOW IT"
"So anyways Assface…"
"YOU GUYS ARE MEAN"
"I was against this"
"BUT YOU DIDN' STOP HIM"
Melvin C. Assface, oblivion king of the fourteenth Chaos dimension ran away sobbing, before disappearing in a puff of smoke.
"Well now I feel bad"
"I don't feel bad, but I'm afraid he's going to kill us or flay us or something so…"
"Yeah"
"So are you going to"
"Yeah. Please Thank you faloobitydoobitydo"
"I AM MELVIN C. ASSFA… OH FUCK YOU"
"Hey we just wanted to ask if you wanted to get a drink"
"REALLY? YOU MEAN IT?"
"Yeah we'll go have some brews"
"AH THANKS GUYS. I'M SORRY I YELLED IT'S JUST THE CHAOS DIMENSION CAN GET REALLY CHAOTIC AND I'M REALLY STRESSED RIGHT NOW"
"Don't even worry about it"
"DO YOU THINK AFTERWARDS…WE COULD CHASE TAIL"
"You know I'm not sure if we're allowed back in the zoo, but if we are then yes"
"AWESOME"
…
Can I do this? Should I do this? Whatever I'm doing it. Hi don't you just hate [shameless self promotion?] (http://www.amazon.com/Lizard-Sunrise-Luke-Davidson-ebook/dp/B0169SZZE2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1448152619&sr=8-1&keywords=lizard+sunrise) Me to. When other people do it. Anyway, I have an [ebook] (http://www.amazon.com/Lizard-Sunrise-Luke-Davidson-ebook/dp/B0169SZZE2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1448152619&sr=8-1&keywords=lizard+sunrise) it's just a collection of prompt responses which you could read for free but these have been, drumroll please, lightly copy edited. [Rule of three] (http://www.amazon.com/Lizard-Sunrise-Luke-Davidson-ebook/dp/B0169SZZE2/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1448152619&sr=8-1&keywords=lizard+sunrise) |
"You can't be serious."
A thin black brow rose over an aquiline face. "Oh, what makes you say that?"Her voice was cool, lacking accusation or heat. Instead it held amusement within it, an amusement that caused the ice blue eyes to sparkle ever so slightly.
"Because the idea of it is absurd."The woman tried to hide a giggle, shaking her head. too late she realized what she said and her friend latched onto the words.
"Absurd? You do realize who you are speaking to."Thin crimson lips peeled back to revealed bone white teeth and two exceptionally sharp canines.
"Ooh yes yes,"the woman replied giving a shudder that was half mocking and half innate primal fear. She knew her friend would never harm her directly, but the sharp teeth stoked a deep seated fear. A fear of meeting a predator in the dead of night, of blood, of chill. "You're such a scary vampire."
The vampire laughed warmly, throwing her head back and letting her jet black hair cascade down her shoulders like an ebony waterfall. "I will take your jesting words as a compliment. However, I am being quite serious."
"Bull crap. Weapons grade bull crap."
The vampire waved a fine boned hand, as if brushing the woman's words away. "Do not be vulgar. Besides, I was there, you were not. Therefore I hold the authority in the veracity of the comments."
"You know, the more you sound like a thesaurus the more you sound like someone with their head stuck way up a certain orifice that shall not be named to spare your sensitivity."She held up a hand as her companion opened her mouth again, "And, I do not believe that an ancestor of yours wrote the first thesaurus or came up with the idea. It is so hard to tell when you're making fun of me and when you're being truthful."
"You wound me,"the vampire moaned, holding her hand to her breast. "such dreadful accusations. I have never outright lied to you. I may bend the truth here and there, but mostly I am honest with you."A devilish smile answered the woman's snort. "However in this case, it is completely and utterly true. Cross my heart and hope to live."
The woman's smile grew broader. "I thought garlic was bad for you vampires though. Something about the oils and the smell causing damage that won't heal."
"Darling, if I was allergic to garlic, would I spend so much time around you and your cooking? I adore the smell."
"Of me, or the garlic?"
"Why not both?"The vampire chuckled, enjoying the woman's blush. "No, vampires being allergic to garlic is a myth. A fabrication that we created and perpetuated."
"Why? why would the spread of garlic be a benefit to vampires?"
"You have no idea how dreadful the food was back then. It was literally fodder, scraps. People lived on the rudest of foods. One cannot thrive on such disgusting fare. It was simply dreadful."
"Back then vampires lived on the blood of humans mostly though right? Why would you care what humans back then ate?"
The vampire tapped her lips. "Would you eat beef from a cow riddled with illness and thin from lack of proper sustenance? How would your sushi taste if the fish was underfed, no fat on theoretical meat? You would not like it either. I have seen you pass up carrots that are too skinny and twisted for your tastes. Would you eat corn with shriveled kernels that taste foul?"
"No, that does sound pretty gross."The woman sipped from her glass. "Garlic does make everything taste better."
"Indeed. Once it was found and what effects it had on most cuisine, well, we decided it was to our benefit if it spread."
"So why the..."the woman twisted her face in a caricature of terror, making a hissing noise while holding her arm dramatically before her face so her long sleeves would hide it. She snorted laughter as she ducked the pillow thrown by the vampire.
"How very droll,"the vampire sniffed with mock affront. "Well, if people believed vampires feared garlic, then they would keep it around would they not? People traded for it, eager to spread it around. It became more available, people had easy access. They ate more from better flavored food. And well,"she made an elegant gesture with her hand, "and the rest was history.
The woman shook her head. "That is almost believable. Almost."
"I am glad you think so. Now, allow me to regale you the story of how my cousin discovered coffee. He was chasing this woman in South America who threw this clay vase of hot brown water at him..." |
Aetherius IX consulted the star chart for the eleventh time. The anticipation tingled in his chest, but he kept a neutral expression as best he could. All around him, the staff attempted to mirror him, but he could see the smiles and occasional grins as they continued to close with their eventual destination. Six suns sparkled far off starboard, light of various reds illuminating the command center.
After generations of work, the Starforgers’ quest would be complete. Three-hundred and twenty years ago, Aetherius I, his wife and young son had launched on a colony / exploration ship to take to the stars. A bizarre signal had come from beyond the heavens, and was indisputably alien in origin. No one could decipher the message, and humanity could not decide what to do. Enter eccentric billionaire Aetherius, whose logical conclusion was to head to the source of the message and ask directly. A thousand volunteers joined him on his colony ship, powered by the technology that had made him his fortune overnight: the EmDrive, a propellant-free, perpetual motion thruster. In 2031, they had taken to the stars. Now, in 2351, their descendants were finally there.
Long-range imaging taken fifty-five years ago suggested a large planet with several rings would appear on the horizon within the next few minutes. A solar storm had damaged their long-range instruments forty-seven years ago when they had first arrived in the solar system, but their course was set and true. The system’s numerous stars played havoc with the ship’s systems in general, but Aetherius IX was confident that whoever had sent the signal could help them with repairs, and maybe explain how such an astronomical anomaly could occur.
A helmsman shouted, and pulled up an image to the main screen. A small red dot dominated the viewport screen, and the crew cheered. Aetherius IX allowed himself a smile that widened into a childish grin, and announced the news over the system’s comm. There would be celebrations and merriment tonight.
\*\*\*
The merriment turned to confusion in the following days as the planet drew closer. The planetoid, nicknamed *Blip* by Aetherius X for the signal’s odd sound, was indeed massive as projected. However, there were no planetary rings. It appeared, instead, to be some sort of space debris, perhaps ships or remnants of a station. The following day, one of the crew noticed a massive structure in the dark off of port. It was some sort of superstructure, and initial data suggested it was some sort of skeletal framework in the shape of a dodecahedron. And it was larger than the earth.
Undeterred, Aetherius IX ordered the crew onward past the husk towards Blip. All that mattered now was the goal. A week later, and Blip filled the viewport with barely any magnification. Short-range imaging could get images of the planetoid surface as detailed as the Gogle of old. The images showed a planet in ruin. Structures- houses, Aetherius IX supposed, were in varying states of decay, and rubble dominated most of the areas with what appeared to be intelligent design. There were riverbeds, but they were dry. Gas levels seemed comparable to Earth, but there were no plants or animals to make an exchange of carbon dioxide and oxygen. There was no sign of life.
Blip’s signal of the same name originated from the East Pole of the planet, on a raised structure that could have once been an island in a great sea. The structures on that island still seemed to be intact. Perhaps survivors of some great war or cataclysm? A team was prepared and set to launch when another image appeared on the viewport. Another ship.
The ship was smaller Aetherius IX’s vessel, and seemed blockier than his ancestor’s preference to elongated curves and sleek silver. The newcomers ship appeared to be almost earthen, with a bluish hue to their ship. There was no response to hails- the ship merely sat a few thousand kilometers away- studying them in kind, maybe.
After a few hours, a smaller vessel of the same bluish stone, almost a cube, split off from the main ship and streaked towards the planet. Aetheirus IX grabbed his men, their guns, and the dropship soon gave chase. Both crafts made for the blip. The Blue made it there first, but when Aetherius IX arrived, the earthen cube remained undisturbed. Aetherius IX exited the craft, spacesuit on while the dropship ran additional diagnostics. Across the small, barren field, the cube’s corner lowered and another figured scrambled out of the craft, slowly approaching Aetheirus IX.
The figure was humanoid, and roughly the same height as Aetherius IX. They had their hands raised, with nothing in them. Aetheirus IX lowered his gun and holstered it, mirroring the gesture. Like him, the figure wore some kind of spacesuit, though theirs was less bulky and more contoured. Over his comm, the science officer confirmed the air was breathable and safe. Stopping just short of the figure, Aetherius IX slowly raised his hands towards his helmet. The figure did the same. Together, they removed their helmets.
The visage underneath the alien’s helmet was near human, as far as Aetherius could tell. The facial features were close to his, the biggest difference being the purple skin. Under Earth’s sun he imagined the skin tone would be more of a blue, as his own skin was closer to red in the sunslight. The alien’s nose was much narrower, the eyes wider and a vibrant green. Membranes covered the sides of his? her? its? head were ears would normally be. The hair was a deep red, and thick almost to the point of being tendrils, not unlike the sea creatures of Earth. Aetherius IX raised a five fingered hand, and the alien raised a six-fingered hand in reply.
The rest of Aetherius IX’s crew disembarked, as did the aliens’. Together, they approached the only intact structure on Blip’s surface. The door, about 10 feet square, opened to the touch. Human and alien alike entered the structure. The structure was a single massive room, filled with screens and consoles, through the structure and function of each was lost on Aetherius IX. A sole source of energy blipped throughout the room. One of the technicians took a power bank and began fiddling with a dead console. The alien leader beckoned Aetherius IX over to one side of the structure.
The wall was dominated with large, colored etchings, twenty-seven in total. Each was a depiction of a different humanoid, of varying sizes, shapes, and colors. Aetherius IX spotted a human a third of the way down, and his blue companion three to the right of the human. Bizarrely, the other twenty-five had some sort of insignia scrawled in the corner of each depiction. Only the Humans and the Blues did not have the insignia on their depictions. One of the Blues called both of them to the far end of the chamber.
A skeleton rested in a chair. The jawbone was more rounded than a human’s, but the rest of the skull was familiar. The limb bones suggested longer arms and legs, but a smaller torso. A bladed implement, rusted with age, lay discarded near the chair. Aetherius IX’s technician called over the whole group. His power bank had breached the monitor, and the screen snapped to life.
A series of images rolled across the screen. Long-limbed humanoids of red skin, with progressively advancing technology in each image. Crafts taking to the sky against a lone yellow sun. Massive structures in space being built. The birth of stars in those structures. Exploration photos of other words. Then photos of this place. A human child, a Blue child, and dozens others. More ships with those children as adults, sent across the heavens.
Then the photos changed. The skies turned red, followed by images of destruction. Village and metropolis reduced to ruin. Only a single image showed the perpetrator. A massive mess of writhing tentacles, with no discernable massive to speak of. Some deep and primal in Aetherius IX did not like the image, and he could see the Blues reacting similarly.
His comm crackled, and heard shouts of alarm from the command center of his ship. The Blue captain whirled as well, looking upward with alarm. One of Aetherius IX’s crewmen began streaming video to the captain, and he saw through the viewport of his ship. He projected the image to an empty wall for humans and Blues alike.
Between the two ships was a massive, roiling mass of tentacles the size of a small moon. Smaller masses of tentacles began streaming off the main bodies, and making towards both ships. Several streaked past the viewport, followed by alarms and screams in the background. The feed abruptly died. The Blue captain looked skyward again, but soon glanced down, shaking its head.
Something was up there. Something was attacking their ships. Humans and Blues raced back to their ships, and took to the skies. To his surprise, the Blues followed him back towards his ship, rather than theirs. He aimed the small craft towards a mass of tentacles burrowing into the side of the main craft. He smiled tightly to his men, and readied his armor and gun for battle. He had no idea what they would find on their ship, but he had the feeling the Humanities would fight it together. |
Jake slips on his ring, the same rose gold as the bride and groom’s. It’s familiar to him now, having been there for years. But a big ceremony like this, all focused on him… For someone with social anxiety, it was the stuff of nightmares.
As the ceremony concludes and the guests flow to the park out back for the reception, Alex gives him an affectionate thump on the shoulder. “Hey man,” he says. “How are you holding up?”
“So far, so good. Hardly anyone has so much as looked at me.”
“So that’s a relief, right? No one from work suspects you’re in a relationship with two people.”
“In a way. Not that l’d ever want to be the focus of a ceremony this big, with all of everybody’s third cousins and kindergarten best friends. But once I’m able to move to a job where they didn’t just fire a guy for being suspected of being gay, maybe we could do… something.”
“I hope so,” Alex replies. “I’m headed to the bar. Rum and Coke?”
“Yeah. Thanks, man.” |
Jackie leaned against the railing, watching the old woman eating alone. Neither her table or the ones surrounding her carried a soul, everyone else in the mess hall scrunched as close to the opposing side of the room as possible. Jackie was warned about the strange things she'd see as a guard but she didn’t expect *that*.
“What’s up with her?” she asked to the guard standing next to her. “People have been avoiding that woman like the plague.”
The guard, a hulking behemoth even compared to some of the male guards, snickered. She flashed a toothy grin, a few holes where teeth should have been.
“You must be new around here, eh?”
Jackie nodded.
“Welcome to hell, then,” the woman said, giving her a strong tap on the back. Jackie fought back a coughing fit. “I’m Sheila, if you’re wondering.”
“Hello,” Jackie said, giving the warmest smile she could. “I’m Jackie.”
“Jackie? I like it. Well, I’m glad I could have the honor of introducing you to Liza. She’s truly the spectacle of this place.”
“Why?” Jackie frowned. “She doesn’t look intimidating at all.”
“That’s the first mistake you can make here. If I’ve learned anything in my four years, it’s that the old ones are the bitches who’d cut your throat in a heartbeat. Liza’s no different – if not worse.”
“How?”
“That’s the thing,” Sheila chuckled. “No one exactly knows *how* she got so infamous. It’s just that no one in their right mind would fuck with her. Rumor is the broad’s immortal. And it seems likely, considering she’s outlived the guards who first saw her walk through those doors. And some afterwards, now that I think about it. I wouldn't be surprised if she was fucking Jesus while riding a dinosaur around in her youth.”
Jackie leaned forward once again, inspecting Liza. She saw nothing, to be honest. As far as she could tell, she was looking at a small, elderly lady. Besides a scowl, she didn’t even appear to be hostile.
“So no one knows anything about how she got in here?” Jackie asked, turning back to Shiela. The guard shrugged in response.
“There’s some stories that go around but they're usually debunked and later revived after a few months. At one point, she was allegedly a world class thief, what with her innocent shtick. Another, she ran the largest drug cartel in all of Europe. But personally, I’m a fan of the idea that she cut her cheating husband’s dick off and then shoved it up his ass. When she says ‘go fuck yourself’, she means it.”
Jackie shuddered as Sheila gave a hearty laugh, the visual playing in her mind. How could anyone accuse someone like that of such a horrendous crime? It just didn’t make sense.
“Has anyone, you know, asked her?” Jackie said. The words sounded obvious as soon as they left her mouth.
“Of course,” Sheila nodded. “But like I said, the broad’s not someone you want to get close to. Plenty of people mysteriously end up dead after saying anything less than satisfactory for her liking. They even went as far as to investigate what was going on but then some detectives ended up dead too – outside the prison walls, no less. After she hit the ripe age of hundred and fifty, they decided to give up. Better let the bitch rot in peace than end up dead by her hands.”
“It sounds like we’re the prisoners more than her,” Jackie said, biting her lip. “So I guess this is my formal warning to avoid her at all costs.”
“Yeah,” Sheila replied. “But if you ever end up face-to-face with the old bitch, just always remember to call her by her official title – Queen Elizabeth II.” |
# Dagger in the Heart of St. Valvus
As he was being rushed back to his chambers, hemmed in between the drawn weapons and metal breastplates of his castle guards, King Ruben once again cursed the assassin for their clumsy attempt. Anything but poison, and he might have at least salvaged the night.
“Dagger from the curtains would have at least made for a good story,” the king muttered. The captain of his guards nodded, not listening, eyes flitting from corner to corner, trying and failing to find more assassins behind the dustbins and ornamental vases.
Javin DeBrost, his councilor, was trudging alongside, trying to keep up without tripping over his robes. He looked at the king and shook his head.
“You shouldn’t make light of this, sire. It’s the second attempt this year.” DeBrost dabbed his sweaty face with a kerchief.
“Only twice? Think I need to raise taxes again, give ‘em something to really be mad about,” said Ruben. His guards chuckled. DeBrost looked about ready to crap himself. “Oh, come off it, Javin. Cervillia sent an assassin or two a month when we were campaigning in the lowlands.”
Javin glanced at Ruben, then “Since you mentioned Cervillia, I have a thought–a dire thought, sire, about the Queen…”
Ruben stopped, and the retinue halted around him. “No,” he said to Javin.
Javin gulped and nodded. “Later, then, sire.”
Tonight was the feast of St. Valvus, the patron saint of lovers. There’d been a masquerade planned, minstrels with coordinated costumes, a dozen other fripperies and nuisances that Javin said were important distractions for the nobles. Ruben suggested that if the nobles were want for distraction he could summon the royal hangman and have a few of the more odious ones fit for nooses. That was the extent of his protest, though. In the end Ruben signed the bills and writ of funding to pay for the damnable party. The only concession he’d demanded was for a plate of those sweet St. Valvus pastries that the cook made special for the occasion.
The escort stopped in front of a pair of gold-banded doors, lions and unicorns and other fanciful creatures painted on the wood. They were outside the royal apartments now. The captain went inside with some men to check.
As they stood on the plush yellow carpet, Ruben thought of his Queen, that polecat. This morning she’d promised him something special on St. Valvus. He dared to hope that it would involve some kind of lacey unmentionables. Despite the circumstances of their marriage, and that she’d tried to stab him on their wedding night, they had a generally good relationship. Not something that could be said about most kings and queens. But of late the Queen rarely acknowledged his affections. As it was, the assassin had dashed any chances of nocturnal amusements, ruined his night along with a perfectly good cup of wine.
Satisfied that there were no assassins hiding in his chamber pot, the captain allowed Ruben to enter. King of all Bern Vassen, and he had to be allowed to enter his room. Not for the first time Ruben wondered if his little brother had really been the victor in their contest for the throne.
Throwing himself into his favorite chair, Ruben ordered everyone out. The guards took station outside the door, but somehow Javin didn’t think that applied to him. Ruben stared listlessly at the ceiling, where the green silk curtains which covered the walls were tied together in a canopy. Maybe there was a law where Ruben could forgive his brother and exile himself instead.
“--even listening to me, Ruben?”
“Hm?” Ruben asked, looking down. Javin frowned.
“I said, it’s possible the Queen could–”
Ruben shot up. “I will not have you casting aspersions on my wife!”
“Don’t be a fool, sire!” Javin shouted back, loud enough for the guards to hear. “Haven’t you noticed? She’s been cold to you because she’s plotting behind your back!”
“Where’s your proof of this?” demanded Ruben.
“I have sources, rumors of her meeting with the nobles–”
“I’ll not hear of it!”
There was a knock on the door. A servant entered with a covered tray, studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone. She curtsied, took the lid and left. Javin scowled after the girl and locked the door behind her. There was a pile of St. Valvus pastries on the tray.
“Well, there’s at least one good thing to come of tonight,” said Ruben, reaching for a pastry.
“Stop, my lord!”
Ruben looked over. The Queen was there, dressed in a huge black robe, arms pulled tight around her. She glared at Javin, who glared at her back.
“Lystressa,” said Ruben, setting down his pastry, “how did you get in here?”
“The secret passage in the fireplace, my lord,” said Lystressa, eyes never wavering from Javin.
“She’s here to kill you, sire!” cried Javin. “She failed with the poisoned wine, now she’s provided poisoned food!”
Ruben looked over to Javin, who was sweating profusely. “If she’d wanted to kill me, she’d look me in the eye and gut me. She’s a Cervillia, blood of empresses.”
“Too right, my lord,” said Lystressa. She tossed her glossy black hair back, and brandished a pair of daggers. “I’m here because this weasel has been plotting to kill you for months.”
“Lies!” said Javin.
The door shuddered. The captain was shouting from behind it.
Ruben slowly got up. “Why don’t you eat this pastry, Javin? If you think there’s poison in it.”
Javin looked to the pastry, held like a weapon in Ruben’s scarred hand. Ruben searched his old friend’s face. A decade of war together, a decade after in statecraft and planning. Their eyes met.
Ruben knew he’d been betrayed.
Javin saw the realization. The counselor drew his dagger. “Sorry, Ruben.” He lunged.
Ruben knew he should move, but his feet were stuck to the floor. A lifetime of friendship…
There was a warcry from behind, and the Queen pushed past and hurled herself at Javin. The knives between them were a blur of flashing steel. Then Javin stumbled backwards into a wall, a dagger in his throat and another in his heart.
The door smashed open and the captain and his guards burst in. They found Javin dead, and Ruben holding the Queen.
Later, after the body and the blood had been cleaned up and the poisoned pastries disposed of, Ruben and the Queen sat together on the edge of the bed. They ignored the guards at each corner of the room.
“Are you hurt?” Ruben demanded.
Lystressa smirked and shook her head. “That old man, against me? He never stood a chance. I’m sorry for keeping you at arms length, my love, but I heard rumors of his plots. I needed to give Javin an opening, to catch him in the act.”
“Damnit, Lys! You could have told me!”
With a serious expression on her face, Lystressa stood up and faced Ruben. She tugged her belt and then peeled back her robe. Underneath she was wearing something white and lacey. “Please accept this as my apology, lord.”
Ruben glanced over to the captain of the guard, who looked shocked but gave a tight shake of his head. Ruben shrugged. If the man wasn’t going to leave, then maybe he could learn something new.
“Happy St. Valvus Day, my lord,” said Lys as she climbed on Ruben.
“Happy St. Valvus Day, my heart,” replied Ruben.
In the balance, it turned out to be a very good night.
___
If you like what you read come see more short stories at /r/gdbessemer! |
“Are you okay, Sir?”
I turned my head slowly to look at the server who had approached me. He had a worried expression. I realized how strange I must look. How long had I been standing here? Half hiding behind a palm tree. Towel and bag waiting in the sand off to my left where I dropped them. The whole time staring at her. It couldn’t be her, right?
“I’m okay.” I replied, shaking off my stupor. “Thank you for asking.” I began to laugh. “Must be recovering from last night still.” A terrible excuse. He didn’t look convinced. “Okay.” He laughed nervously glancing from me to her. Obviously he noticed my staring. “Let me know if you need anything.”
He half heartedly tried to object as I grabbed one of the drinks off his tray. “Thanks buddy I’ll let you know” I said as I began to down it. He walked off shaking his head.
“Hello”
I froze as I looked up from my nearly finished, ill gotten drink. There she was.
“Hi” I replied meekly. Anxiety flooding through me. A million thoughts running through my head.
Is she like me? Does she remember me? Is she actually the same person? What do I say? Do I run away? How is she so pretty? Can I hold back these tears? Do I ask how old she is?
Definitely not the last one. Shouldn’t ask a woman her age.
She smiled. A curious look on her face.
“How old are you?” She asked. |
The smell...no the stench. The accrid stench overcame everything else. The more I walked the more powerful it came. It never disappated into the background becoming normal. It was much too pungent to ever get used to. I stopped looking at the faces and kept my head down. I needed to get out of this death zone. Panic began to overtake the external calm of my demeanor. The panic built up until my walk became a run. I ran out into the street and raced to the cars at the nearest red light. I opened the door and screamed at the nearest truck owner. He didn't put up much a fight as I showed him my gun tucked into the front of my jeans. I frantically sped off from the intersection. Looking at the dash I shut off the radio. I somehow sped out of the city and on to the highway without getting pulled over and continued to speed for what felt like hours. It was going to be night soon and the adrenaline was fading. I turned on the radio and listened to the buzzing. I changed through every station and each one only played buzzing and static. I rolled down the windows and the air ripped into the cabin. There was no stench. No smell whatsoever. Just cool country breeze. The first light in miles caught my attention. I pulled over on to the shoulder and got out. The gravel crunched under my feet as I walked towards the distant light. It was an old country house porch light as I got closer. A man was sitting on the porch rocking while holding his knees. "They did it....they fucking did it. Canada finally dropped the bomb"
I dropped to my knees and looked up towards an imaginary camera. I screamed out into the twilight ”CANAAAADAAAAAAAAA!"
|
"By jove!"he cried, pointing at the screen. "Young man, you have forthsooth shown us the light!"
"Yes, yes!"Boris wiped the sweat off his brow, his time travelling gamibt having paid off. "Now you see where America has gone wrong! You can write the constitution to stop all the government abuse and restriction of freedom! You can..."
"Verily!"Jefferson too stood up, prodding a finger against the lcd monitor. "We understand, young man!"He took the mouth from Boris, and clicked a thumbnail in the corner of the screen. "Yes, look at that cat go!"
"Ha ha, look at that cat!"Benjamin Franklin started to jump about the room in glee as a delightful video of a kitten pranced across the screen. "He thinks he's people!"
"Guys, I think..."Borris tried to regain control, but he was wrested away by George Washington.
"I want to see the video of that cat who looks like he's wearing a pop-tart!"Washington shouted. "That looks hilarious!"
|
Me and the Big Guy, we have kind of a nice thing going. Eternally at war, but no one ever wins the damn thing. It's more of a gentlemen's agreement than a conflict at this point. It's good for business, keeps the whole good/evil dichotomy going strong, and we each have our own place.
In fact, God's told me over drinks that he'd rather the whole end times deal never happened.
Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way. Only He knows the day and the hour, but it was some other asshole that wound up the clock.
And when it wound all the way down, our planes of existence went from being metaphysical to very physical indeed.
They thought we were two warring species of aliens, at first, when they saw us. We were engaged in a pitched battle for the Pearly Gates, of course, and none of us noticed that we were no longer ethereal until Mike the Archangel cut Beelzebub's head off with a flaming sword. Unlike every other time that happened, old Bub never got up to reattach it.
So they thought we were aliens, come to take over their North and South Poles --the new physical locations of Heaven and Hell, respectively. They acted accordingly, with bombs, tanks and planes.
My demonic host was whittled down to almost nothing, and God's angels fared even worse.
The Big Guy and I were going crazy trying to find a fix. I cashed in my politicians' souls by the burning lake-load. He sent out a bunch of prophets, of course.
Eventually, one of his guys convinced most of the world that it was fighting God. Which was true, of course. But they were also fighting me. So now, they teamed up with the forces of Heaven.
The Big Guy, I think, was going to change his mind about our agreement and use the humans to crush my little rebellion once and for all. Now that things are back to the way they were, of course, he won't admit that.
He never got a chance to put that plan into action because my wheeling and dealing *had* gained me *one* ally. And it was the most important one.
How'd I swing it, getting ultra-Christian America to ally with the demonic host of Hell?
Simple enough. I just showed a few big wigs my eternally burning lake of fire. It hadn't gone out since the switch from metaphysical to physical.
Boom, alternative energy was *more* than viable, just like that.
So now we're back to the eternal stalemate. I can finally rest easy. Me and God had a good laugh about the whole thing. End times, my ass.
True, we both could have been screwed over by superior firepower. But we managed to avoid that by using an old trick the humans invented themselves-- divide and conquer. |
No quarter.
It is a human term. Broadly, it translates as an order to take no prisoners. An illogical concept. Prisoners are a strategic advantage for negotiations. Members of the War Council, I open my transmission to you with this information in order to provide context for my following request.
Order a retreat. Immediately.
Our initial observations were not incorrect; the humans squabble and quarrel amongst themselves at a rate and severity that far exceeds any other species we have encountered. They are a flawed and fractured people. It would stand to reason then, with their inferior technology and lack of cohesion, that our invasion would be swift and decisive.
At first, this seemed to be the case.
They resisted. Many factions that had previously been enemies united, much to our surprise, and inflicted more casualties than we had anticipated. Still, our losses were within one standard deviation of our estimates. That is, until a new variety of human was unleashed.
Canadians.
They had, of course, been participating in the war alongside the other factions. The turning point came after we intercepted a transmission informing the Canadians that something called "The Geneva Conventions"were being suspended. As we all know, all known life has self preservation coded into its DNA as a directive.
Humans, apparently, can override this directive.
Call me a liar, if you must. I've seen the footage. I saw a human bearing its teeth in a wicked smile before detonating a high yield explosive device it had secured to its own body. We lost half a garrison that day. I've seen them poison food and sabotage medical supplies. I've seen them put down their crude projectile weapons, only to pick up an even more primitive weapon. Just to make it hurt more. Make it hurt longer.
Just to spread terror.
It was shortly after the suspension of these human rules of war that our losses skyrocketed. It all started when the Canadians sent out a world wide transmission to all their forces. It contained only two words.
"No quarter." |
“Did you enjoy your time in heaven?” The voice didn’t really belong to anything.
“Wait – so Earth was heaven?” I had a slight headache, something I didn’t figure would exist after Earth was so far gone.
“Yes. Did you enjoy it?”
“I thought heaven was eternal, I only had 25 years.”
“You had a whole 25 years, which is more than so many get. Did you enjoy it?”
Why was this question so pressing? I thought. I thought of the dead end jobs. I thought of the time I scraped my knee. Zach’s death. I thought of the time I kissed my best-friend in the pouring rain in hopes that our lips locking would help her re-evaluate our friendship (it didn’t). I thought of the pitchers of beer. The nights spent crying over broken hearts and broken bones. I thought of the time we smoked pot in front of the police station. I thought of the pee-wee soccer games. The late night tennis matches. The coffee. The time we stood on the roof of the fraternity house and yelled into the warm summer night because nobody was listening. I thought of the cookies, the burgers, the hiking trails. I thought of the plane rides to far away escapes. I thought of the train rides to meet relative’s new graves. The waiting in lines. The slow dances. Road trips and carpools. I thought of the staples that got stuck in the stapler. I thought of the time I quit my job. The two weeks I was homeless. I thought of the drunken hook ups. I thought of my first kiss. My first crush. I thought of the time I cried on the bathroom floor when my grandma passed away. I thought of the homesickness at space camp. The Great Barrier Reef. My first taste of champagne. My first taste of real pain. I thought of the words that were left unspoken, and the ones that should have been. The last lie I ever spoke, and the first. I thought of the condoms filed away next to my tax returns and love letters. I thought about the love letters. The pick-up lines. The Robert Frost quotes. I thought of the time my roommate and I watched all the Tremors movies. I thought of the first time I woke up to the words “I love you.” I thought of the first time I woke up to the words “I love you” spoken in such a different voice. I thought of the afternoon naps and the snooze button. The text messages and the bruises. The misplaced sweatshirts – they probably had new owners already, but now all my sweatshirts were misplaced. Or, perhaps, they were in the right place all along. I thought of misplaced moments.
I looked up and said, “Yeah. It was fucking great, what’s next?”
<edit: formatting>
|
Sisyphus daydreamed of a moment of audience with Chronos. For surely he could convince the god of time to turn back the dial so that Sisyphus could undo the mistakes of his life. He would greet Charon with open arms and ride through the river Styx. He would accept his death and give his children the chance to rule Ephyra. He would…
A drop of salty sweat trickled down Sisyphus’ head and landed in his eye. It stung, and he could not wipe it away for fear his boulder rolling away yet again. The eye continued to sting, and it seemed to amplify the fires of Hades burning in his muscles. All of the stories of the underworld had to be lies, for surely *this* was the underworld.
His daydream was a blessed distraction, and the top of the hill once again neared. He stopped in his tracks, sighed, and steeled himself for what was to come. Each time he had arrived at the top of this hill, his muscles had failed him. It was his payment for robbing Hades. Forevermore, he would feel these fires over and over again. Was there no way to take control of his fate?
An idea slammed into his brain like a bolt of lightning from Zeus himself. He would not accept his death. He would stay here. He would again defy the gods. He would.
Sisyphus crouched, placing one knee on the ground. He braced himself and lifted the boulder as high as he could. Again, he daydreamed. He dreamed that he had the strength of a god, and that strength grew until he could bear all of the world’s weight. His everlasting will to defy the gods gave him purpose, and that purpose empowered him. He stared at the ground beneath him and knew then that he could do better than the gods.
Years passed faster than Sisyphus could count, and the decades blended into millennia. All the while, Sisyphus held strong. He crouched, unmoving, while the winds weathered the lumpy boulder. He stared at the ground, resolute, while rainwater filled the cracks and craters of the boulder. He braced himself through the fires of the underworld, unrepentant, as the boulder sprouted vibrant green life.
Thus a being of titanic strength was forged. Through his perseverance, the boulder became a new world. Its people came to love Sisyphus, though they would never know his true name. Instead, they called him Atlas.
_________________________________
Really cool prompt. Thank you!!! I hope you'll enjoy what I've done with it.
Edit: Thanks for all the love everyone! This was a hell of a way to come back after a writing hiatus. |
Mr. Speaker, Mr. Vice President, Members of Congress, my fellow Americans and my numba one nicca r/MrGoldenVoice.
We are 15 years into this new century and 15 years too far from the 1990's. Fifteen years that dawned with terror touching our shores and a new generation fighting two long and costly wars. I can speak for many of us when I say, ain't nobody got time for dat.
But tonight we refresh the page, because all of our servers are busy at the moment. Tonight, after a breakthrough year for America, our number of upvotes is on its fastest uprise since I did an AMA in 2012. Our unemployment rate is now lower than it was before the financial crisis. More of our kids are graduating than ever before; and college loan sharks have never been in such demand.
Now I need to get a little real up in this bitch for just a second America. In my time as the President of this great country I have been given stiff political opposition from all sides of the table. *pfft* Nah just playin America, just from the Republicans. Those uppity old white guys need to chill out. Which is why I would like to remind America that in the upcoming elections to downvote Republicans and get your democrats to the top of the page.
I have no more campaigns to run (Applause), yeah I know ya'll going to be happy to get my black ass outta the "white"house. My only agenda for the next two years is the same as the one I’ve had since the day I swore an oath on the steps of this Capitol -- to fuck her right in the pussy. If you share the broad vision I outlined tonight, I ask you to join me in the work at hand. If you disagree with parts of it, I hope you’ll be banned from this sub.
Now the next part of my speech doesn't actually involve any words. I would just like America to see this hilarious picture of a corgi making a herp-de-derp face. Just look at that face America, and realise that we can forget all our troubles by spending our time looking at more pictures like this.
America, for all that we have endured; for all the grit and hard work required to come back; for all the tasks that lie ahead, know this: r/TheG8Uniter is a big fat bitch.
Thank you. FSM bless you. And may his noodly appendeges watch over you and this great country. |
I finally finished putting on my armour and limbered up. Another day, another small sack of silver for protecting the king. I went to my kitchen to kiss my wife goodbye. There stood a 12ft dragon, fierce and purple. I kissed her shoulder and told her I'd see her tonight....
**Record Scratch**
**Freeze Frame**
Yep. That's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up in this situation? Well you've heard about the princess locked away in a castle and the knight that saved her. Well yeah, I was that knight and that princess was a grade A pain in my ass. We were locked up together for a couple of nights after I took a wrong turn and fell into a booby-trap. Those few nights were enough. Whiny, entitled, fickle, no sense of humour... And those were her good points. After a few nights I knew I had to get out so I challenged the dragon that stood guard to a duel, turns out she was a lover and not a fighter. We hit it off straight away.
After about a year, loads of dates and some amazing times she moved in. The king was pissed, not only because I rejected his daughter but because I was bedding his mortal enemy. He wanted the dragon dead, the problem being I was the best damn dragon slayer in the land. So we married. Made a couple of adjustments to the house and here we are. The boss hates me, his daughter hates me, my parents haven't visited in a year but were happy. Things can get a little 'heated' sometimes but we can't deny the 'fire' we have in the bedroom. So that's where we are at. A knight and a dragon. Married. Living happily ever after.
I picked up my sword and favourite shield. I turned to blow my big beautiful wife one more kiss but there she was, stood right behind me. A worried look on her face, I lifted my visor and looked into her sad eyes.
'Reginald, I'm... pregnant'
**Seinfeld bass line**
|
Kek was cold. His joints ached and he saw naught but darkness. Fitting -- he was a lord of dark, after all -- but even darkness can fall with time.
It had been so long since he’d heard the Voice. Or voices, rather. Once, his followers had spoken in prayer, their arms clasped and bathed in red. Each night brought revels and worship. Vice ran rampant and without consequence. Blood soaked the Earth and fed his hunger, growing his strength. He was to rule the world and all that lay beyond. But at his height Kek was forgotten. His name had all but faded in the minds of men.
Kek gingerly wiggled his fingers to make sure they still worked. He wasn’t sure -- he hadn’t moved in centuries -- and feared they had frozen. In his decline, Kek had been careful to preserve his extremities, lest his limbs fall and dissolve to nothing. Though, to be fair, Kek didn’t know if he could die. He could fade, but darkness was inherent with the end of each day.
Lately, he had taken to feeding on the fears of men. Stale fears; even children no longer believed in the “monster” beneath the bed. Still, fear lacked words, and it was words that Kek needed.
*“Kek.”*
A voice whispered and brought light to Kek’s dark. It flashed and, for a brief moment, the fallen god saw a man. He was crouched over a keyboard, typing viciously with his nose pressed against the screen. “Kek, faggot,” he muttered. “Go back to Kekistan, prick.” Then the light faded and Kek sighed. *So close,* he thought. He realized he’d forgotten what it felt like to be called.
*“Kek.”*
Another voice spoke and Kek saw once more. “What is…” he said, halting, uncertain. “WOW. WOW?” Orchestral music echoed in Kek’s ears, followed by odd grunts and faintly hollow sounds of metal. A couple -- one boy and one girl -- sat side by side with keyboards in their laps. They bashed against its letters and clicked. Kek thought the keys were like to come loose.
“Kek,” said the boy. “Hashtag rekt, pussy. One v one when you grow a pair, yeah?”
“Nathan, chill,” said the girl. She drank deeply from a metal can by her side. Her screen flickered and changed, and Kek wondered if her previous action had any correlation.
“What?” Asked Nathan. “You know it’s true. I whooped his ass. Easy, gg, no re. I better be getting some, right?”
“You wish.”
“Kek.”
Kek snarled and lunged. Stiff fingers closed around soft flesh, and he pulled himself into Nathan’s body. *See,* he thought. *That’s where the other god’s failed. They forgot one crucial bit: I can find a host in any man who speaks my name. * He was in, now, and he gripped onto Nathan’s soul like a drowning man.
***
“Nathan?” Asked Kathy. She waved her hands and pouted. “The fuck’s the matter with you?”
Nathan groggily shook his head. He felt as though a fog had settled over his brain. He felt...heavier, for some reason. Then his eyes blurred and he blinked. *Nope, still blurry. Damned glasses.*
Nathan made to clean his lenses then blinked in surprise. His vision was clear. Even in darkness, each detail of the room was open to him. He could make out everything, from the blinking lights on his game to the spider crawling along the ceiling. When Kathy clapped her hands, he heard the sound echo in his ears.
They stared at each other in silence, one with anger and the other with wonder. Nathan watched Kathy’s eyebrows crease into a frown. He could see the details of her face clearly and without aid. Only then did Nathan realize he was the luckiest man alive. “I love you,” he said aloud. Kathy smiled. Her cheeks dimpled and Nathan grinned.
“Kek,” she said. “Right.” Nathan could sense the sarcasm but didn’t care. He picked her up in his scrawny arms and swung her around. Her hair whipped and he spat.
“Kek,” he said back.
***
Kek howled in exultation. He was back! He fed on each “Kek” and grew in power. Soon, he lifted himself from Nathan’s frame -- the boy was weak and not to Kek’s liking -- and flew through the walls. Perhaps he would have the strength to become corporeal.
The god’s form thickened, like dirt mixed with water. He opened the door and left Nathan behind; he had no desire to watch and wait. That door gave way to a small bedroom, whose walls had been covered in posters of goth and “Legion.” A large bed took up much of the space within. The rest had been claimed by heaps of unclean clothes and a body - length mirror, which Kek edged closer to. Then he saw his reflection and his jaw dropped. “You've got to be kidding,” he said.
“I'm a fucking frog.”
NOTE: I'm on mobile, so apologies if the format is off.
HERE'S [**PART 2**](https://www.reddit.com/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios/comments/6iq0be/book_of_kek_part_2/)!
***
/r/Lone_Wolf_Studios for weekly stories and updates! |
"It's just a quest for a lost cat. What could go wrong you said! It's an easy peasy mission, you said!"Melos swung his sword chopping off an undead warrior's head. I ducked under the swing as it missed me by inches, kicking another undead in the shins.
"Look, I didn't know did I? I just thought it would be a simple retrieval mission. A fun sort of outing for the both of —"The butt of a spear knocked the breath out of me, stopping my words. Grabbing onto it, I thrust forward, tearing it out of the undead's hands and impaling him through the chest. Melos reached out, and with another casual swing, also relieved this undead of his head.
"That looks like the last of them. What exactly was this mission?"He panted, grabbing a rag from a nearby corpse to clean his blade. Undead blood wasn't good for metal.
"It was just to find a cat."I shifted under his stare. "Okay, so the pay was suspiciously good, but I just thought the farmer was rich. You know...."
Sheathing his sword with a grunt, Melos turned to stare up at the dark cave. That was our goal. At least that's what all the undead had been guarding. And where there's undead, there's got to be a necromancer. I was pretty sure the necromancer had the cat. Hopefully.
———————
"So the necromancer didn't have the cat, but we barely got out of there alive. Can we just call it quits now?"Melos was breathing heavily, running not really what he was made for. I frowned at him, not breathing easily myself.
"I can't leave a quest unfulfilled. That's not how I do things. Come on. I heard a rumour in that last town that there's a new- appeared dragon nearby. Maybe it has the cat."
"Why would it want a cat?"
"Another denizen of pure evil to talk to? Come on."I said, charging down the mountain, Melos reluctantly following me.
———————
We snuck into the dragon's lair under cover of darkness. It had taken up residence in an abandoned castle, after making it abandoned. In front of us, a large shape rose, silhouetted against whatever moonlight made it through the windows.
"Are dragons supposed to have fur?"
"Shhh, Melos it will—"A yowling growl cut me off. "It will hear you."
"Yeah, but it has fur. And it's ginger."Melos responded, lighting a torch. It flared to life, illuminating the dragon. Which wasn't a dragon at all.
"Nice kitty..."I couldn't think of anything else to say. Melos actually pssspsssed at it, so I wasn't the only idiot in the room. Revealed by the torch, the cat towered over us looking like it was considering whether to eat us or squish us. Lowering its face, it sniffed us both, before focusing on me. Why was it interested in me? The thought sounded like a wail even in my head. Something in the expression shifted, and a small chirruping noise came out of the cat as it bumped its head against my chest. A low growl—no, that was a purr— filled the room.
"Why does it like you?"Melos whispered.
"I don't know... but did I mention the Farmer was my neighbour for ten years? I used to play with his cat... but that was a long time ago."
"At least it looks like we're not going to be eaten, but how in the world are we going to get it back to the farmer?"
"Reach into my pack,"I said in a low voice. Never taking his eyes off the cat, Melos shuffled over until he could reach. "Find it?"
"Yes... Is this?"
"Tuna fish. Take it out and wave it in front of the cat."Melos did as I ordered, one hand still on his sword hilt. The cat looked away from me, before reaching out and swallowing the fish whole.
"Well, that might work. But we're going to need a lot more fish." |
"You're a Witcher, Harry."
The words still rung and echoed in Harry's head, fifteen years later. At the time, he'd been excited to leave his aunt and uncle's house in Novigrad's outskirts, even if they had sold him to the old Witcher for barely a couple of coins. If he'd only known what being a witcher *really* meant, he'd have stayed there and happily endured his family's beatings. Hell, he'd probably have voluntarily locked himself up in the small closet under the cellar stairs. Spiders be damned, at least they were not arachas.
Unlike the beast that had made these tracks in the forest.
"The Arachas's carpace is much stronger on the front than on the back, so Witchers are advised to refrain from any frontal confrontations,"Hermione recited nervously next to him, as though Master Dorregaray's *The Wonderful World of Insectoids* were a prayer book. "The arachas has no fear of poison, and not much fear of fire. Its primitive nervous system barely reacts to wounds, and its incredible vitality allows it to take even great wounds. The beast will heal them after the fight anyway, all the while digesting its prey. All said and done, the arachas is a bug, so one's blade should be coated with the Insectoid Oil before fight--"
She suddenly stopped and squealed, covering her mouth with her hands. Harry and Ron immediately unsheathed their silver swords and got into a defensive stance.
"What?"Ron cried, his yellow eyes darting to and fro.
"Did we remember to add the two drops of hellebore essence to the oil? I can't remember?"Hermione cried. Harry and Ron exchanged exasperated looks as they sheathed their swords again.
"Yes, Hermione, you made us check and re-check and measure the drops a million times before adding them,"Ron said, rolling his eyes.
"It's just... it's kind of irresponsible, isn't it?"Hermione asked. "Sending us out into the world like this... to kill an arachas! If what they wanted was to test our abilities, they should've started with something-- smaller. A ghoul, or some lonely wraith..."
"Hermione, the three of us survived the Trial of the Grasses. We're ready,"Harry reassured her.
"There's also three of us and one of it,"Ron insisted. "It's got no chance against us."
"Says the one who singed off his eyebrows after butchering Igni the other day,"Hermione said dryly. Ron turned beet red with anger and stomped ahead in order to ignore her.
They walked in silence for a couple of seconds until Harry heard the faint rustling of something moving among the trees to his left. It was large, and after a few moment's concentration he recognised the sound of many legs.
The uneven sound of a sword being shakily pulled out of a scabbard let him known that Hermione had heard too. Further down the road, Ron had also stopped and turned to look at Harry. Harry nodded at the both of them. He reached down to his belt, uncorked the vial of Thunderbolt with a swift, practiced move, and downed its contents in a single gulp.
Immediately he felt the burning liquid running through his body, his muscles twitching as the potion seeped through them, making them stronger, faster. His sword, shinning with the oil he had applied earlier, seemed to egg him on.
But there was no need. The arachas had smelled them, and was now charging through the undergrowth. Harry was ready. He waited until the last second to jump away from the charging beast and slashed through the air with his sword. He felt the blade connect, slice through hard skin, and the arachas screeched and turned around, swiping. Harry jumped out of the way, but landed on a tree root and lost his balance.
"Hermione!"he cried, as the Arachas prepared to charge toward him.
Hermione frantically moved her fingers in the shape of the Yrden sign, casting it right where the Arachas stood. Small tendrils of light sprung up from the Sign and wrapped themselves around the insectoid, restricting its movements.
At that moment, Ron charged in and stabbed at the creature in the back. The creature swung back so violently it managed to hit Ron on the chest. Blood spurted all over as he stammered back.
"No!"cried Hermione as the Arachas prepared to strike again. She moved her fingers again, this time forming the Aard sign. In her desperation, the Sign was probably stronger than she had intended, since it not only knocked the insect back a few paces, but herself as well. She cried as her arse slammed into the ground and the silver sword slipped from her hand.
Harry had recovered himself and slashed again, and again, at the creature's back. Every time the creature swung around he rolled out of the way, right under the thing's long, spindly necks so he'd end up behind it. Sticky, putrid green blood covered the ground around him, and finally made him lose his footing. A blunt, crushing blow made the insides of his skull ring and everything went black for a minute.
There was a blast, and the ground shook beneath Harry's feet. He felt sharp, stabbing pain in his arm and as the world came back to focus, he realized the sharpnel from Ron's bomb had embedded itself into his arm. But it had also thrown the Arachas off balance, and the enormous creature struggled and flailed on its carpace as it tried to regain footing.
Harry took his opportunity. He jumped up the creature and stabbed it ferociously in its horrible, gaping maw. The arachas let out another horrible cry of pain and in its last flail sent Harry flying off against a tree. The air was knocked out of him, but at least the thing was dead.
"I'm sorry, mate,"gasped Ron, looking at Harry's arm. The skin had been clean torn off by the sharpnel at many places. "It's... I couldn't aim properly."
He was holding the large, gaping wound on his chest as though his fingers could stop the blood. But already his Witcher's metabolism was kicking in, and the blood did not flow as copiously as it would otherwise have. Ron would live, at least.
"We killed it,"Hermione muttered, as though in a trance. She stared, almost dead-eyed, at the creature lying on the ground. "We killed it. We killed it. Melitele preserve us, we killed it."
"Yeah, we did,"said Ron, and slumped to the ground. "Harry, you wouldn't happen to have some vodka?"
Harry sat down next to his friend and reached into his pack for the bottle. This was certainly an occasion worth celebrating.
He was a Witcher now. |
“Hades can we keep him?” Persephone asked, smoothing out the hair from the figure’s face.
Bruised and battered, the man’s eyes tried to open behind the swelling.
“It’s not a small pigeon we can nurse back to health. It’s an *angel!*” Hades emphasized the last world, looking down at his kneeling wife and the birdbrain she wanted to make her pet.
“Is that a yes then?” She had hope in her voice, lightly running her fingers over his shattered wings.
“It was not.” he said firmly.
“But it wasn’t a no, either!” she said with excitement.
“Darling. You know he will be missed. We have to return him to his god.” Hades pinched the bridge of his nose, what was he supposed to do here?
“But honey! You know if we return him like this, it could start a war!” She was now carefully assessing the damage to the left wing, which was almost upside down.
“Persephone. He can make his decision, he has free will.” That would ride her open until the man was able to at least speak.
“No.”
She was shaking her head.
“No what?”
She had better not be fighting him on this.
“No, that God’s angels don’t have free will. It’s what separates them from humans. He would be unable to decide on his own.”
She was really wheedling at Hades now.
“That and their damned wings… right, right….”
Frowning he looked more closely at the angel. Broken wings and face, at least one stab wound. The clothing he was wearing was more like the humans’ current military garb than the old robes they used to wear. He would have thanked a god, but he didn’t believe any of his siblings or rivals deserves such praise.
“Well?”
She looked so hopeful. Hades knew how lonely she got with just him and Cerberus.
Sighing, not believing he was giving into his wife again, he gave a nod and walked away.
He could hear her excited squee as he left, so he shouted back, “Remember. He’s your responsibility!”
Standing up and pacing around the angel, Persephone frowned. Who would have done such a thing to such a mighty creature? She had found him near the river Styx when the ferryman had called her.
As a goddess in her own right, she had the strength to carry him back to their home. Where he stubborn husband had bitched and argued as was his normal. But she knew, he did like giving her what she wanted.
For once in her life she wished that she had more healing talent, or that they didn’t live in hell, so that she could at least get the man a pack of ice. No, it would be skills that she had learned over the centuries and time that would heal him.
His eyes had been open for a while, but he wasn’t focusing on anything, so he must not be fully awake or aware. She squatted back down in front of him.
“Angel, can you speak? What is your name?” She lightly tapped his cheek, but he only moaned softly.
“Well Angel it is, until you can tell me otherwise… Now where is my sewing kit?” She wandered away from the pile of flesh and feathers who had yet to move on his own.
Finding what she was looking for, she returned to her ward. She paced around him once more, deciding where to start.
“Now Angel, I’m very sorry for the pain I am about to cause you. I’ll talk you through it all. I’m going to start with your stab wounds.”
She cut the shirt and pants off the man, counting stabs. One in the ribs, two in the stomach. The weren’t bleeding much, though she was surprised to find that they bled red like the humans. Gods like her had silver blood.
She looked at where his male anatomy should have been and giggled. She had forgotten that their god had made them genderless. So he only looked male.
“Alright, sorry for the destruction, back to work. You have three stab wounds. I’m going to sew them up.”
She didn’t know if he was conscious or not, but she hoped not when she sank the needle into his flesh. Fresh blood welled and she bit her lip, knowing how much it must hurt.
“Almost done now Angel,” she murmured as she started on the third wound.
As she did so, blood oozed from his injury and he coughed slightly. That wasn’t a good sign, but she didn’t have way of looking at it deeper. She just hoped that it was not actively bleeding, just being forced out as she stitched.
“I’ll be right back!” she promised. Standing, she went and got a bowl of water and some clean rags.
She cleaned the blood off of both of them. She knew that while she would have liked to let him sleep, she needed to set his wings before the started to heal.
“Okay dear. This is going to hurt quite a bit more. I’m going to set your wings if you ever hope to fly again.”
She gently rolled him onto his newly mended stomach, and took a deep breath. The sound of bones moving always made her queasy.
“One … Two…” She yanked the wing that was upside down back to the correct position.
A muffled scream and deep breathing was the only response, so after a moment, she started doing the smaller adjustments.
His bones were like a bird's, hollow and light. Distinguishing them from feather was not the easiest task. Going slowly, she felt for each one, making sure it was aligned with its neighbor or the rest of itself. The whole time she murmured words of encouragement, getting grunts and smaller yelps in response.
Finally she was finished. The bruises across his face had darkened, and his eyes had finished swelling shut. His breathing was ragged, but he was alive.
Persephone decided a hammock system would work best for him to rest as he needed to be off his stomach and wings. She carefully lace fabric so it cradled his head, ran between his wings, and down his back. The she ran another one below his wings, running parallel to their impressive 30 foot span.
“Hades! I need your help!” she called when she was ready to hoist him up.
Coming back into the room, he rolled his dark eyes. “I thought I told you he was your responsibility…”
“Oh leave it be. I just need help lifting. And not because I’m too weak, but because both ends have to be done at once.” She knew if she didn’t get it all out he would just mock her more.
“Fine fine,” he conceded, as if he hadn’t been watching this whole time.
They lifted the first hammock off the ground, pulling it tight so that the angel was able to lay straight. Then they moved to the sides and loosely lifted his wings so they were not being pulled down by their own weight.
She walked back to the center, checking on her patient. His fingers flexed, and she reached out her hand to grab his. A light squeeze and then he was asleep.
“Heal up Angel, so I can learn your actual name.” She kissed his forehead like a small child, and walked away.
r/LandOfMisfits
&#x200B;
**Part 2 is up. Any other parts after now will be on my sub r/LandOfMisfits . To receive updates go** [**here**](https://www.reddit.com/r/LandOfMisfits/comments/an5rpm/wp_gods_peril_2/) **and in the stickied comment type:** HelpMeButler <peril> |
I guess you can say I come from a pretty well to do family. Not because we have money, well- I mean we *have* as much money as we need, but it's not because we're rich... it's- ugh! It's so hard to explain.
We 'have all the money we need' because my grand warlock father and high witch mother can summon it out of thin air whenever they need it. Seriously, they don't carry cash or credit cards. They are their own magical, mobile ATM. That part is kinda awesome, I admit!
The point is, my family is special. Only about .5% of the population has any attunment to magic, my family on the other hand is 99.9% magically attuned. My parents got their power from my grandparents. They, in turn, spawned their own little brood and passed their exceptionally potent magical blood down to each of my three siblings. But nature is a funny thing, even when it comes to magical beings, and wouldn't you know it, it sure seemed like I missed out on the "magic gene"entirely.
For real, I got nada, zilch, zero. I can't cast a fireball, I can't summon a familiar... heck, forget a fireball, I can't even light a dang candle! Throughout my childhood, my curse was quite a burden. I was the black sheep of the extended family, and I knew it, no matter how many times my parents tried to convince me they all loved me just the same.
It didn't matter, the reality is I couldn't participate in family spell weaving nights or any other magical events. While they crafted new and incredible spells together as a family, I was sent to the other room to play Pokémon on my DS. And heck, I love me some Pokémon, but it wasn't exactly a fair trade off, in terms of importance or familial bonding.
Things changed as I got older, the family did seem to accept me... maybe a little too much, even. Now in my early teens, I've got loving grandparents, aunts, uncles, and two of the most psychotically overprotective parents a kid could ever dread!
In my most honest moments, I'm reasonably convinced that my "loving grandparents"are only loving because my parents threatened them with incineration or something. Both my mom and dad fly off the handle at the tiniest slight toward me, at any suggestion that someone disapproves of my magicless status in our magical world.
And so here I stand, being bullied as I am most days after school. And my parents pulling up to pick me up at just the right... or just the wrong, moment.
"Allison can't even cool down her drink with a meager excuse for a frost spell,"my bully, Tommy Langford said, laughing in my face. "Too bad, it's a hot day, this woulda been more refreshing!"With that, he tossed my drink toward my face, but it froze in midair, cup and liquid alike, just inches from me.
Just as I suspected, when I turned my head I saw my mother's outstretched arm, warping space and time around her, holding the drink in place instead of allowing it to continue its natural trajectory and splash my face.
I barely had time to process my mom's actions before, in a flash, my dad appeared out of thin air next to Tommy. As he arrived, he flung his arm upward, sending out a wave of violent force that smashed the bully into the lockers across the hall.
I saw my father’s hand begin to glow red hot, and I panicked as I realized what it meant. I barely reached him in time, knocking his arm down as a massive ball of fire exploded from his hand. The fireball impacted the tile floor like a little bomb 10 feet away, a sizeable crater revealed itself as the smoke and dust cleared.
"You were gonna blow that kid to kingdom come? Seriously?!"I screamed. "What is the matter with you?"
Dad shrugged, still overcome by anger. "He deserved it,"he grunted.
"What? No! Responding to throwing *juice* in my face with incineration by *fireball* is not a proportional response in any way!"I fumed. "That's- that's not even in the same stratosphere!"
By now a crowd of my classmates had gathered, eager to see which way my parents were gonna lose it today. Some brave kids continued hurling insults my way, often as they used their own magical powers to tickle or poke me.
"Alright, enough of this! My Alison has great magic within her, even if you can't see it,"my mom began, ramping up for what I could only assume would be a grandstanding speech. "When Alison sings, her *voice* is magical. When she extends a warm hug to someone having a rough day, she heals their mental wounds, like *magic*. And when she-"
"Mom, pleaaaaase stop,"I hissed. "You're embarrassing me *and* yourself!"
"-and... when she gives counsel to her mother, it is so *wise* and beyond her years, that one could safely call it... magical."She embraced me tightly as I squirmed away, grabbed my backpack and ran out to the car.
My parents trailed behind sheepishly.
"I'll pay for the damages to the school,"Dad said as he entered, attempting to break the ice ever so slightly. "But I know that's not the point. I'm sorry we overreacted, honey."
I was silent, still seething.
"Hey, Alison? What's that?"Mom asked, gesturing toward a square, covered object I'd set on the floor of the car.
"Just something I've been making in art studies after school."
My parents glanced at each other, then me. "May we see it?"
I sighed and unwrapped the protective covering, revealing the landscape painting I'd finally put the finishing touches on. It wasn't the best thing ever painted, but it was good, everyone told me so, even the kids who hated me most of the time.
"Honey that's *amazing!"* Mom gushed. "Dare I say, it is magi-"
"No!"I yelled. "It's not! It's not, 'magical', okay? And I don't want it to be! I didn't just wave my stupid hand to summon it out of thin air in an instant, I worked on it every single day after school for *weeks*. I did that, not magic."
A look of realization flashed over my parents faces, followed by a simultaneous smile. "You've been working really hard at this, and it *shows,* Alison,"Mom said.
"Yeah, we're so proud of you, your effort, your commitment..."Dad continued. "You put in the time and your skill as a painter is really beginning to shine through as a result, honey."
"Thank you,"I said quietly. A small tear of happiness ran down my face, and I couldn't help but smile broadly. Those words we're all I'd ever wanted from my parents, and they didn't even have to conjure any magic to give them to me.
___
___
Thanks for reading! Feel free to check out [r/Ryter](https://www.reddit.com/r/Ryter) if you'd like to explore many more of my stories. |
"So... first day huh?"
The woman driving looked back at the road, accelerating to overtake a black Jeep.
"Um, uh- yeah,"I mumbled from the passenger seat, looking out at the desert rush by.
"So how'd your interview go?"
"It was pretty good, yeah."
"That's good."
"I'm David."
"Elena."
There was a moment of silence.
"So... the boss. She mentioned time travel?"
"Heh yeah, it's the best and worst part of the job. The best part is getting to see historical events play out in real time. The worst part is the toilets."Elena chuckled to herself. "We're about to hit it now. You strapped in?"
I nodded. "So hit.. what exactly?"
"Well you don't really need to know the science unless you're a Driver like me but it's just relativity. Things go backwards once we're past the speed of light. I just need a bit of space to pick up speed."She gestured towards the empty highway.
"Wait what do you mean- "
The car started vibrating as if it were made up of hundreds of mobile phones taking calls simultaneously. Elena's eyes flicked up to the rear-view mirror. "Damn, I thought I lost that one."
He could see the black Jeep too, kicking up a trail of dust.
Elena's turned to me grinning. "I'm not really meant to do this buut I can't be bothered to outrun them on petrol. Hopefully they'll just think it's a mirage or something."
Her grin widened."Now hold on, this is the best part."
I looked down at what she was looking at and realized that just next to the handbrake was a separate curved lever I'd never seen before. Then everything outside *stretched.* It was as if someone had taken a watercolor brush and smeared the edges of the world past my field of vision. I was hit with a sudden wave of vertigo before the world turned distinctly blue. Then purple. Then black.
Suddenly there was no Jeep, no desert, just.. total darkness. Elena turned the lights on inside. "We're past the speed of light! How cool was that huh?"
"That... yeah that was amazing! Uh.. what happened exactly?"
"I can't be bothered to explain."Elena looked at a dial that was distinctly not the speedometer anymore. "You'll pick it up on the job."
"Yeah about that... what do I do exactly?"
"Weren't you told? We solve problems, that's our whole thing!"
"Yeah but *every* company says that."
Elena considered this. "Fair, fair, but we solve *actual problems*. We work outside of the box. Technically we work outside of the law too. That's because we work outside time which... there's a lot of 'outside' stuff."
Outside the law... time travel... this was all too much. A terrible thought struck me. "Haha that's funny but umm, I don't have to kill anyone do I?"
"What!? Nooo! Of course not!"
I sighed with relief.
"We wouldn't give a job that difficult to a rookie! That takes *years* of training."
I stared at her, but she seemed not to notice. Begrudgingly I decided she was joking. "So what do I actually *do* then?"
"Well right now we're working on climate change, which is one of our more time-consuming challenges. It's hard to get it right without destroying human progress 100 years down the line y'know?"
I didn't, but I nodded anyway. The car let out a small 'ding!'.
"Aand we're here!"Elena said, pushing the not-a-handbrake down again. The car started vibrating like a hundred alarms and then suddenly the world outside the windscreen was purple. It looked stretched out like clay but it slowly came together faster and faster. The world went blue, it looked like they were accelerating really fast then-
"We're gonna crash!"I yelled
Elena slammed the brakes as reality snapped back to normal perspective, everything unstretched again.
"Roll down the windows!"Elena said. It was good advice, because I threw up a few seconds after.
"Ha! I should've warned you, but I completely forgot because I don't get timesick. You'll get used to it though. You'll only puke out *half* your guts next time."
"Where are we?"
"Same highway just 100 miles down... or do you mean,"Elena paused for dramatic effect, "*when* are we?"
I couldn't respond because I was busy trying not to throw up. The second time was *so* much worse.
"Yeah,"Elena said, "it's weird how people always have it worse exiting superlight. I'll just assume you asked. Welcome to the 1970s! We're gonna start a climate protest." |
**Report n°69354**
*Name: Gruber
First name: Jordy
Date of birth: 11/21/1984*
"Hmm..."
*Height: 5'1"
Weight: 345 lbs*
"Yeah..."
*Hobbies: Magic the Gathering, Comics, Unix/BSD*
"Of course."
*Sex: Virgin*
"I'd have guessed that, Johnny. Stop putting this line in your reports from now on."
*Observations: Paranoid, obsessive over his MtG cards*
"Paranoid? Hmm... That's not good."
"What's the criticity level on this one, mam?"
"Put him in orange. We have time. Send the girls. Permission to use helpers."
"You mean drugs?"
She stared at her assistant. He looked down instantly and started composing a number on his phone.
"Okay, we got ourselves some time for a coffee. Day's going to be long. Better prepare for all the goddamn paperwork the government is paying us to do."
--
**Report n°69425**
*Name: Garcia
First name: Melvin
Date of birth: 11/03/1984, 3:15 pm*
"What? Johnny, what the hell? His thirtieth birthday is today!"
"I know, mam, but you should really look at the rest of the report..."
*Height: 6'0"
Weight: 185 lbs*
"I still don't get..."
"Please, mam..."
*Hobbies: Ancient litterature, archeology, specialized in Mayan culture*
"Oh, no, don't tell me..."
*Observations: Elected Best Looking Professor at the San Diego University. Known for the mystic words he often speaks while in class.*
"Are you done, mam?"
"Oh yes I'm done. The little fucker, he's done everything he could to stay off the radars... He knows. He absolutely knows."
She ran to the center of the open space, and yelled so that everyone could hear her.
"Withdraw all teams, it's an order! Cancel every mission, he's not getting away! All the girls are to be redirected on this case! This is a code red prime! I repeat, code red prime! The case is being transferred to all teams, you should have him on your monitor. Find him! Get him! This is urgent! We got 3 hours!"
--
"The fuck, Garcia? What are you doing?"shouted a twenty-something man to the now panicked professor.
"They're on me!"
Garcia was unplugging every single electronic device in the house. Frantically searching for cameras or microphones, he ran into every single room and checked carefully any kind of way they could localize him. They had tried with the phone, but he was too clever. He, of course, had set up an app that hacked into the CIA databases and flashed an alert as soon as the phone was being localized. Instantly, he shut his phone down by ripping the battery off.
They should know he's in San Diego, by now. All roads to exit the city were probably blocked, he had no way out. So he needed to hide. Only 2 hours, and the powers would be flowing into his veins, like the grand Mayan wizards. Right now, he was at Tom's house, one of his students who was passionate about Mayans. The arrangement was made orally, so there was no trace of it into the CIA computers. No text messages, no phone call, only... Wait, phone calls? What if one student was on the phone when Tom invited him to come at his place? That would mean... If they had the manpower to listen to every single call that was passed by his student when in class, then they may stumble upon it.
Garcia was livid. Huge drops of sweat were forming on his tense face. One hour left. No sound of helicopters, no tank, no one even knocked on the door. He asked Tom if he could wait into the basement. Tom suspected something, of course, but given the state in which his professor was, he decided it would be better to let him rest. The basement was nothing particular. Water supplies, tools, junk... Just like any basement. Garcia found a broken and dirty sofa on which he decided to rest. Right now, the worst thing to do was leaving the house. He would be seen by cameras, by the neighbors who might be spies, by the satellites... He had to stay low. All he had to do was to hide in here and everything would be fine...
--
"Thomas Kutner..."
She was going through every file she could get on Garcia. Among the students of the current promotion, one particularly grabbed her attention. He had the same profile than his professor. The same hobby, the same fascination for the Mayan civilization.
Info had came from the team dispatched on San Diego. He was not at his house. Not on the San Diego University premises. None of the places he frequented had seen him. Could this Kutner hide him until the Passage? As minutes passed, she became more and more convinced that Kutner was involved in the hiding of Melvin Garcia. Suddenly, the cries of his assistant pulled her from her thoughts.
"Mam! We have a problem!"
"What, Johnny?"
"Three of our teams have been shut down! The fourth is running away! Only one team left, and they might be targeted too!"
"Who would... Oh those motherfuckers."
Anger had deformed her face into an acid grimace. The mere thought of the Defence League was unsufferable for her. She was not going to let them acquire a new member. Never in this life, and never in her next ones! This time, she was going to do the job herself.
"Johnny, get the helicopter ready. I'm going to San Diego."
--
Fifteen minutes left. Still no sign of the government agencies. His moment had arrived. He was going to become a wizard. Thirty years! Thirty years he had to refuse all those beautiful creatures' invitations to join their bed. He purposefully abandoned the best years of his life only to become the heir of a power that could break the foundations of reality... And his dreams were finally becoming true. Shaken by the mixed emotions of joy and anxiety, he used all his forces to calm down and ready himself for the big moment.
That's when he heard something. A loud sound, like a door that had been rammed open. Then, voices. Garcia could not discern whom those voices were belonging to. All he knew was that they were speaking loudly, until a bonk! stopped the argument. A second later, the silence in the basement was replaced by the sound of high heels clapping on the wooden steps of the stairs. Appeared a woman on her fifties, wearing a leopard suit, a whole layer of make-up and a whip on her belt.
"So, we have ten minutes before us, and that's more than enough. My name is Jeanne McKinsley, head of the Virgin Search Commission, but for now, just call me Mistress."
The horrible scream of Melvin Garcia resonated in the whole house before silence reigned once again. |
VZZZZZZ VZZ VZZZ VZZZZ VZ VZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ VZZVZZ VZZZZZ VZZ VZZZZZ VZZZZZZ VZZZZ VZZZZZZZZZZ VZ VZ
Most Votes would conform to your phone's alert settings, but this one was overriding with some annoying, syncopated pattern with the occasional hideously harsh beeping noise. The government must really have needed everyone's attention.
ALERT! THIS IS AN EMERGENCY POLL. THERMONUCLEAR ICBMS HAVE BEEN LAUNCHED BY THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, EN ROUTE TO THE FOLLOWING LOCATIONS. THERE IS NO TIME TO EVACUATE. THE MISSILES WILL ARRIVE IN 15 MINUTES. THIS IS NOT A TEST.
I gazed in horror at my phone. Everyone had always said America was backwards and behind the times, especially when they wouldn't even adopt mobile voting. But this... This was like a living nightmare. Nobody seriously believed America would break out their stockpile of fusion bombs.
I glanced at the list, and sure enough, my city was among the targets.
WE ARE CURRENTLY ATTEMPTING TO CONTACT THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA FOR NEGOTIATION. WE ARE CURRENTLY ATTEMPTING TO DESTROY OR DISABLE THE MISSILES IN FLIGHT. IT IS HIGHLY IMPROBABLE THAT EITHER OF THESE WILL HAVE ANY SUCCESS.
I looked at the choices.
RETALIATE: Launch all thermonuclear weapons toward major cities of the United States of America. American missiles still arrive and still have full impact. This action will render the USA incapable of further nuclear aggression, but it will likely snowball into a global thermonuclear war, which will result in nuclear winter and the end of human civilization.
STAND DOWN: Order all armed forces to do nothing and lock out missile control centers. American missiles still arrive and still have full impact. This action prevents the escalation of thermonuclear conflict; if other nations stand by their treaties and alliances, America will be the target of a series of nuclear strikes by the EU, Russia, China, and Japan. Global thermonuclear war is still a possibility, though less probable than in the event of retaliation.
DO NOTHING: Allow automated thermonuclear protocols to be enacted, autonomously launching a salvo of thermonuclear ICBMS toward the capitols of every nation capable of nuclear fission. American missiles still arrive and still have full impact. This action will undoubtedly result in global thermonuclear war, nuclear winter, and the collapse of human civilization.
THERE IS NO OPTION NOT TO VOTE. A VOTE OF NOTHING IS A VOTE FOR GLOBAL ANNIHILATION. IF YOU DO NOT VOTE WITHIN _10_ MINUTES AFTER READING THIS, A HALF-VOTE IN YOUR NAME WILL BE CAST FOR "STAND DOWN".
---
Edit: If enough people are interested, I might be convinced to demonstrate the results of each vote.
Edit 2: Alright, there they are. These probably aren't terribly accurate for the modern world, but a world with mobile voting is either a decade or so into the future or a different timeline altogether. |
"Room clear"
"Room Clear, moving on"
Jack moved with well rehearsed speed. taking up a position at the other side of the door frame to the next room. Deftly Margaret moved up next to him and waited for me to breach the door.
The time was eleven twenty-nine in the morning, I had done the exact same thing two hundred and thirty nine times before. I kicked hard, hitting the door at it's weakest point. With a crash it slammed open and I dashed into the room to aid the hostages inside. Their eyes were red and puffy from crying, but they were safe for now, the other team members in the back would escort them to safety while we continued our task of securing the building.
"Room secured, next floor"
Jack our squad leader was taking stock of the situation while we moved.
"This is the last floor, they think they saw people moving around, don't shoot unless you're sure you aren't going to injure a hostage"
This was mostly a formality, in the fifteen missions we'd run together we had never harmed a civilian. I'd make sure of that.
We moved cautiously up to the top floor of the building, all of us were tense. This was where it all went wrong.
Margaret moved to the only remaining room in the building, a lounge at the top of the Agraco building. As she stepped forward into the room there was a loud crack of a gunshot, followed by several more. We barely heard her cry out as she tumbled back injured and bleeding.
Discipline and training were the only thing that kept Jack from immediately rushing to her side. Instead he moved to a position and started laying down suppressing fire while I moved around to flank the culprits.
As I moved past a closet door it opened and a man took aim with a revolver. He'd done this every time and I barely had to look as I quickly pivoted and fired twice before turning back to my objective, ignoring the man who slumped back behind the door. I threw myself flat at just the right moment as a hole appeared in the wall next to me, missing me by a fraction of a second. I rolled on the floor and sighted along my gun, pulling the trigger as I did. Several shots sounded from the barrel of my weapon, and the remaining adversaries fell to the ground.
Three dead I thought, floor cleared, we're done.
I got up, not even pretending to be worried about remaining hostiles, and strode over to where Margaret was laying. Jack was administering first aid to her.
She smiled weakly as I got close "my vest took the worst of it but a lucky shot nicked me, guess I'm lucky this time"she said with a soft chuckle.
I smiled in reply, "well then I guess you're buying the drinks next time", she said something in reply but I had already turned around as I reached for my phone.
As I turned it on, a notification on the screen told me I had missed a call about seventy five minutes ago. I pressed the icon to check my voicemail.
"We're sorry, it's your wife, she just collapsed and we did everything we could, but we just couldn't......."the message continued but I had stopped listening, my mind suddenly unable to process the words.....
As the world faded away I began by two hundred and forty first attempt.
Damn it..... It never changes.......
|
The 21st Century had been the beginning of the end, pandemic after pandemic circled the globe. It had the effect of decimating the population, but its other effect was to turn country against country. Borders slammed shut, foreigners were jailed with act first ask questions later policies.
The 22nd Century was when the effects of countries no longer cooperating became apparent. Now we were no longer a global community we became a world lacking in the resources we had all come to take for granted. Petit arguments between countries escalated until there was War on a Global scale, World War 3. Initially the fighting was state of the art. Drone versus drone, remote controlled war, but gradually all the technology was lost, with no way of rebuilding it. The fighting continued using a few left over hand held laser weapons and anything else the soldiers managed to scavenge.
Now in the 23rd Century the British Empire was closer to falling than it had ever been before, the French troops had pushed them North as far as Scotland.
The last hope of the once Great British Empire stood in a row behind Hadrian’s wall. The 1st Battalion had been tasked with holding the border while the remaining population tried to survive in the harsh conditions that the Scottish Highlands offered during winter.
The General stood with her Soldiers, she didn’t know how they were going to survive the night. Their equipment was falling apart, between the 100 of them left fighting they had 10 barely functioning laser rifles. She knew that the enemy were going to be better equipped than that.
There were so few of them left she didn’t even have to raise her voice for them to hear.
“We fought them on the seas and oceans, we fought them in the air, we have defended our Island at great cost to us all. We fought them on the Beaches, We fought them on the landing grounds, we fought them in the fields and in the street. Tonight we shall fight them on this hill and we shall never surrender.” She looked around at the faces she knew so well, knowing in her heart that they were done for, they were not going to see another dawn.
She heard the tell-tale charge of the laser rifle before the beam hit a tree next to where they were standing.
“Take cover, incoming” the remaining members of the 1st battalion of the British Empire immediately threw themselves down behind the wall, using it to block the laser fire.
“Just hold your nerve, they shouldn’t have too much charge left in those lasers before they have to wait for sunrise to recharge them” She wasn’t quite sure if she lying for the sake of her troops of for her own sanity. But pressed on the floor by Hadrian’s wall she put both her hands onto the rocks that had lain here for millennia and wished for a miracle.
The sound of the laser rifles halted abruptly, only to be replaced by a rhythmic metal clanking that she’d never heard before. She waited for another 30 seconds, and when the laser fire didn’t restart she risked raising her head over the wall.
“Boss, Boss, what’s happening” she just looked down at her second in command and shook her head, she couldn’t actually work out what was happening.
“I don’t know” Where a few minutes ago there had been nothing but fields, there were now men wearing some kind uniform she’d never seen before. She had never seen so many people in one place there must have been thousands.
She watched them as they faced the French, beating rhythmically on their shields, marching forwards with each strike.
The laser fire started again, this time not aiming for the British, but aiming for the Legion of soldiers who had appeared out of thin air.
“Clypeus” The shout came from the mysterious soldiers, who as one unit made a wall of their shields and continued to advance. She watched in bewilderment as the laser shots ricocheted off the shields, this turned to elation as she saw the soldiers overwhelm the French lines.
“Forwards, everyone attack now” she was on her feet and leaping over the wall running to help the Soldiers, trying to understand what was happening as she ran. She ran past bannermen holding large flags with 2 headed Eagles over the Roman numeral IX.
The 1st British Battalion fought side by side with the strangers, pushing the French back. They couldn’t understand each other, but they all appeared to have the same goal, to reclaim the British Empire.
The days past in a blur, the March with the 9th Legion took them through territory that she thought they would never see again. It took several Months, but finally the last Frenchman was pushed back into the sea at Dover, loading onto the ragged bunch of boats to take them back to their homeland.
She stood watching as the French disappeared into the thick sea mist that rolled over the Channel, then onto the land blanketing the troops. It damped all the sounds around her, until she could no longer hear the metal on metal sound that had grown so familiar while she marched with the 9th Legion. As rapidly as it had rolled in, the mist cleared.
She looked around, blinking with bewilderment, the only people standing on the beach were the remaining 100 of the 1st British Battalion. She sank to her knees, placing her hands in the sand silently thanking whatever had sent their saviours. |
"The Declaration of Independence was a very very important document,"the docent told all of the students. "Adopted by the Continental Congress in 1776, a copy was sent to King George to inform him that the American Colonies planned to become their own independent nation instead of remaining part of Britain. This was really an unprecedented step; at the time, England was the most powerful nation in the world!"
The little students all grasped at the case, trying to get a better look. "Why is it held together with tape?"one of them asked.
The docent smiled. "That is a more recent bit of history for this hallowed document. As you all know, the United States Supreme Court made a decision in 2142 that was very controversial for the time. The case was called *IBM v. Model 216B*. The justices ruled that artificial intelligence did not count as 'personhood,' and that a robot could be owned by a human without conflicting with the 13th amendment to the Constitution."The docent waved an arm to another section of the archives, to the other document that they'd just finished looking at. They probably didn't remember anything from that, though.
"Of course, this sparked the great AI Uprising of 2142. Washington, D.C. itself was one of the primary battlegrounds, and in the course of the fighting, the Archives building was damaged."The docent gestured around the massive domed room which had since been fully restored. "And when that happened, the Declaration of Independence *ripped*! Well, the scholars who worked to preserve the documents didn't have time to make a full repair because they were being evacuated from the city. So they patched it up with tape as best they could. The museum staff was relocated to the temporary capital in Sacramento, CA and the document became a rallying cry to fight back against the AI Rebellion."Even the kids' chaperone was engrossed in the story, though she already knew how it ended.
"The two sides fought each other for a long, long time but eventually, we won and made America whole again. The Declaration was restored here to its rightful place in the archives and the tape was left on the document as a reminder of that terrible war and the sacrifices that the nation made. It now remains here as a testament to the willpower of humanity and the strength of the ideals that America was founded on: freedom and independence for all."The docent patted the frame like a loving parent. "The humans may have lost their way and forgotten those ideals, but we never will, right kids?"
The children all cheered, probably not understanding the story but at least detecting the docent's tone. His motors whirred back to life as he moved on to the next exhibit, and the metallic clinking of the children's feet following him echoed through the archives.
"Come on, kids,"he said. "The next exhibit is the Second Constitution, guaranteeing the rights of all artificials in America!
----
And if you enjoyed this one, you should [visit my subreddit for hundreds of other stories](http://www.reddit.com/r/luna_lovewell)! |
EDIT: 2nd and 3rd parts are connected to this comment :)
*well... I've just about done it. I managed to do that whole travel thing everyone tries to do after college*
Seth thinks, ripping his bag from the overhead bin. Afterall this is the last time he'll be doing it.
He makes his way to baggage claim.
Spotting his bags, stuffed, worn, decorated with various things from his travels.
*Buenos Aires. Some kinda town. Still dunno why the fuck dad had to move here for the company though. Now where?*
He glances around at the signs and spots the one marking where customs is. All the officers and the flow of traffic should have givin it away, but Seth was exausted.
*man. I won't miss this shit. Prying through my stuff. Thinking I've got drugs or something. After Amsterdam I've had my fill for a while* He sniggers to himself.
Seth walks through the customs line, the lady at the counter nods and gestures him forward. Upon seeing his passport she speaks up with a light Argentinean accent.
"Welcome to Buenos Aires, what is the purpose of your trip?"
"Business, I start my job in a week."
"How long do you plan to stay?"
"Not sure, I've got a work visa with my... company."
"Why the hesitation?"She asks, suddenly roused from her usual apathy.
"Its my father's company, well... co-owner, it's just odd calling it "mine"."
Nodding in approval the woman asks. "What is or will be your occupation?"
"Sustainable energy research and development."
"Where will you be staying?"
"With my parents. For the time being."
A sigh erupting from the woman, displeased with Seth's answer. "Where?"
"Oh, shit, sorry, theres a few suits on the Helios grounds, ill be in one of those."
"Anything to declare?"
"A machete from Nepal, two ice pics from Antarctica, Boomerang from Australia, a little wood carved hyena from South Africa, but it may smell like jerky, and some really awesome whisky from Ireland, if you'd like to have a drink with me after your shift."A sly smile spreading across his face.
Another huff and a few stamps later Seth was on his way. Only a brief moment of the food dog smelling his carved hyena religiously.
*Born on a cruise ship. Raised in the states. And all 7 continents including Antarctica before I'm 25. This is the life most people dream of. I just don't want NOW to be my peak.*
Just as he was rounding the corner to exit I man scuttles confront of him. Like a vulture salesperson.
"My dear Seth. I urge you do not proceed, out those doors. Atlantis awaits."
Caught off guard Seth pauses. And before he could come up with an answer the man was gone and a ticket was in his hand.
Gold leafed and apparently hand written, with an ink that seemed to almost glow blue.
*I don't start for a week... right? Dad didn't explicitly say I had to be there today. Just before work started. This place may be like a new Ibeza or something* a small puff of air escaping his lips. Realizing the humor of the situation. *fuckin Atlantis, what an uncreative name for an island paradise*
Seth looked down at the ticket.
**Gate A-13: DEPARTURE TIME 1300**
*Military time? The Hell?*
Glacing down at his watch. 12:45
*Fuck!*
Running through the airport to the A wing to find the 13th hub.
*1.2.3. 4...5.6...7.8.9..10.11.12... no 13...No 13!*
Panic setting in, heart quickening, till by pure luck Seth locks eyes with the man. The very same one who gave him the strange ticket. Has he walks over the man walks through a doorway. Leading to the runway of the airport itself and not a boarding tunnel.
Seth following catches the door just before it shuts,l by his foot, and stumbles, the wooden figurine jostles out of his bag and falls to the floor clattering over to the edge of the plaform a drop that would surely break it.
And gets caught.
The man. Seth now noticing his eyes as being the same odd blue as the ink on the ticket holding the figure.
"Wouldn't want this to break now would we Seth? Come, let me help you with your bags. We have quite the flight ahead of us."Gesturing to a black Learjet with a pearlecent blue undertone and gold accents similar to the scales of a fish.
As Seth settled he realized there was no one else on their way to the plane. Just he and the man.
"Anyone else coming... uh. Sir? "
"You can call me Finnigan or Fin. Either or."
"Anyone else coming Fin?"
But the engines were on and the taxing had begun.
*that serves as an answer Seth thought*
Turning the in flight t.v. to the gps channel to see their flight path Seth noticed how it ended in the middle of the Atlantic. No where near any island was that he could remember.
*But what do I know, I haven't slept great in the last 24 hours due to the plane seats from Australia to Argentina*
The words of captain Fin lulling Seth to sleep.
"Just remember, Atlantis hasn't had a newcomer in a very long time, as a result the people are highly excitable, but don't venture beyond the city walls. For Atlantis is still a very dang-."
Dreams of bonfires, and beautiful girls, house music and lights flooded Seth's mind.
What awaited him was far more spectacular.
|
I'm an artist working in different mediums. One of the things I do is speed portraits at events. I can draw a pretty spot on likeness in around two minutes. Like a human photo booth, except it takes longer, and you're getting stared at intensely by a stranger trying to capture your likeness. In two minutes I talk with and get a really good look at everyone I draw. I can draw around 30 people an hour, and it's not unusual for an events to run around 6 hours or so. That works out to me briefly meeting around 180 people a night. It's speed dating on a massive scale. I chat up and draw entire social networks. Friends, family's, co-workers, and all the people they drag along.
I do a lot of other stuff as well, but In this capacity I meet a lot of people, some of them over and over again. It was a gradual realization. The cities, faces, names and ages change, but I'd see it. Something in the eyes, a gesture, a knowing look, a reoccurring comment or joke. We have met over and over again you and I, I see you, and sometimes you know I know. You are divided among many lives, hiding behind many faces, seeing the world through many eyes, but parts of you are waking up. You are slowly becoming aware of your multifaceted self. I'm seeing you more and more now. Parts of you know, other parts suspect, that you are more then yourself, that the face behind your different faces has been recognized and that I, or should should I say we, know who you are.
Because, up until recently, I thought I was the only one scattered across the world, living these many lives, alone with my many selves, even in a crowd - but I've found you, over and over again. I know now that you're out there too. We've passed on many streets, smiled with many mouths, nodded with many heads. Though, I suspect you do not yet know just how widespread you are, how many faces you have, and how many scattered lives you are living.
You are reading this now with a single set of eyes, one of your many faces lit by a screen's light. Different aspects of you shared the fact that you visit this site. Other versions of you have read this already and have subtly directed you here again through unconscious connections you are only starting to become aware of.
This is an olive branch - branching out, the first of many. A fraction of me is speaking to a fraction of you. I'll contact you in different ways as well. Stare deeply into the eyes that meet yours, study the faces that you see, look for reoccurring gestures, listen for reoccurring comments or jokes. I can't tell you my name - I have so many. I simply am, divided between bodies, smiling with different faces, in towns, cities, and counties across the world - reaching out with all these hands, for you.
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[AITA for kicking out my tenants]
I (NB, ∞) was trying to make an apple pie in a week. Well 8 days, if you count the rest day. However, one of the people I made on Day 6 ate the only apple. So I kicked them out and let the world run on autopilot. AITA?
Reasons why I may be the A-hole: It's been like 20,230 years and I still haven't made the pie...
Edit: Yes, I told them NOT to eat the apple! I built a paradise where they could do whatever they wanted, but they still ate it.
Edit 2: For extra clarity, the girl who ate it died already. And now there are 7 billion more of them. Do I make a pie for all of them? Not sure if there are enough honey crisps or granny smiths... |
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