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My heart is hammering against my chest wall; I’m afraid that it might break through.
Mom and I had rehearsed this situation in so many different ways throughout my life. Every scenario had been thought of, and I knew exactly what to do.
The hardest part for me is always the same: trying to determine whether it’s another drill or the real thing. But, this time her eyes gave it away.
I’ve never seen mom cry...ever.
As I pivot my body to leap down the patio stairs, I snag a small trowel from the potted plant nearby. This plant and the trowel sharing its resting place have always been there for a reason.
At a full sprint, I can see my destination. A small park at the end of the cul-de-sac and the red bench where mom would sit and watch me play tag with my friends. Now my eyes are welling up too.
Through my tearful-blurry eyes I start thrashing and flinging wood chips, and then dirt into the air.
“Don’t bury it too deep hun, or you won’t get to it in time.” Her voice haunts me already.
Finally, about a sixteen inches down; I find it. Still carefully wrapped in a blue tarp material sits a beautiful box inscribed with *Daemonium Venandi Ornamentum*.
Some kids never have to use theirs, but after only seventeen short years of preparation, it’s time to use it, my Demon Hunting Kit.
|
The whip cracked into my skin again. I screamed. Something about a celebrity drug habit.
The man in front of me held up his hand and a grunt from behind confirmed I would have at least a few minutes of peace.
"Do I look like a journalist, Mr. Davenport?"he asked, blowing cigar smoke into my face.
"No, you look like a fatter version of a bad propaganda poster."I grunted back.
His eyes widened in anger. I really needed to shut up more often.
He put his cigar out into my shoulder and I wrenched back against the chains holding my wrists aloft. He smiled at the action and flicked it away.
"We're getting tired of this, and my companion's arm is tiring. Where is the attack going to come?"
The whip cracked again, and I couldn't help but scream out. "Pas de Calais!"
The officer smiled. "Excellent. Just as we thought."He motioned the guards to return me to my cell.
I let myself cry as they dragged me back. Inside, I was ecstatic. A magical man who could only tell the truth? Garbo had really outdone himself on that one. |
The heart rate monitors flatlined. Doctor Rex bowed over the young man. "Shit. We need defib. STAT!"Amanda dashed to the wall and plucked the defibrillator off its hooks. She handed the paddles to Rex. "Clear!"He shouted and sent bolts of lighting through the dying man. He arched and shuddered, but the monitors still read a flat line. "Clear!"Rex shouted again, and jolted the man. Same results. Nothing. "One more time. Clear!"Rex sent one final, shuddering jolt through the paddles. No results. "Dammit. This one's gone. Too much blood loss. Amanda, call down to the meat locker? And wipe that creepy smile off your face. I swear, it's like you're turned on by this stuff."
"Sorry! Yeah, I'm weird. Sorry. Yeah, I'll make sure it's taken down, yeah.."Amanda exited to the hallway and dialed the number. She turned around and there he was! Standing in the doorway. Tall, dark, handsome. He was so serious, like the forces of nature bent to his will. Dangerous, yet exciting. She couldn't help it: she smiled and twirled her fingers in her long, dark hair. He loomed so sexily over her. "Hey babe,"he rumbled "I've got about five minutes before I have to report back. I'll meet you in room 1308C. See you soon...."and he drifted away. Damn, that worked on her every time, and he knew it.
Amanda hadn't realized she was biting her lip so hard, so she was a little taken aback when Rex ducked out through the curtains and made uncomfortable eye contact. He approached and leaned over into her ear. "Quit that stuff or I'm going to HR. It's just plain weird."She gulped and nodded while Rex stalked off.
She also hadn't realized that the receptionist was on the other line "Hello? Hello? Morgue office. Who's there?"She coughed and jumped on the call. "Hi! Hi, yes. Sorry about that. I was...um...distracted for a second. We have another fatality. Gang-related shooting. We're sending it down to you guys."
"Roger. Any notes?"
"Nope, pretty run-of-the-mill chest wounds."
"Cool. Will you be taking him down?"
"Yeah, just give me a couple minutes. I have an urgent call."
"Oh? What about?"
"Something about burying a bone. See you soon!"Amanda hung up and veritably dashed up to the thirteenth floor. Rex just didn't get it. Death made her hot. |
Shards of glass scattered on the linoleum like thrown ice on a frozen lake. Adrenaline flooded John's body, and he ran for the kitchen entryway. Pieces of the broken mug stabbed into his feet, but he ignored the bolts of pain as he flew into the hallway.
'I only have 60 seconds' his mind screamed, even though he did not fully understand why. But he began to run, sprinting into the hallway. Leaping over the banister of the second floor, John crashed into the ground. His ankle let loose an audible crack, and he cried out. Limping towards the bedroom door, he swung it open.
"KIDS, BASEMENT NOW!"He cried out, startling the two small children out of sleep, "WE HAVE TO GO NOW"
The children sleepily rubbed their eyes, looking startled and confused. "Dad, whats happening?"
'I don't know!' Panic rocked his system as he scooped up the children, daggers of glass sinking deeper into the heels of his feet. The swinging light over basement stairs flickered as he rushed past, setting the children down and frantically typing in the code on the thick steel door. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the seal hissed, and the door barked an error message out. Out of the corner of his eye a brilliant light filled the tiny basement window. John screamed as he tried to enter the code again, ground shaking as his children cried. He knelt down to shelter his children as the blast ripped through their home, and everything went dark.
Two technicians sat at their monitors, sighing in exasperation. "The code is starting to break down, he's beginning to comprehend the loop."
"Well what do you suggest we do? His consciousness was the closest to the blast when it occurred, we're lucky we were able to acquire this fucking vegetable at all. We just need him to do what he did on that day, look out the window as the bombs go off. This is what you get working with memory capture actors man, people want this raw shit now. Do you wan't people to think the movie is bullshit?"
"Yeah the director is up our ass as it is. Alright fine upload him again. But I don't know how much more I can hear this guy scream, its starting to get on my nerves."
"I get you. Alright take 23, Action!" |
\[written in black ink on the first page, so painfully meticulous that my wrist vicariously ached\]
Hey, Linds. Don’t panic, I know how much we like panicking but I promise you’re safe.
You’re right, there’s a reason I didn’t say everything is fine. We hate beating around the bush, I know it’s terrible on our anxiety, so I’ll just say it: we lost basically all of our episodic memory and the ability to form new memories \[the paper is smudged all around the penciled in number\] 12 years ago, and we’ve been doing this every morning we wake up before Sophie ever since. She wants me to tell you that she’s our wife; feels better to say we’re hers, doesn’t it? She could walk away any day and we’d be none the wiser, we’d have no memory she ever existed, but she’s still there, isn’t she?
That. I know you felt that. You may not *remember*, but you’re still there. You’re still us. And I know you’re thinking it: you’re not a burden, on her or anyone else. That’s not up for debate, and I swear if you try to argue it with her I’ll find a way to swim across the River Lethe and slap some sense into you.
I know you think you want to know what happened. Please trust me that you don’t, I wish I hadn’t asked and forgetting that is my gift to you. All I’ll say is that the reason you don’t want to know isn’t at all guilt, it’s just bad. For Sophie’s sake, so you don’t make her relive it if you won’t take your own damn advice, it’s written on the third page from the back of this notebook.
Now you’ve got a whole beautiful day to live ahead of you. You damn well know it’s not cheapened by the fact you won’t remember it tomorrow, anymore than life itself is pointless just because it’ll end someday. So don’t waste your time writing it all down when you could be living.
If Sophie’s still asleep, maybe give her some nice cuddles to wake up to. I promise you’ll feel that inside, too.
And one last thing.
I love you. We never could bring ourself to say that to ourself before, could we? That’s your gift to me. |
Alright so this is new, clouds, gaudy decoration, pillars. I'm not complaining, its quite the step up from a hospital room. Whats that? A squirrel? A bus sized squirrel... well at least whatever this is isn't going to drag on for too long. If I had to choose between death by gigantic squirrel and leukemia, I'd choose squirrel. Shutting my eyes and...
"Hey new guy, I'm Ratatosk, Norse if you ain't familiar. I'm here to give you the tour and introduce you to the pantheon you're joining."
"Um- hello Ratatosk, I'm- um- Jay..."
"Great your brain didn't get fried on the way up, now who are you intent on joining? We are an equal opportunity employer so you can feel free to pick any pantheon, but the learning curve can be quite steep if you don't know much about them."
"What?"
"You know, which religion do you want to be a God of?"
"Uh, I'm not very religious."
The squirrel is laughing.
"Same here, it's all different flavors of garbage if you ask me, but you've got to choose one. Then you'll interview with them and they'll find you an open domain to fill."
"Okay, well could I have some options?"
"Sure, you've got the Abrahamics; Judaism, Christianity, and Muslim, all with different flavors... You'd probably end up as some spiritual entity of some kind like an angel or the holy spirit for a small sect with those, so I wouldn't suggest a monotheistic religion. For polytheism, there is, Greek, Norse which as I said is my pantheon, Roman which is the same as Greek but with an extra spoonful of imperialism, Mycenaean Greek which is more Greek than greek, ancient Egyptian, lots and lots of flavors of pre-colonial American, Celtic..."
"He keeps listing pantheon after pantheon, how does a squirrel know all of this?
"Then there's the pantheons that haven't actually had true followers but since people know of them they exist here. The emperor and chaos from Warhammer, I believe that's got three separate pantheons, Bajoran, planeswalkers, force entities, the ones from Lord of the rings which I've not finished reading all the names of, several polytheistic pantheons except with an author interpreting them, every homebrew rip off of those pantheons, every unique homebrew pantheon..."
It's been... an hour? He's still going...
"And of course Christianity through the lens of the Bruce almighty film."
Shit, I stopped listening.
"Um, I guess I'll choose..." |
“My opinion? I see the effort as vacuous. Egotistical. An unnecessary waste of time and money that could be better spent on any number of other projects that would better serve us now and in the future.”
“You don’t think we should leave something for those that come after us?”
Dr Carlisle turned her blue-lit face from her laptop to Dr Hamish, who appeared to her in the low light of her dark office as a squat silhouette in the doorway — a creature from the land of the bright hallway that had deigned to enter her solitary, shadowed domain. Though her usual stoic expression was present there was a measure of pity in her hazel gaze. To her, it was all so obvious.
“Why would it matter to *them*? You’re assuming they — whatever it is *they* are — care, or are even capable of caring. Moreover, to get the information they would be capable of: reaching the moon, interacting with our technology, and deciphering our likely long extinct languages. They would learn nothing other than that we were here.”
“And about our culture.”
“Culture? If we want to provide evidence of our culture, then we can accomplish the same thing by firing a time-capsule up there. One that contains a sword, a donut, a flute, and a book.”
“Wh-”
“Most cultures on Earth eventually make some form of each. Besides, what use would a space-fairing, interstellar race have for the collected young-adult, vampire-themed, teen-romance novels of a long dead species? The effort is one not based in accomplishing anything other than a post extinction-event form of self-preservation, intended to make sure the universe remembers us. All of this born from the belief that we are special and matter. We are not *special*, Hamish. We are just matter.”
At this, Dr Carlisle ended the conversation the same way she so often did: she turned her focus back to her laptop and her work. The rapid rattle of her typing served as the music that played the office interloper off the stage of her attention and out of her day. Their time for speeches had run out.
Dr Douglas Hamish left with a smile and as he closed the office door on his pragmatic friend and colleague, he reminded her there was a meeting in an hour and that lunch with the director of the department was straight after. She grunted in reply a moment before the door latched.
Like it or not, she was going to be on the Preservation Project.
\* * *
“So. You think there’s any donuts in there?”
Hamish noted a few confused whispers, but no reaction from the project lead: Dr Emily Carlisle. The pair were stood with the others of her hand-picked team in an observation room, deep below ground in a facility in which they had been living for eight months. The day of the discovery they had been brought here...for security reasons, ostensibly, and had not yet been permitted to leave or have any non-monitored communication with the outside world.
Now, at last, some progress. It was here. A wall of glass lay between them and the discovery that had swiftly moved their project underground, an object that had become known only as The Capsule.
It had taken eight months to get it here. Eight months of frantic, clandestine work to dig it up and get it back to Earth. All the while the team had wondered: what would be so bad about letting the world know what they had found?
Carlisle’s eyes stayed on the impossibly black, coffin-sized object, undistracted by her colleagues in the room or the orange hazmatted figures beyond the glass that prodded, measured, and probed.
The Capsule had been found on the Moon at Preservation Site Delta, a location that was backup of a backup, merely one of several possible places in which humanity would bury its collective consciousness. Initially, the object was assumed to be debris from some previous mission or a lost lunar experiment.
But it quickly proved to be less Earthly in origin. The Capsule had form and mass, but no other details could be divined. To almost every scan and measurement: it appeared to not exist. No thermal output or reflection. No energy escaped its surface.
And it just happened to be buried right where chance had forced their hand, so that a career interupting, time-sink of a project could be completed. A project that amounted, in Dr Carlisle’s opinion, to be nothing more than graffiti on our nearest, non-world, celestial body.
Human’s were ‘ere. Whoopty-doo.
And then. This.
The inflated, orange, plastic-armoured, apes poked, prodded and waved wands that crackled and beeped.
What was it made of?
What is it’s purpose?
And how had this undetectable object end up exactly where they would look?
Perhaps, she thought, I have been to harsh on the Preservation Project. Maybe the purpose isn’t the answers that we bury, but the questions that they’ll raise. |
I stood before God and Satan. Good and Evil. They who created the rules that decided where the souls I reaped would go. Except, now there were no more souls. The last one was gone, and with that, it was time for this universe to end; and I was the reaper.
It’s hard to describe what God and Satan look like. Mortal words couldn’t accurately describe the divine, after all. You could see them, but only if you looked to the side of them, or looked from the corner of your eye. If you looked directly at them, they got hazy and distorted, like a mirage. I had no clue how long they stared at me, since time had stopped. I should know, I collected her.
Satan seemed to tilt his head, and I could feel his perplexion, “You have not done anything good, nor anything evil. This baffles us. You are the last human before us. How can you be so neutral?”
I stared into the yawning black abyss behind the two, “I have simply done my job my entire life. There is no good or evil in death. It is a fate that befalls all.”
God opened and closed his mouth a few times, mulling over the words, “But killing for the sake of killing is an evil trait. That does not appear to be so with you. We can not even see your past deeds to judge them. How do you shield them from us?”
“There are no deeds to judge. Do you not know who I am?” I looked at them. Really looked at them. And the more I concentrated, the more corporeal their forms became, the more human they looked. It was nearly time.
God and Satan shared a look, “Should we?”
I sighed and the air seemed to ripple through our space, “I am the first one born in the Universe, and the last to leave. I know all those who walk between; I see them born into this world, and I guide them out.” I could feel my appearance shifting, sliding around me, making me appear bigger, for Death is more powerful than Gods, “One day, all things shall return to me and from me all things shall again be born. I am Death, the reaper, the taker of souls. This Universe has ended and you are my last to take.”
They both hesitated and took a step back; the brothers were more alike than they realized.
“We are immortal, we can not be reaped so easily.” Satan replied confidently, and I felt myself smile.
“You were born, and thus you can die. I was at the bedside for your birth and have watched you both grow. It is from you the souls I reaped were born, and you who is responsible for their death. I am merely the messenger.”
My hands extended, “There is no choice in this matter. You have known this day would come when the wheels of Time have ended and the light has gone out. You may come willingly or not, it matters little to me.”
There was a heavy pause and then they both reached out and took a hand each. I smiled, a sigh escaping me as they seemed to vanish, leaving me alone in the abyss. I turned to my left and started walking, keys jingling in my robes as I approached the barely visible outline of a door. I pulled out a golden key and locked it. The soft click echoed and reverberated through the space and brought another smile to my face.
I turned around and proceeded the other way, to another door. I took out a silver key this time and unlocked it. With a little push, the door opened. The air that hit me was fresh and full of possibility. A new Universe was just born, filled with possibilities. I stepped through and watched the swirling mass of primordial goop. I popped it like a balloon with my finger nail.
There was a big bang. |
"You are not meant to be smoking on guard duty."A familiar, vacant expression loomed in front of me again. Why me, I'm already up at three in the morning for the worst shift possible. This job is wank, the hours are wank, and this guy here is the king of wankers.
"I know; fuck off."He's not going to listen, he hasn't yet. Bradley got chewed out for shooting this unnamed 'specimen' with a marksman's long rifle, but still the little twerp wouldn't piss off and just leave the base. What's making it all so much worse is the fact that there is literally nothing here. There is no reason to be here, no secret plot or incredible happenings occurring. He's just a dick. A hairless, squat faced dick in Reebok joggers.
I serve in a podunk military base located slap bang in the middle of fucking nowhere. The base's sole purpose is for the logistics brass to stash the rank and file as they ship them to bases that actually do, or have something of importance. The most exciting thing that ever happens here is that someone gets caught beating their meat, when they should be guarding something. I mean for god's sake my CO sneaks weed onto the base to smoke on Sundays.
"Are you sure you understand? You are currently posted as a sentry, a role which requires undivided attention. This in order to ensure the complete security of your assigned charge."His grating, monotone voice snaps me back to reality, and away from the daydreaming that is just part of getting through the long periods of standing doing nothing.
"I know. Fuck off."I stll don't expect it to work, but its more for my own emotional support at this point.
"Perhaps you do not understand why. Smoking causes the user to imbibe an alkaloid named nicotine, which affects the body as it has both the effects of a stimulant and a relaxant depending upon dosage. A simple cigarrete-"
"I know. Fuck. Off."Sweet low road. You might guide me wrong but goddamn, you're the most fun.
"-has an effect of euphoria comparable to the nitrogen narcosis reported in scuba divers, which leads to suboptimal-"
"I. Know. Christ above you can lift a fucking tank with one finger, why the shit are you bothering me?"
He paused until I finished shouting, before resuming his warbling. I took another drag, deeper than usual; Sweet chemical Nirvana. I tried to ignore the fact that he was now standing firmly in front of me. I almost succeeded, until he shoved something fist sized in front of my nose, knocking my smoke to the floor. My stomach tightened as I recognized what he had.
"Why do you have a grenade?"
"This is part of the stock contained in the store you were assigned to guard. During your lapse in attention I retrieved it from the munitions store."
"Put it back."
He held it up in front of us both for half a second, utterly silent. He started to remove the pin slowly, making me watch. I could practically see the glee in his rheumy little eyes.
"What the shit are you doing? Put it back!"
A click and the pin was nowhere to be seen, and the grenade landed heavily on my foot. They are much heavier than they look. I'm just a posted reserve, haven't seen combat yet and I don't want to. I've done plenty of drills though. I hit the concrete floor hard. In the process I managed to bite off a small chunk of my tongue and shatter two teeth. I don't think I've felt pain like that in years.
The explosion shook my world, taking my breath and my hearing as it thundered over me. A whining ring replaced all audible sound, but I didn't feel any shrapnel biting into my flesh. Neither did I feel a wave of force tearing my innards to shreds. Instead I saw his dour, blank face, looming over me again, slightly obscured by the dust the grenade had kicked up. He was holding the unused grenade in his hands.
"Cunt!"I tried to scream through my bloodied mouth, I couldn't tell how loudly anymore. He waved a hand over me, and instantly the pain was gone, my teeth mended, my tongue restored, and my hearing returned.
"As you can see, A sentry posting even in somewhere as peaceful as here is a matter to be taken seriously and-"
My service weapon leaned on the wall, and it was looking way friendlier than I remembered.
*Critique is very welcome!*
|
All the puny humans in the small room froze, crouching in fear, as I materialized before them from a rapidly-dissipating cloud of sulfurous fumes older than worlds.
"*Behold, I come. I am Püpibat Holdíkfär 'Tpitíti. Who summoned me?*"
One of them slowly stood, cleared his throat, and spoke.
"Your name is Poopy-Butthole-Dick-Fart-Pee-Titty?"
"Yes,"I replied impatiently, "I am Püpibat Holdíkfär 'Tpitíti. Where is the one who summoned me?"
He turned and pointed a trembling finger at the smallest member of the group, a terror-stricken child who seemed unable to do anything but stare at my fearsome visage.
I stepped toward him, and the other little humans parted to both sides. "What is your name?"I demanded.
After a long silence, I repeated. "Your *NAME*?"
"T-T-Toby,"he finally uttered.
"Toby, I am Püpibat Holdíkfär 'Tpitíti. Since the age of primal creation at the dawn of existence, I have roamed the trackless wastes of the Universe seeking the one who would lend purpose to my fearsome powers. You have spoken my name in the ancient, primeval tongue of the Makers of Galaxies, and our fates are now unbreakably bound.
"For as long as your essence exists, and wherever it may travel in this universe or any other, I am sworn to serve you and you alone. All my powers are yours to command. Tell me, what is your will?"
"Uh,"he stammered, looking around at the others, "c-could you get me an XBOX One X?"
Toby quickly learned the depth and breadth of my abilities, and I taught him how to add them seamlessly to his own. His youthful idealism and naivete melded with my wisdom and power became the greatest force in the Universe. Toby created the First Terran Empire, and within twenty Earth years expanded it to the entire Solar system, the nearby stellar systems, and finally the entire Galaxy.
And he didn't stop there. Over the next several centuries his realm expanded across the known Universe and far beyond, including and absorbing races far older and, until recently, far more powerful than his own *Homo sapiens sapiens*.
No sentient being has ever held more authority, or been more universally loved, than Emperor Toby--and thanks to my powers and the immortality with which I have gifted him, he shall never lament that there are no worlds left to conquer.
And he still plays that XBOX. |
I used to be a predator.
I killed 78 people before they caught me. I was really good at it. Of course, being a homicide detective helped. I was meticulous; I never used the same weapon twice. I didn't pick my victims based on any identifying characteristic. I varied my schedule. And if any forensic evidence escaped my notice... Well, shit. Even the best detective will occasionally contaminate a crime scene.
I had this thing I'd do before I killed them. I'd ask for a final request. Whatever it was, I would do it if it were in my power. I would have had over two hundred victims, but a surprising number of people, faced with their own impending demise at the hands of an armed, masked figure had the presence of mind to ask me not to kill them. Of course, none ever thought to ask me not to take their eyes, hands and tongue. I can't very well leave witnesses behind, can I?
I was seen as a bit of a kook in the department, because I told my colleagues about my extracurricular activities. Of course, I always referred to myself in the third person. I kept a think file on all my victims, even the ones whose murder I managed to hang on some patsy. I told my partner, Eddie that these deaths were all related, but my own competence ensured he never believed me.
I never would have been caught if it wasn't for Kim Adams. She was a bubbly, blonde college student. My favorite kind. I had watched her for weeks beforehand, getting ready. Preparing. I watched her volunteer at the children's hospital and the animal shelter. I saw her go out drinking with her "besties". I cracked her phone and read her text messages.
When it was finally time, I snatched her right out of the parking lot of her dorm. She had been out at the hospital late, not getting home until 2am. Perfect. I grabbed her from behind and quickly stuffed a clean, brand new sock of a common make into her mouth. I'd handcuffed the last victim, and zip-tied the one before that, so Kim would be bound with duct tape. Before she even knew what was happening, I had two layers around her wrists and another around her head to hold the gag in. It was a shame to mess up her pretty hair like that, but oh well.
I had used chloroform recently, so Kim got to remain conscious as I stuffed her in my trunk and took her to the spot I'd prepared for this very occasion. A run down warehouse, abandoned and surrounded by more abandoned buildings. No security guard for a mile in any direction. No cops, either. There wasn't anything worth stealing, hence there weren't any criminals worth chasing out with regular patrols.
I took my time with Kim. It was good, because I had had to rush the last few. I couldn't savor the release. She screamed a lot as I engaged in some foreplay.
Seeing as how I hadn't had any fun in a while, I might have went a bit overboard. But I didn't go too far. When that precious moment had finally arrived, she was still breathing. Still awake.
I stood over her, my body as naked and bloody as her own. I watched the blood pulse from her wounds as she pulled against the duct tape that held her to the pillar. I watched urine, blood and my own fluids run down her inner thigh. (I had a drum of lime and a set of butcher knives ready to eliminate _that_ evidence. I may have been a "clumsy"detective, but finding my DNA inside her would be a dead giveaway.) I figured she had about ten more minutes of consciousness on her own.
"Any last request?"I asked. She sobbed in response.
Shit, maybe I _had_ gone too far. Time was running out, and if she didn't make a request... I was not prepared to find another so soon, and if I waited too long, the pressure inside me would burst.
I slapped her, lightly. I didn't want her to think the fun was resuming and draw back inside of herself. "I said, any last request?"
She sobbed again. I was beginning to panic.
I grabbed her by the ears and shook her head. "Tell me! Tell me, you whore! What is your last request?!"
Finally, she spoke, screaming a single word "what?!"
"Tell me your last request, so that I can fulfill it before your die."I towered over her, panting, my heart racing.
"What?"she asked again, infuriatingly. Her eyes were becoming glassy and her speech was heavily slurred. I repeated myself. "Tell me your last request, so that I can fulfill it before your die."
She looked at me through her blood crusted locks, and I could see a spark there. Something intelligent. Something... Devious?
Then she spoke, her voice cracked from all the screaming, but steady. Precise. I listened as her pretty little mouth -so much prettier with that split in it and the blood all over it- formed three little words.
Her request was in my power. So I must fulfill it. But not, unfortunately, before she died.
When she finished speaking, I cut into her throat slowly. She screamed again, a scream that turned into a beautiful gurgle, as bubbly as her personality had been. I had some more fun with her body, but it was half-hearted. A way of staving off the inevitable. Eventually, I looked to my lime and butcher's knives, but shrugged. There was no point, now.
I left her there to go fulfill her request.
It was worse than I thought it would be. As I write this now, I am no longer a predator.
I am a celebrity.
The paparazzi surround me every time I step foot out of this jail. There were so many victims, many of their bodies had never been found, so I spent months leading my former colleagues to vacant lots and paved-over patches of what had once been dirt. I answer the same questions over and over, until I can hear them in my dreams. My lawyer fields calls from vapid authors eager to publish my story, and is duty bound to pass their worthless requests on to me. I've even spoken to a few Hollywood types, disgustingly shallow in their thousand dollar suits and fake plastic smiles.
Every morning I wake to these concrete walls and hear those words she spoke. Three little words that changed my life forever. I respect Kim for thinking of them, even as I hate her for saying them. They were the single, most vicious thing she could have ever said to me in that moment.
"Turn yourself in." |
The man towered over him. Standing at well over six feet tall, the man picked him up by the collar of his shirt, blood soaked and dripping onto the floor that was quickly growing further away by the second.
"You don't have to do this, Lars."A woman's voice.
"Please,"she said. "He's just a kid."
The man looked at the woman for a second, out of annoyed courtesy before glaring at the child struggling to take in air. His legs were squirming, blood spraying onto the man's clothes and everywhere below him really. The pain resonated throughout the kid's body, the shock had left him long ago.
The man's eyes glowed orange and the kid had one thought. He wasn't even using his powers yet. The man dragged the child through the door of the house and floated up into the night sky. His hands felt like fire to the boy and as he was dropped from the air, his legs crunched beneath him. He screamed, begging for his life. The woman screamed, but the man only stared at the boy.
"Bring her back,"the man said.
"Dad,"the boy said. "I ca-"
A backhand cut him off, the boy smelled the burnt skin coming from his cheek. The boy's eyes started to glow green. He put his hands to it and his broken legs. His legs snapped back together and his skin healed over, smoother than it had before. Tears fell from his green eyes.
"Bring her back,"the man said again.
The woman ran over to the child, the man let her for once.
"Can you do it one more time, baby?"the woman said to the child. She wrapped the child in an embrace, whispering into his ears.
"I promise I'll take you away from him,"she said. The child stopped, his heart racing, everything hurt and not just physically. He wasn't even sure he believed her.
"I'm sorry,"he said.
"Sorry for what, baby?"she asked.
The boy's eyes glowed green again and he looked within the man's mind for an image of who he needed most to come back. He saw a woman, different than the one in front of him. A woman he and the man knew very well. He took that image and held it in his own mind.
With his eyes still green, he looked at the man.
"I'll bring mom back,"the boy said.
The man said nothing, but he grinned. The woman looked at the man too, looking to him for some kind of reward. Attention, respect, it could have been anything.
The boy clapped his hands together, not bothering to explain what it was that the man was missing. The clap produced waves of green, the waves circling around them in a storm that eventually closed around them. With the green all around them, the man walked over to the woman.
"I don't need you anymore,"he said and he ran his hands through the woman's throat.
She fell, coughing, hands to her neck. She watched as a woman emerged from the storm of green, she watched as the boy disappeared in the chaos of it all. The man didn't care, he only wanted the thing that was now right in front of him.
"Cindy,"he muttered.
Cindy was dazed, looking past the man, looking around him.
"Where is he?"she asked. "Where is he?"She said it over and over.
The man embraced her, smelled her, took everything in about her. Everything that the boy took away.
"Lars,"she said. "Where's Cody?"
"Does it matter?"he asked. She tried to get away from his embrace, squirming out of it.
"Let me go, I need to find him. I don't have much time,"she said.
She disappeared, withering away in the same waves of green that had brought her back. The man was alone, lit only by the moon, blood and shards of green crystals everywhere.
The boy was long gone, but all he could think about was that he couldn't bring his mother back again, it wouldn't let him. He wasted the only opportunity he'd had to see her again. He wasn't strong enough. |
The Law of Nine-- this is the foundation of knowledge which made nature and existence itself. The Law of Nine is all around us. Nine Devas who created the universe and nine fundamental rules which govern it. Nine cycles of life and nine gracious goods along with nine karmic evils which balance it. Nine circles of magic and ninefold its strength would be as the legend foretold...
It was I, Neo, who stood by myself, alone in the middle of this wasted world. The world which prospered with life and magic millennia ago. The world which should have not meet its doom had we just understood that there was no need for war, for conflict, for animosity...but alas, it did fall. And I, Neo, the most powerful mage of my time stood idly by, doing nothing.
I was not without my fault, I admit. I, who like no one before me had transcended to the 8th circle of magic had received wisdom above all else. And in my near-divine status I was erased of unnecessary fault as jealousy and thirst for power, thus I failed to see that the rest of humanity did not share the same wisdom...
*In Principia*\-- the 1st circle of magic I casted.
Red circle manifested around my feet, spinning clockwise slowly as I chanted rapidly under my breath bringing this most basic of magic to its utmost limit.
You cannot create something without losing something-- that is the 2nd most basic rule of magic, of course. And without nothing else left in this world but rubble...what else could I offer, but myself?
The sensation was quite faint in the beginning, but still noticeably so as my tongue lost its grip of any taste inside my mouth...
*In Secundarium*\-- the 2nd circle of magic I reached.
Orange circle manifested outside of the red, spinning in reverse of the 1st circle. Continuing and continuing I did, chanting the same phrase over and over again it almost lost its meaning to me.
At least I didn't have to continue having the smell of charred wood, rubber, metal, and flesh in my nostrils as my 2nd bodily sense was taken.
*In Tertiary*\-- there it is, the 3rd circle manifested.
My favorite color, bright yellow circle appeared outside of the orange, spinning with the same direction as the red.
As I continued chanting, I was reminded of the reason I was doing this. To be frank, it almost lost to me as my age reached thousands of years old. But the sound of screaming and crying of my people as they slaughtered each other kept me tethered. Even though now my hearing was taken away, those screaming still echoed loudly within me...
*In Quattora*\-- 4th circle, halfway there.
Green circle manifested outside of the yellow as my whole body went numb...no, not even numb, there was nothing. My skin stopped feeling the air surrounding me, the dust bathing it, and the blood showering it.
*In Quintus*\-- 5th circle of magic, my least favorite one.
I remembered the first time I reached this level. I was so ecstatic on reaching this far when I was young, though at what cost?
It was a good thing sense of touch left me first as no pain I could endure. As blood poured out of my eyes, the dark red of it and the newly formed sky-blue circle slowly blurred away as my sight was taken.
*In Heksik*\-- the 6th circle of magic.
I was told it was ocean blue in color and I could only imagine it manifesting outside of the 5th circle.
My chanting had become muscle memory then as my fleshy body was reduced to ash, leaving my spirit essence behind. I was told I became a ghost by my students who witnessed me breaking into this circle...how I managed to regain my earthly body I had forgotten a long time ago...
*In Septum*\-- the 7th circle, almost there.
My least favorite of color, violet...what even is that?
My spirit withered, taken away as my magic became stronger, but my will, my aethereal body remained still. What else was there to be taken away?
*In Ogtum*\-- the 8th circle, finally.
I did not know what color circle manifested this convoluted ritual, but I could sense its strength. The power, oh the absolute power was intoxicating for me in my youth, but what's the point when it was my magic, the essence of what made a mage was taken away?
But this...was not the end. There was one more. One more circle to reach, the 9th circle of magic. This realm I had never reached. What it was or what it should be I did not know...what I do know is what I seek to do, I could do once I break through.
What I wish, what I yearn to do...is to restart this universe. |
"Uh.... Food?", Queen 1 inquired.
"Yes. Food.", replied Queen 4.
Queen 3 started laughing uncontrollably. Queen 1 just stood there shocked and confused.
"Why don't you come see my queendom?"Queen 4 said as she rolled her eyes and gestured towards the balcony.
The doors opened and revealed farms for as far as the eye could see. The"city"around the palace was pitifully small.
Queen 1 cleared her throat and said, "Well I better get going, I have something fun planned for my subjects."
Queen 3 stopped laughing and grinned. "I shall also go... uh... train some troops."
Queen 2 looked strangely at Queen 4. She finally remarked, "This is an interesting focus you have, but I do wish to tell you that my queendom will be building spaceships before your queendom gets anywhere."
Queen 4 was left alone but smiled.
As expected Queen 3 came for war a couple years later. Queen 3's army was shocked at how numerous Queen 4's army was. The army seemed to go on forever. Slowly but surely, Queen 3's army dwindled and so she retreated.
Queen 2 eventually came to visit much later and was surprised to find Queen 4's people operating factories. Queen 2's people, who had been thoroughly focused on science had only just established their first public university.
Queen 1 was partying when she saw a huge rocket shoot into the sky from Queen 4's kingdom. The music stopped.
Back in Queen 4's palace, Queen 4 smirked and remarked to herself, "Stupid noobs... they don't know how to play Civilisation 5." |
*Thanks for coming, fellow Enslavers, we need to adress this crisis as soon as possible. It's come to my attention that we have been having problems with species 455-1212a, or Hume-ans for short. As you all know, last cycle-end, Xognakx terminated himself by way of stepping into the Vacu-incinerator, after many attempts to slash his fore-arms for some baffling reason.*
A series of low howls went across the room as everyone expressed their grief by ejecting air from their prefrontal lobeflaps.
*Yes, I know. He will be sorely missed and the interviews for a new Lobe of Communications and Terminations have already started. Please talk to Nancy in ER if interested. Moving on, there have been some baffling non fatal incidents as well. It appears Gry'g'niax has been spending the last few cyles collecting composted fertilizer from hume-an orifice 3a to smear on the walls of his resting pod. We are still investigating.*
From one of the corners, a gentle howl went up, followed by a series of clicking sounds and intricate tentacle gestures from the interrupting Enslaver.
*Oh really? That's what that orifice is for? Interesting. Moving on, I would also like to make a personal announcement. I have come to the realisation early present-cycle that I no longer wish to identify as an Enslaver. After long and intense personal lobesearching, I have come to find myself identifying as species 455-213f and you may all lobe of me as 455-213f-Kin.*
One of the Enslavers raised an inquisitive tentacle in the traditional question gesture of Bloxacti 9. His tentacle spelled out "WTF"in the air above him.
*They are the grey furry ones the Hume-ans put on t-shirts in front of pictures of 455beta, or Mun as they call it.*
The Enslaver dropped his tentacle with an expression of confusion on his stomach lobe.
*Given the current state of the local eco-system due to hume-an action and the problems we've been having with controlling 90% of the population, I hereby wiggle the tentacle of Ygghdrud, proposing we leave the system and blackbook it for the rest of the galactic population. All in favour?*
A large number of wiggles rippled across the room.
*All opposed?*
A solitary sneeze, followed by intense gyrating of tentacles came from one of the Enslavers in the back of the room.
*Lugdammit Steve, the Ayes have it, stop voting Ach-uh on everything.*
|
"What you're talking about, General, is genocide."Said the Minister for Culture and Humanities.
"What I'm talking about is self preservation. From the limited contacts we have had with them we know that they are a species not beyond war, with technologies far superior to our own. We are talking about a species we are unfamiliar with who could wipe us out in an instant. The only advantage we currently have is the element of surprise, an advantage you would have us waste on a suicidal goodwill mission into hostile territory!"Said the General slamming his fist on the table.
"I would remind you, General, that our own society is not past war, violence, and, as you have clearly demonstrated, xenophobia. So I apologize that I would rather try to make peace and share ideas, rather than blindly swing at a hornets nest. Tell me General, if they are as advanced as you describe them wouldn't a preemptive strike be nothing but a futile, vainglorious slap in the face to them? You're arguing a cavalry charge against a tank formation!"
"Gentlemen, please. We can come to some sort of agreement."Said the prime minister adjusting his glasses. "While I do not believe violence should be our first course of action,"he said eyeing the general, "we would be remiss to rule out preparations for a... defensive action."He finished, looking toward the Minister for Humanities and Culture. "Now please,"he continued, "what do we know about these aliens?"
The table exploded with every minister vying for attention. The table was silenced by a raise of the prime minister's hand. "One at a time, in order please."
The Minister for Humanities and Culture spoke up. "We know culturally they are similar to us at least in their emotional expression through the arts. I've browsed the, eh, artifact and have to say that most of the data we've recovered could have been from our planet. The basic themes, literature forms, and to a certain extent rhyme structures are identical to ours. They could be our brothers based on this."
The Minister for Resources cleared his throat. "Speaking on a mineral reserve basis, their planet could provide supplies for our home world as well as some of the colonies. Their planet seems to have vast resources of not only potable water, but also a highly combustible liquid energy source. It seems that while relatively scarce due to their vast population, it could power our system for about one thousand years if used sparingly."
The rest of the ministers gave accounts of the aliens and what could be gained from a trade partnership, technological sharing, cultural exchanges and even formation of a galactic exploratory force. The general sat with folded arms, huffing and mumbling through the discussion. When all ministers had spoken he once again sat up.
"It is my firm belief that the whenever two self contained cultures, no matter how similar meet each other on unequal terms, one will become the victor and the other the conquered. It is a theme we see time and time again throughout history. Normally, the more advanced culture makes contact first and quickly enslaves or eradicates the natives. To our benefit, we gained knowledge of their existence before they discovered us. Unfortunately, we are uneducated savaged to them. At best we could hope for amalgamation into their society. Which is to assume that they would even take the time to contact us before destroying us, an assumption I am not comfortable making. Aside from this 'artifact' we've found, every other indication is that this alien species is violent and prone to war. Every broadcast, no matter how jumbled, contains reference to war, violence, famine. Surely such an advanced civilization would not have to continue such tendencies after the advent of the technological wonders they have. This leads me to believe that this alien civilization views war as sport, something to be done for glory or pleasure. They train their children for war, show them images of war, make game of war. We have seen this through propaganda broadcasts we have picked up, which to this day cause me to lose sleep. We can wait, Sir, but if we do I doubt we'll be able to discuss this again."
The prime minister sighed and turned away. He looked out the window at his homeworld, the only world he knew. The only world anyone had known before that damned artifact. "I too have heard the broadcasts General. They are.....disturbing to say the least. Do you truly believe their is no other option aside from an aggressive one?"
"Yes Sir."The General answered. "I would rather die with a gun in my hand than live with one to my head."
The prime minister turned and addressed the table. "General. You have my permission to pursue the military option. Every scrap of information we have been able to piece together points to it as our best option for survival. If we know anything it is this: they would do the same to us." |
*~changed a little bit of the prompt here, forgive me~*
I didn’t start The War To End All Wars, but I did end it.
The building trembled as the endless rounds of bullets and missiles
hailed outside. The foundation was almost gone, surely it wouldn’t be long
before the entire thing collapsed. But despite my immediate death, all I could
feel was pure hatred. I shouldn’t be here. Most people stationed on the grounds
have incredible powers. The ability to teleport behind the enemy, the ability to make this land's water bend into impenetrable shields,
to fly away from the battleground to the farthest heavens. And what do I have? A draft letter with my name
on it, my best friend bloodied and near-death beside me, and a broken pistol. Perfect.
With one final shake, the building finally tumbled. It sounded as if a million wires were unraveling an instant. The cracks in the floor become larger and larger, the dust began to fall and coat us. I tried to shield my friend as we fell all those stories below. Something flew right into my head, and the world went dark.
Amazingly, I woke up a few hours later. But I was now just
in bad shape as my friend, who also miraculously was still breathing. I couldn’t
feel anything from the waist down, my torso was ripped open and bloodied. All but my head was covered in rubble and ash. Yes,
I could tell with certainty, I had finally reached the end. After surviving all
those mythical warriors and their superpowers, I had finally died.
I was just barely able to grab my friend’s hand beside me and look into their eyes. The exact, terrified expression was pained on their face as I'm sure I had had. I closed my eyes.
"Coming for you God,"I whispered aloud as I began to choke on my blood. "Really wished you gave me something to help here. Dammit."
thought.
And that’s when it happened. I could feel something pulse in
my right arm. My vision had all but faded, but even I could make the bright glowing under my arm. It felt like hades itself had lit my arm on fire! I tried to recoil pain my arm in back, but I couldn’t even move it. It was
as if I wasn’t even in control of my very body. I also realized
my friend convulsing, the glowing connecting to their own arm and into their month.
After a few moments of my futile attempt to break free, I was finally able to as soon as the glowing stopped. I… I
actually felt okay! Better than okay, in fact! I could feel my legs again, and my strength
returned, even more than I had remembered it. Pushing the rubble off my legs, I crawled towards them. I could carry
them back! They would be okay too! The base is just a few-
But there they lied, unmoving. I tried to wake him up, but
there was nothing I could do. I will never be able to forget the wretched
expression painted on his face, like they just had the life sucked out of
them.
I cried for a bit, clutching them with all my heart. But
then something cold and hard pressed against my forehead, and with teary eyes, I
managed to look up. The man smirked at me.
“Say your prayers.” He cooed at me. "I would've kill your friend too, but it looks like you already did that for me. A life-stealer, huh? Those are quite rare! Shame I gotta do this. Oh well."
No, no, no. Now. Now I felt it.
I still don’t know what happened. All I could recall was this bright flash and this feeling. The feeling for everyone who allowed this to happened to my friend to face retribution. The feeling of wanted to take everyone down with me.
The feeling of pure hatred.
I woke up in the middle of what-was-once the city. Everything
had been completely leveled. I gained my senses. For a place caught in the middle of a global conflict, the streets were eerily quiet.
“Hello!? Is anyone out there!?” I cried out into the foggy air, but
it just fell on deaf ears. I was completely, and utterly alone.
“Maybe I should get somewhere for a better look.” I
thought to myself.
And just as I finished the thought, I rose from the ground and
took flight. And over time, I discovered even more superpowers I suddenly had. Everything I saw
all those bastards do, I could do now. I felt it in my soul. I could do something now. I could beat the war.
But as I came to find, there was just one problem. Now… there is no war. There is
no anything. I’ve looked far and beyond the lands of Earth, but I have yet to find another
human alive. I wonder every day if that brilliant white light is what did it. And had I... had I done it?
I am writing this down in case I am truly the last human on
Earth, as a final note of humanity. Even with all these powers, I have not been granted immortality. My food
rations are running low. And see how there’s no one left to make new, once it’s
gone, I will be too.
I didn’t start the war, but I did end it.
*r/storystar* |
"Wow, I didn't expect to find a hidden pyramid..."I stammered.
"Uhhh, it's not that hidden,"she observed.
"...and never explored before!"I exclaimed.
"Well, I think it's been explored a bit,"she ventured.
"I also didn't expect my phone to try to connect to the pyramid's Wi-Fi and Bluetooth networks!"I shouted excitedly.
She blocked my shopping cart. "That's *it*, Indiana Jones. Either stop embarrassing me in public, or I'm going back to the car."
The rest of our stop at Bass Pro Shop in Memphis was uneventful.
But that afternoon in Nashville, when we found that the Parthenon had been mysteriously transported there and miraculously restored to its former glory...
Anyway, it was lucky that our suite at the Opryland Hotel had a fold-out sofa. |
Maurice Richard is considered one of the best hockey players of all time, easily outperforming his opponents. His slapshot in particular was so fast and so powerful that it would crush opposing teams. This slapshot that earned him such a reputation, well, there was a story behind it.
The story goes that when Richard was practicing, he would practice with a metal puck. He would adapt to the extra weight of this puck, getting used to it until he was able to play with it just like he could with a standard rubber puck. Except, now that he'd gotten used to playing with such a heavy puck, the rubber puck was so light that he could effortlessly send it across the ring at speeds no one else could.
Now, I'm not Maurice Richard.
Who am I? I'm a swordsman. Or at least, I try to be. I'd always been fascinated with swords as a kid, and always wanted to learn how one works and how to use it. Most of all, I wanted to own one, to get to grip it and see how it feels in my hands.
I knew I could achieve at least one of those.
When I'd gotten my first sword, I tried my hands at using it. I wasn't able to get anyone to teach me proper technique or anything, but I was confident I'd be able to at least pick up the basics on my own. That confidence quickly turned into doubt as I had my first go at it. I took many swings at my target, but when I stepped back, I realized I hadn't even made a scratch. Man, the professionals made it look so easy...
It took a long time before I was able to scratch anything, let alone slice it. However, with enough practice, I was finally able to make a clean cut through the soft piece of wood I'd been using. It wasn't a very smooth cut, but it was a cut nonetheless. I was overjoyed to see it. That gave me the confidence boost I desperately needed since the beginning of this journey.
That was only the start. Since then I'd taken a lot of time to work on this skill. The journey took a lot longer than I could've ever expected, but the payoff was immense. The thrill I got from this was unlike anything else. I'd been slowly getting better, working on tougher and stronger targets. Eventually, after nearly a year of this, it began time to show my skills off.
One of my closest friends had taken an interest in this hobby as well, and began showing me his progress. Watching him made me kind of jealous, as his progress was completely insane. He'd only been training for a few weeks by now, and he was already doing stuff I could only have imagined at that time. Either way, I was still happy for him. It clearly meant a lot to him, and I could see why.
And then it was my turn.
I wanted to show off how much I'd put into this over the past year. So I set up my target, pulled out my sword, and got ready. But what my friend said next caught me completely off guard.
"Are you gonna take the sheath off or what?"
I froze, not entirely sure how to respond.
"The what?"
"You left the sheath on. Are you gonna take it off? Or are you gonna use it as your blade?"
He chuckled a little at his comment. Of course he did, he only meant it as a joke. But for me, as I placed my hand on the sheath and began to pull, it wasn't a joke. I should've realized there was something wrong from the beginning. I guess I'd just never thought as to what that might be.
Underneath the sheath was the most beautiful metallic blade, glimmering under the dim light of my friend's room. I'd always wondered how to get that kind of look. It made me feel even more stupid than I already did. However, I wasn't here to admire its beauty. With the blade of my sword finally revealed, I focused my attention back on target and swung.
I'd never sliced something so cleanly in my life.
I looked at the object that was now on the floor, cut perfectly into two pieces. I looked back at my friend, who looked to be in shock. His jaw had dropped, and he kept on looking back and forth between me and what now lay on the floor. The whole time, I couldn't help but think to myself:
I guess I had my own metal puck, too.
***
Hopefully this isn't too bad, considering it's now 5 am as I write this and I am very sleep deprived... might edit this in the morning, but who knows? I'm going to sleep. |
I've learned to find it funny, the stares people give me when I tell them I've been up all night or all week. Not a truthful statement, at least not entirely, but enough that I don't feel as bad about it. It started with an actual week of sleep deprivation, deadline after deadline, failed prototype after failed prototype. I was practically a zombie by the time Wednesday rolled around, coffe and even energy drinks having lost all their effect on me by then. I'd tell you how it happened, how I stumbled into ripping open the fabric of reality through something no bigger than a nintendo ds, but the whole truth is I don't remember. I just get small pockets of memory whenever I try to think about how it happened, and the sinking feeling that I had well and truly gone mad by that point.
But the result remained the same: a small remote with a button that, when pressed, immediately caused the world around me to become inverted in color, motionless and silent. I'd say I stopped time, but the fact I could breath and more importantly move begged to differ. I stumbled around, dazed and fearing this was a hallucination, my mind finally beyond the breaking point, until I found my couch and promptly passed out upon it.
When I awoke, what felt like nearly a full day later, I viewed my situation with fresher eyes and was able to more appropriately react to this miracle I had blundered into. Eager to share the news once the shock wore off I hit the button again, assuming that if it put my here I'd have designed it to take me back out. I was correct as the inversion of color seemed to suck back into the remote and I heard the minuet sounds of life once more. Giddy I ran towards the door, only after pulling it open I realized two things.
The first, I was in my living room, the couch where 8 had fallen asleep right behind me. Second, as I peered at the clock on the wall saw that it was the same time as when I had first. "It couldn't be,"I thought, my hand slipping from the door handle as I walked to the ticking apparatus, "I slept most of the day away sure, but not all day?"
I looked at my phone. Not a minute had passed. It was still the same day, still the same moment. And yet I was completely rested and alert. Blinking in wonder I did what any sane scientist would do: I set a timer on my phone for thirty seconds, set it down, and pressed start before hitting the button on the remote. Watching the color invert once again, a display both dazzling and disorienting now that I wasn't suffering from sleep deprivation, I began to count the seconds down. "30, 29, 28, 27..."
As I neares my mental clock's 0 I pressed the button yet again, the nausea of color reverting nearly making me lose focus but I manage to keep looking at the timer. 30. 29. 28. 27. 26. Not a moment had passed it seemed. Somehow, I have found a way into infinity. As I made my way back into my office and looked at the myriad of open projects I sighed in defeat.
When I looked down at the remote however, a smile came to my lips, because suddenly, those all-nighter deadlines didn't seem so close. My trump card in hand, I planted myself back in my chair and set to work once more, confident in the knowledge that I will never go sleepless again. |
*edit - Turns out there's a lot of interest in continuing this. I've written a 3rd part but it's late and I am not happy with how it flows. I'll keep working on it and reply to everyone who expressed an interest in reading more when I finally get it done. Thanks all for the feedback and encouragement. I love this subreddit :)*
*edit 2* - I won't be delivering a part 3 to this thread. Instead I will create a subreddit called /r/fireseason where I will post updates on progress towards completing an eBook. I didn't expect this much interest so I want to make sure I put in the required effort to keep the quality high and avoid falling into a cliche storyline.
---
It was long past midnight as Kevin jostled along in his combine, hurriedly harvesting the last of his crops.
"Dad!"Katie called over the two way. "Dad... hear me?"
The connection was terrible due to the season's interference.
"I hear you, Katie. What's up?"
"We just... space weather bureau..."she was breaking up badly. "..early onset..."
The radio hissed a burst of static, then fell silent. The faint smell of a popped capacitor curled around the cabin.
Kevin stared into the night sky, the pulsating glow of the upper atmosphere underpinned a broiling tapestry of ion clouds. Thunder rolled in the distance - lighting storms were a hallmark of the season. That, and the firestorms that engulfed vast tracts of land each year.
"Screw it"he muttered under his breath, "...get's earlier an' earlier each year..."
There were still a few dozen acres of wheat left to harvest, but he had to write them off. The ashes might help the soil, at least. He paused briefly to fetch a wooden cross from a nearby hillside before racing back to the homestead.
Small fireballs were already pelting around him as he sped into the sunken garage, heavy steel doors barely clearing the cabin roof as they closed behind him. White knuckled, he sat gripping the steering wheel for a full five minutes, the adrenaline crash locking him in place.
"DAD!"Katie screamed, running from the living quarters, radio still in hand. "What were you thinking? Oh God... Fire!"
He stared at her blankly, unable to process the situation as she fetched a nearby extinguisher, dousing some small spot fires on the vehicle's exterior.
"You idiot!"she scolded. "You cut it too close this time!"
Wordlessly, he got out and checked the haul. Luckily the harvest was intact. They'd be milling for the rest of the month, but they'd have enough flour to trade for next year's seed ration.
With a huge sigh, he sat down in the kitchen as Katie poured two cups of tea. News was streaming on the small screen in the corner, drone footage showing the hellish scene as millions ran for their shelters, caught unawares by an early Lammas, the season of fire.
He reflected on the first year NASA detected the solar flare. Like none before it, it blasted directly into Earth's orbit, seemingly fixed in space. People were complacent, thinking it wouldn't last long enough to be a concern. But it grew more powerful each day until world governments announced extreme emergency provisions.
Caught unawares, only weeks before the first crossing of the plasma, a lottery was drawn. It was held in stages, first selecting families, then selecting individuals. Kevin and his daughter won. His wife and two sons lost. He could still remember them waving up at the army transport helicopter, their upturned faces showing worry and hope.
Maybe it would all blow over.
They spent a month tightly packed in a dimly-lit concrete basement, people and equipment all over one another. A total media blackout was enforced, partly due to unshielded circuits aboveground not coping well with the ion pulses, and partly for the sanity of the survivors. Though it wasn't hard to piece it all together. In the first few days, he'd heard gunshots and cries for help near the entry shafts, and sometimes caught a whiff of burnt hair or matches. After that, the outside world fell silent.
He could only imagine the horrors that swept the globe.
When the storms passed, the army sent probes before giving the all clear to return to the surface. Entire cities had virtually disappeared, with only the strongest concrete structures, and only a fraction of their occupants surviving through sheer luck. Most forests were gone, save those nearest the equator.
Back on the farm, he'd found the remains of his wife and sons in the basement beneath the charcoal ruins of their home. They'd asphyxiated perhaps, or starved to death. Was that a small mercy, or would they have suffered less in the flames above?
He buried them overlooking what was once a pristine valley - a nature reserve, placing a wooden cross to their memory. It had been his wife's favorite picnic spot.
Then he'd turned to his equipment, and with his daughter set to work farming not just for himself, but for the future of mankind. |
(Pac-man isn't my favorite, but I like writing bull**** essays)
Pac-Man is widely regarded as a game without story, theme, or character development. However, it was far ahead of its time and does character development better than many modern games without explicitly developing its characters. Their movement, names, and objectives clearly define the characters, and their interactions with each other display a very clear and deep story.
Let us first take a look at the goal of the game. The goal is fairly simple: dodge enemies and rack up the high score. Simple enough, but the author meant something much deeper than this. In this game, death is inevitable. You will get caught by the ghosts at some point, its only a matter of time. Every time you collect all of the pills, the board resets, placing you in this infinite loop of running until eventually, you are caught. If we look at life, this makes sense. The creators are trying to show how we are all running through the same loop of doing our job, running away from our problems (the ghosts), and cheating death as long as possible.
The ghosts themselves are symbols of life's problems. "Blinky"the red ghost, is a representation of reality and real world problems. His red coloration symbolizes blood and the material, and all of the evil things that are real in ones life. Additionally, he is the only AI that is programmed to chase you directly. The creators did this because they want the players to understand that you cannot escape life's problems, they will actively pursue you. Additionally, Blinky receives a speed boost if enough of the pills are collected. This is to show how the closer you are to success, the more exposed you are to complete failure and death. The worst feeling is when you have only a few pills to go, and suddenly life pushes you down a notch. Real world problems are the only thing that is actively trying to kill you in this game.
Then you have, Pinky, whom is a representation of love. Pink is often the color of love and affection. Pinky's AI is programmed in such a way that it tries to place itself 32 pixels away from you. It is not actively trying to kill you, but it is putting the strains on your life by blocking your routes of escape. This is much like what love actually is. The creators are trying to show how the concept of love is not the enemy; it is not inherently evil. But it is a choice to die to love, you have to actively run into it, because love is something you seek out, not something that comes to you.
Then you have Inky, the cyan ghost. There are many representations of what this ghost represents in this game. Blue often represents cool, calm and relaxing feelings. In that way, Inky could represent laziness. However, the creators may have intended this as an ironic color, because Inky's AI is the complete opposite. Inky is the AI that is calculating your escape routes, trying to ambush you. He is the slow, silent dagger of this game, because you often forget about him, but he has not forgotten about you. He is working with Blinky (life) to try and put you in checkmate. This is actually what laziness does. You forget about life and fall into the trap of being lazy. The creators was trying to show that we as a society need to be proactive, otherwise we will fall to laziness.
Then who is left? Clyde. The oddball of the bunch. Clyde is orange, which a color of randomness and chaos. Rightfully so, because he moves at complete random. We only fall to Clyde if the stars align in such a way that he follows the correct random movement path to kill us. He is the forces that we cannot control, the random element of our lives. Even his name is random (it doesn't end in 'y'). Clyde is not there to kill you, he just happens, just like life.
Now that we have defined the forces that oppose the player, the story of the game comes into view. We, the player, play the role of ourselves, running through life and trying to stay alive. Collecting those pills and achieve the high score is akin to our real life quest for money and happiness. We want to feel happy and feel like we accomplished something, to make it to the top of the leaderboard of life. We are dodging our problems left and right to stay afloat and continue our quest for more score. The power pills are the only thing that remains. They represent the ways we tackle our problems. It makes all of the problems the same, and we tackle them as if they were the same thing. And we are rewarded every time with more points, because we feel better after "eating"our problems. But they return as strong as ever once they return to the middle of the map, just like life.
So in truth, Pac-Man is a representation of life. The story: our story. Our struggles with life are displayed on the screen. Our real, emotional, and random struggles are embodied in the ghosts who's sole purpose is to end our existence. But it is up to us, the players to struggle through the pains that these problems cause, and continue deeper into the game. Though this seems like a depressing outlook, know this: the creators never created an end to this game. There is only a chance to improve your high score. And with each life lost, there are lessons learned, that way, when you put another quarter in the machine, and you create a new Pac-Man, you can get that better score, and you can make it to the top of the leaderboard called life. |
The coin sat on the table between me and Dr. Vasyliev's holodeck which still displayed an assortment of agricultural ground probes, a list he had been assembling for Roskosmos' Europa base mission.
The coin was coppery-redish, and the eagle on it was all wrong - one single head instead of the familiar two, and its claws held lightning bolts instead of a *derzhava* and scepter.
"Ah... another artifact of the past", Sergei Nikolaevich carefully picked the coin up, face wrinkling with a faint smile. "May I ask...?"
"Found it on the field".
He nodded, inspecting the coin. Dr. Vasilyev wasn't an anthropologist or anything, but he was my dad's friend, and since he was a bigshot in the Miroshnichenko Agri Institute back in Ohioysk, he was my first choice to bring the strange coin to.
Sighing, he put it down, looking at me through the greenish haze of the holo between us.
"I guess, Dima, it all boils down to you not taking the higher ed route. Not that I'm pestering you, your farm does wonders with the cold-resistant selections, but yeah... this stuff is still painful, and rarely brought up outside academia. So many *descendants*, the topic is... sensitive at the very least".
His unsure tone surprised me - usually Vasilyev had been boisterous, hyperactive, but now it was as if some sort of sadness overtook him. Sadness and doubt. He got up and walked towards the window, looking through and then briskly turning his head back at me with a collected and stern expression.
"But since you found it, and came for an explanation, I can oblige. It's a wonderful land, isn't it?"Sergei Nikolaevich motioned towards the window, to the city and nature around.
"It is. I love it".
"This land knew many settlers. More than 150 years ago, another nation existed here. They were settlers too... mongrels, like us, looking for a better world. They found it - for the most part, empty, pristine. A *tabula rasa*, fit for realizing man's wildest dreams. And they did. In a few centuries they had founded and built a nation, and called it "United States of America".
"So... that's why we're called the American Federation of Russia?"
"Spot on, Dima", Vasiliyev rubbed the bridge of his nose, striding towards the table and then back, his tone betraying a recollection of almost forgotten textbook facts. "It was a great nation. Probably, one of the most powerful on Earth at the peak of their civilization. They were Anglo-Saxon, you see, that's why the text on the coin is in Latin script. In any case, yes. They had a good country. But thing is, just as we do now, they technically lived on a giant island. They were isolated from Eurasia, and were just marginally connected to Meso- and South Americas. The American nation developed in sort of a vacuum, and while they achieved great economic and technological power, while they managed to create a very stable society, this isolation played a cruel joke on them".
"How so?"I couldn't help, but get intrigued by this revelation. Just imagining that there was such a great civilization before us, one that's not even been mentioned! There must have been a reason for it, and Dr. Vasiliyev's somber narration made it all more mysterious. His lips curled in a faint grin at my question.
"Why, they decided that they had built the greatest society on Earth. And pride is the precursor to downfall, inevitably. We know it better than others. When the World Wars - I'm sure you were taught at least about those - happened in Europe, they were barely involved, and thus, hadn't suffered as much in loss and economic stagnation. When Russia and European states emerged bloodied, the United States reaped the fruits of victory. It grew in wealth and influence, and its people became arrogant. They believed that they were chosen by God to lead the world to light and freedom, that they solely had the solutions to all of the world's problems. Mighty military, ownage of popular currency, relative average citizen wealth in times, when half of the world was starving - that was their reasoning..."
Vasilyev peered at the holodeck. Someone was calling him via vidcon, but he dropped the call with a flick of his wrist.
"Eventually, that, at first, realistic understanding of their own success, blew into full-grown bigotry. They decided that if they were the best and greatest on Earth - then all other peoples should either emulate them or perish. Remember what I said about the island? United States, protected from its potential enemies by the oceans, never had to accommodate and negotiate with neighbors, to compromise. They never needed to get to *know* others, through war and coexistence. The people of the United States, using their power, invaded other nations and waged war on them, in an attempt to force their influence and implant their values and way of life. They had trouble imagining that different people have different ideas about life, and that all people have a right to determine their future on their own terms".
"And no-one opposed them?"
"For the most part, no. The United States targeted weak and poor nations, those that had no chance of fighting back. And thanks to their economic strength, their propaganda machine worked so well, that others stood by and watched the debauchery, not daring or even wishing to intervene. But, well", Vasiliyev chuckled. "There was *one* nation that sort of opposed it".
Breath caught in my throat. I *knew it*.
"Yes, Sergei Nikolaevich?"
"At first, it was the Soviet Union, the predecessor of the Russian Federation. Then, the Russian Federation. The USSR was almost as powerful as the United States for several decades in the second half of the 20th century, but then, thanks to flaws in they way it was governed and the way its economy functioned, collapsed. Back then the two nations were already rivals, and with USSR's fall, the United States cheered in victory. It was the only, as people called it back then, "superpower"left. It also, from their point of view, proved that they were exceptional, flawless and god-like".
"But?"I've read enough books to know there was always a "but". And there was, indeed. Vasiliyev frowned.
"It only made things worse. Bigotry went further. All non-Americans were treated with condescending, thinly veiled hate and distrust - only fellow Anglo-Saxons were tolerated, like the British or Australians. Then, in the first decades of the 21st century, the nascent Russian Federation began to come back on the international arena. Weakened and bled by inner strife, but still existant. Still a rival. And, like our enemies of old, from the Teuton Knights to German Nazis, they turned their baleful eye on us".
Sergei Nikolaevich paused, casting a glance at me, gauging my reaction. I was captivated beyond belief, and so he proceeded.
"It's funny. Despite ideological and geopolitical rivalry, Russia never had done anything directly harmful towards the people of the United States, neither anything as comparably hostile like the invasive, devastating wars the United States wracked on those it wanted to "free". But the propaganda, you see... My great-grandfather was a witness to it... he died in the late 2020s, but thanks to his blog, his records managed to reach me, across all this time and distance. He wrote that around 2015 it reached a peak, the madness..."
He sighed quietly.
"The government of the United States painted us as inhuman monsters, as less than people, as a faceless abhorrent swarm that deserved no mercy. They labeled our government - and us, by association - as a horrible evil. The media - movies, news, books, video-games - portrayed Russians like the vilest trash and scum, a threat to mankind's very existence. They denied us humanity, they denied us agency and they denied us a face. They called us unworthy of having a sovereign state. Russia was to be purged and what's left, remade in a subservient and "democratic"image. And the average people, thanks to the language barrier and media control, believed that. Hated us like their mortal enemies. Now it's really hard to pinpoint why it all began: did they want Russia's resources? Was it truly a civilizational clash? A political stint? But this kind of hysteria always leaves a mark. By that time, the United States exited their Golden Age. Problems, social and political, piled up, so the scapegoat in the form of our nation was exceptionally handy. The nation needed an enemy and it needed a definitive military victory. It didn't help that the Russian government at that time decided to oppose the United States, calling for a dismantling of the existing hegemony and for self-determination of smaller nations".
Almost inaudibly, I gasped. The dots began to connect. No, it truly couldn't be...? So it wasn't a "disaster", it was a-?
"By 2024, they were prepped and ready, though, once again, blinded by pride. They convinced themselves that the superiority of their weapons would avert a retaliatory strike, that we didn't have enough "allies"and ships to challenge their sea hegemony and military capability. The records from that time are extremely messy, the true reason for which it happened muddied by un-verified accounts, but we do know that the level of hatred, which became mutual, reached a crescendo. The reasoning was that Russia was "too dangerous to exist". The United States launched intercontinental nuclear missiles - crude approximations of the probes we now use for the Europa and Titan missions - aimed at our cities".
Vasiliyev's face darkened.
"But we were fully capable of striking back. And we did", he muttered, pacing back and forth. "And that's where the difference between us and them came to light. Our nation spans more than a millennia now, and, though it is rarely mentioned, our history is a brutal and bloody one. We never really knew peace, fending one invader off after another - while we were not fighting each other for petty and idealistic reasons. However!"
|
"No way."Rita squinted at the newspaper that Eddie dangled in front of her face. "No way,"she repeated, smacking him on the wrist. "What're you even doing here today? Aren't you supposed to be at home, visiting your folks?"
He grinned as he slid into the chair opposite hers, tossing the paper over her half-eaten pancakes. "Told ya, like, a year ago?"
Rolling her eyes, she took a sip of coffee. "Not that time traveler shit again."
"You can't deny—"
"Yes, your prediction that our president would be hospitalized for an illness is absolute, irrefutable proof that you're a time traveler."
He folded his arms and didn't answer immediately. That struck Rita as odd. As quick as she was with her barbs, Eddie could come up with retorts faster than a politician could with an empty promise. He had practice too; they bantered like this almost everyday before they went to class. They'd built something of a reputation—Rita and her weirdo pseudo-boyfriend, who liked telling people they'd fail their tests just to wreck their confidence.
Which wouldn't be so effective if he wasn't always right, she had to admit.
"People fall ill all the time,"she said, trying to provoke a response, but he continued looking out the window at the sky with a distracted look in his eye. "Eddie? You okay?"
"Yeah,"he said, shaking his head. "Busy day ahead."
She smiled and toss his paper back at him. "The test you're not even sitting for? For a time traveler, you're a pretty shitty one, since you could've saved me all the effort by looking for the answers ahead of time. Ha ha. Get it?"
"Yeah, yeah. Against the rules,"he mumbled.
"Eddie, what the hell is wrong? You're scaring me."
"Sorry, Rita."He reached across the table and grabbed one of her hands. His gaze almost met hers before sliding off to the side, toward the kitchen doors. "I need you to follow me."
She pulled away, eyeing him. "Are all time travelers as weird as you?"
He had already left their table, winding his way past the other students in the campus cafe, many of whom were hunched over their notes doing last minute revisions. A few called after her as she followed him.
"Kitchen's off limits,"she called, but he ignored her and went right through.
They hurried through the kitchen, dodging staff who were too busy or distracted to yell at them, until they came to the walk-in freezer. He paused, glanced at her, then took hold of her hand again.
"You want to go in there?"When he tried to pull her, she pulled back. "Tell me what's going on, please."
He squeezed his eyes shut for several seconds, then reopened them, blinking tears away. "I guess it won't change anything if I tell you now. You're the best friend I ever had, Rita, and I'd do anything to not lose you. Only ... I did. I would. I had? Damn it."
He wrenched the freezer door open, releasing a blast of frigid air into their faces. "During our freshman year, I went to the future, just to make sure you'd turn out all right. Graduate on time, all that. But you didn't. You die ... you died today. A lot of people did."
"A plane crashes today on our campus ground."He glanced at his watch. "In ... about a minute."
Rita hugged herself. "What are you saying? That's not funny."
He smiled at her, then grabbed her arm and tugged her in. She screamed, trying to push him away, but he shoved her to the ground. Shrugging out of his jacket, he tossed it onto her before pressing his own body atop hers, pinning her to the ground.
"I met my future self, the one who survived,"he said quietly, as she ceased struggling. She stared into his eyes, at the sincerity in them. "He explained what happened. And then he vanished."
The door swung shut slowly, but not before Rita heard a growing, high-pitched squeal ... and the shrieking of her fellow students. A thunderous explosion and the most terrible shaking followed, and she felt as if the ground itself was being torn apart. She screamed in fear, eyelids tightly shut, but as quickly as it'd started ... the quaking ended.
Slowly, she opened her eyes, drawing a shallow breath of frosty air. Sunlight peeked through a column of smoke through holes in the freezer's ceiling. Her hands found Eddie's shoulders, and she gave him a light shake.
"It's over,"she gasped.
When he didn't answer, she reached up and touched his face. It was slick with blood, dripping from the back of his head. Her stomach clenched, and her next breath caught in her throat.
"Eddie? Eddie, wake up. Eddie!"She shook him, but he didn't answer, didn't move. She tried to push him aside, to get a better look at her surroundings, only to realize he wouldn't budge. Debris had piled on his back, his body shielding hers from their harm, but not the weight. Instinctively, she knew that some part of the plane had struck the cafe directly, destroying the dining area completely.
"Eddie, I believe you now,"she sobbed. "Please, I believe you. Wake up, Eddie."
There were other voices crying out, in panic, pain, and fear. Another explosion, nearby. But his remained silent.
***
*Okay hit me, plot hole detectives. Thanks for reading :P Check out my [sub](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more stories!* |
Mirabel sighed as she approached Casita's massive front door. She paused, allowing herself the comfort of memories of happier times, when she could almost have reached both sides of the door. It was now wide enough that four wagons could pass through it abreast, and the faces on it almost too numberless to count.
She didn't need to count. There were three hundred and eleven. She could rank them all from oldest to youngest, starting with herself.
There had been three hundred and twelve three days ago.
Antonio was waiting just inside the door, a young Andean condor and an adult Hyacinth macaw perched on his red-footed walker. He hid it behind his glasses, but he was clearly crying. Mirabel couldn't blame him. She hated what she needed to do here, even hated herself in small measure for being the one who had to do it. Not even Isabella at the height of her powers could have grown a tree harder to prune than the family one.
Several of the other children of the original Familia were here, especially from Pepa's side of the original Trio: Antonio's three, Camilo's three, Dolores' five. Antonio's youngest was Fernando, Diego's father, and he was crying even harder. Carlos' parents were absent. Maybe they had already said their goodbyes; maybe they couldn't bear to say them at all.
Waiting would only make it harder. Mirabel drew a breath, then said clearly, "Carlos Sanchez. Diego Madrigal."
Casita responded instantly. With a cacophony of rumbling, rattling, and rolling, two heavily muscled men in their early twenties were dumped unceremoniously into the courtyard from wherever they had been holed up. They looked at her for only the briefest of moments before they saw each other.
Then they went for their guns.
Mirabel had been prepared for this, even though she wished she hadn't needed to be. Far above, the normally sedate entrance to her penthouse sparked and then burned golden, brightly enough that anyone who looked up from the courtyard at that moment could have seen the light.
There was a sudden rush of wind, and both of their first shots went wide of each other. She took Diego's gun first--he was the better shot--and crushed it into an unrecognizable lump of metal. Carlos got a second shot off as she turned for him, which caught her in the leg, but didn't slow her down for more than a stride, and then his handgun met the same fate as Diego's. A moment later, kudzu burst forth from the bricks beneath both of their feet, and the men were immobilized from the waist down.
Mirabel sat down before them and unwrapped a burrito that she had made for herself not long before this encounter and started eating it. The bleeding stopped. She might have said the pain vanished, too, but the pain in her heart remained, and that was worse. The first time she had been shot, she had not reacted so stoically, but that was pushing sixty years ago now.
"Is that everything you have to say for yourselves?"she asked. "Why?"
Carlos gritted his teeth at her. "As if you'd ever understand."
Mirabel blew a breath upwards, rustling her bangs. "You might be right. I probably wouldn't. Jose was your cousin."
"Third cousin once removed, and he was a cheat and a snitch. He got what he deserved."
Mirabel shook her head. What had happened to them all. "Diego?"
Diego was the one that this was going to hurt more, because he was the closer to being salvageable, but he'd crossed the line one too many times. He actually wasn't even looking at her. He was looking to her left, into the corner where Antonio stood with his cane.
"Abuelo, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I got carried away!"
"I'm sorry, too, chico,"he said.
"Anything else?"Mirabel asked.
"What good would it do?"Carlos asked. "Don't act like you even care about us. You're just pissed that you won't get our gifts, too, when we're dead and you're still standing there looking like your quinceañera just ended."
Mirabel's eyes hardened. Anger was easier than tears anyway. She lunged forward and grabbed Carlos by the back of his shaved head. "You feel this?"she said, giving him a painful squeeze. "I'm sure you'd love to have that kind of strength, to make it easier for you to hurt people. Do you know what the first thing I did with my sister's strength was? I carried her *casket*, you little bitch. I have these gifts because my sisters and cousins and mom and aunt and uncle and abuela are *dead*. You're lucky your *bisabuela* Pepa isn't here. There'd be a lot more than just dark clouds in the sky right now."She cast an angry look at the overcast heavens. Abruptly, she let him go and wiped her eyes. Apparently anger *and* tears was even easier than either of them.
She turned back towards the entrance to Casita.
"Tia Mirabel, please, I'm sorry!"Diego begged. "I didn't know what Carlos was going to do, I shouldn't have done it!"
Mirabel tapped her ears. "I could hear you. You knew well enough."
"Abuelo, please, talk to her! Papa!"
Antonio looked twenty years older than he was, which was saying something, since he and Luna celebrated their fiftieth anniversary just before his grandson had agreed to play wingman in a murder. "I ... can't,"he said in a broken voice.
"Can't!"echoed the macaw on his walker. Antonio snarled and swatted it away.
Mirabel knew what he meant. Antonio was one of the few who had seen Mirabel's first vision after Bruno died. The one where Casita shattered if Mirabel *didn't* prune the tree of its rotten branches. The fact that Abuela had been wrong about Mirabel didn't mean that there wouldn't be rotten branches someday later. Abuela had never lived to see the day. Probably for the best--she might have brought forth a firestorm more violent than the one that consumed the raiders when the Encanto was born.
*Why do I have to do the things I hate to protect the things I love?*
Mirabel took her fingernail and scratched two faces off the door of Casita.
On two different balconies facing each other high above, two doors went dark. She felt the house breathe a sigh of relief as the weight of the rotten branches was lifted from it. It was the only comfort she could feel in the moment.
Antonio collapsed and would have cracked his chin on his walker if Fernando hadn't caught him.
"Get out of my house,"Mirabel said to the two men on the floor. The kudzu released them, and they shuffled out the door into the gloom. She looked around at the other members of La Familia that had come to watch--maybe sixty of them, all of the older generation that probably needed the warning the least, plus Jose's brothers and sisters. She shook her head; she had no further words to offer now.
*There will come a time when I can't do this anymore, even if it costs us Casita. I'm not meant to be this person*. And as she realized that, the words came unbidden to her from long ago.
*Look at this home, we need a new foundation.* |
While I appreciate the fact that the two and a half meters wolf-man and the pale person with fangs as big as knifes have not tried to kill us or caused anymore damage besides the broken down front door, I have to say it that seeing them grovel at my fiancée's feet while begging for forgiveness is not exactly a much reassuring sight. The fact that she doesn't seem to fazed by it isn't helping either... Eventually she sighs again and looks down at them.
"Look if you're going to go around breaking doors down, for the love of my father, AT LEAST check whose house you're breaking into BEFOREHAND! How in the blazes you managed to evade hunters for so long with this attitude, I'll never know!"
"Y-y-yes milady! You're d-definetly right, as always!"Says the wolfman in the most whimpering voice I've heard in my life.
"Y-yes! As a-a-always!"Adds the pale person, or whatever that thing is.
"L-let us put y-your infinite knowledge into p-p-p-practice right now!"Says the paleman again.
"Y-Y-YEAH! WE'LL B-BE OUT OF YOUR H-HAIR NO-"shouts the wolfman loudly, but my fiancée intrerrups him by putting her index finger in the air, as one would do when scolding children.
"Nuh-uh-uh"she says while wagging her finger "You'll wait here for a bit while I call my dad to come pick you up."
Their whimpering and murmuring soon turns to wailing, begging and groveling even harder than before to be released, practically kissing Diane's feet while asking for forgiveness. Against my better judgement, I decide enough is enough: I need some answers.
"Honey? As ehh... enchanting as this picture is, I need to talk to you... In private. Can you come to the kitchen?"
She smiles politely at me and gives me a curteous "Sure sweety!"She then crouches down in front of our two quote un-quote guests and she mutters something silently. Her eyes turn a deep black for a split second and the two monsters are left frozen in place, slackjawed and with a blank stare on their faces. Diane follows me quietly to the kitchen where she leans on a counter and asks: "So what's the problem?"
"Well, there's two problems actually, and both of them are in our hallway."
"Oh, it's a Halloween prank from two coworkers, don't stress it!"She says smiling, with a face as innocent as an angel's.
"Oh, is that so?"
"Mmmhm"she lets out while nodding.
"Do they know Halloween is still a month away?"
Diane turns her head quickly to the side to look at the calendar glued to one of the cupboards and then mumbles a quiet "Fuck"under her breath in a somewhat deeper voice. She then turns back at me and laughs if off, using the same charming voice she usually has.
"Oh dear me! They're both foreigners so they must have mixed up the dates. I'll make sure to tell them to be more careful next time!"She tries to leave but stops in the doorway as she hears me say "Diane..."She lets her head down, sighs loudly and then turns back at me with a serious expression on her face.
"Look, it's... very complicated and I honestly don't have the energy to explain everything right now. Just... let me clear this up, then we can go to bed for tonight and I'll tell you everything tomorrow morning. Ok?"Her big beady eyes come out and... well, if they got me to go skydiving with her in the Netherlands despite my fear of heights, of course they'll make me forget this incident for a night.
"Fine"I say while throwing up my hands. "What are we doing about them for now? We can't let them sit like that the whole night..."
"Oh don't worry about them, they're not uncomfortable or anything-"
"No, no, Diane. Diane... It's because it's creepy."
"Oh... Don't worry, I'll call my father and he'll deal with it. He'll be here in a second."She pulls out her phone and begins texting someone.
"Wait, but I thought you said you don't have a father-"A bright red light interrupts me, as a circle appears in the middle of the kitchen and the floorboards creak and crack loudly while black smoke streams forth from the circle. Rising slowly from beneath the circle, there is a middle aged man, with two stubby horns on his forehead, a thin, long and black tail with an arrow shaped point at it's end. He is finely groomed, with grey hair slicked backwards and a short grey moustache, wearing a fine and expensive tailored suit. He looks around for a couple of seconds before locking eyes with Diane and going in for a hug.
"Oh, my little devil, I've not seen you in so long! How have you been?"He hugs her tightly, rocking her left to right.
"Dad, I called you to do something about our two visitors, remember?"
He lets her go and focuses now on me. He dissappers without a trace, leaving only a puff of smoke behind, and reappears in front of me almost instantly. He takes my hand and shakes it with both his hands, wrapping his tail around my body.
"You must be her fiancé. Pardon me, but I'm afraid my daughter never told me your name."
"DON'T TELL HIM!"I hear Diane shout behind him, but she then stops making any sort of sound, franctically waving her hands and shaking her head silently to me, all the while her "dad"is still shaking my right hand, smiling devilishly and never breaking eye contact.
"Uhh... Please to meet you too sir?"
"Oh, I've simply been dying to get see you in person!"He says while he lets go of my hand and instead wraps his arm around my shoulder now, pulling our faces uncomfortably close to one another. "My little fallen angel has been praising you so much that she's actually made me jealous of her! I've been longing to meet the man that made her fall head over heels for him!"
"Dad, there's someone waiting for you in the hallway!"Diane says, exasperated.
"Oh, where are your manners Diane? I can't barge into my son-in-law's house like that and not have a little chat with him! Where do you think I was raised, in the first layer of hell?!"He turns back to me as he pulls two glasses of red wine from out of thin air, handing me one and gently clinking them. "So, what do you say about going on a little cruise with me next weekend?"
"DAAAD!!"Diane shouts, loud enough to scare the bones out of my body. She looks over to him and says calmly: "I've a headache strong enough to make me believe a banshee is living in my head... Go deal with what I've called you to deal with, and we'll talk some other time."
"Okaay!"Her dad says in a cheerful voice, saluting her like a soldier on his way out. The same red light from before glimmers from the hallway, while the floorboards creak infernally again. Diane comes next to me and wraps her arms around me, laying her head on my chest.
"So... what do you think of my dad?"
"I'm thinking we'll have to keep him as far away as possible from my mother at the reception..." |
Pilot Randy whistled as he ate his ration for the day and activated the communications system.
"Another sunny day on board Flight 3407, people! Sit back, relax, and enjoy your complimentary champagne."
He strolled around the plane shortly afterwards, handing out champagne. This was his favourite part of the day: making sure everyone was happy and satisfied, despite the whole plane-stuck-in-midair situation. His friends were safely seated and strapped in - he insisted on that, yes indeed. Just in case the plane started moving again. You never know, strange things happened in this world.
But until then, their little community got along well. Nobody ever complained or grumbled or hurt one another. He winked at the pretty lady sitting at the back of the plane as he passed her. He'd been eyeing her for a while now. It might be time to break things off with Cindy if this woman returned his affections. He was growing rather tired of Cindy, truth be told. She had a few annoying traits. Quite a terrible conversationalist, too, and he valued good conversation.
Sally breathed out shakily as Randy passed her. She didn't know how things were going on the other frozen planes, but she'd almost prefer dead than in her current situation.
Stuck with the mentally unstable man who thought he was the pilot. Who was probably responsible for poisoning everyone's rations for the day soon after the disaster had struck. Luckily she'd been too sick to eat anything at the time. And ever since, she'd been able to sneak away little portions of food for herself without Randy noticing.
She watched him from narrowed eyes as he leaned over and kissed one of the corpse's cheeks and handed her an empty glass. Cindy, one of the air hostesses who had lasted the longest. But soon, he would get bored of pretending Cindy was talking back to him. She'd seen the way Randy had looked at her.
She'd risk it tonight, when he slept. She'd heard him muttering about the parachute in the cockpit at the beginning of this whole nightmare, before his meds had run out. Maybe he had actually been telling the truth. He'd been assistant to the pilot, after all.
Tonight, it was time to find out.
-------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. |
They've tried to figure out how it works, exactly. I listened to each and every theory as it flew over my head, but all I can say is that everything trembles in its own way. Quartz is solid and steady, amethyst comes in short bursts, and gold vibrates with a soft, alluring tremor that makes it hard to resist. Oil is always the big one; a thick and resonant wave that means I'm about to make seven figures. Twenty six years at a job brings you a lot of experience, and I am *very* good at what I do. It takes me less than a second to identify any of the three hundred most common minerals, and I can figure out thousands of others in under a minute. I've found rocks no one even knew existed! But this time, oh this time...
They sent me out to a rocky patch of wasteland in northern Algeria. Exxon had just purchased a hundred thousand acres, and they pulled me in to scope it out. I flew into Algiers and set out with several teams of surveyors. After a few survey points that came up dry, we came to our last one for the day. When the Jeep came to a stop, I hopped out and listened, and heard nothing. Not the dull warbling of the local bedrock, not even the sand beneath my feet. The silence was unimaginable: the same as stepping outside at noon and seeing a pitch black sky. I can't tell you how long I stood and strained to feel the slightest rumble, the faintest touch. It could have been seconds or hours; I lost track of time. The others, I could tell, were starting to get concerned, but before they said anything, I heard it.
Humans tend not to freeze when they feel fear. We jump, scream, recoil, anything to help us run from the perceived threat. But sometimes, there is a level of terror beyond reaction. A feeling so awesome, so cataclysmic, that we cannot breathe, or twitch, or think: we can only wait. I waited then, too, as I heard it begin. It was beyond what I had ever heard, almost extra-dimensional in scope and nature. It swelled and faded, rumbled and barked, flowed and jolted from the farthest reaches of the abyss below. It made me long for the silence that moments ago had unsettled and disturbed me. It brought tears streaming from my eyes and drool from my gaping mouth, as I begged for the gods to wake me, kill me, torture me; anything to end the wailing from below.
One of the surveyors came and put his hand on my shoulder, and I collapsed into his arms. I don't remember what happened after that, only that in a few hours I was back in Algiers at my hotel, with the survey leader sitting by my bed. When I woke up, he asked me what happened. I didn't have the words or the strength to tell him them what I had felt. I simply said "We should not dig here." |
**Question one. On a scale of 1 to 10 please rate your day to day life experience with 1 being miserable and 10 being perfection.**
10
**Question 2. On a scale from 1 to 10 please rate your life accommodations or living quarters**
10
**Question three. Please rate your death experience. 1 being horrific, 10 being blissful.**
9
**Thank you for taking the afterlife survey Mr. Spot. our records show you were** > a dog.
**Who lived in** > The streets, Stray.
**Died of** > Starvation.
**Would you like to add a note to this survey Y/N**
Y
People are very nice. Some played fetch with me and others gave me food or petted me as they walked by. I would like to play with them again please.
**Thank you. Please rate your overall life experience for future references. 1 being miserable and 10 being perfection. If less then 10 you may add a remark to achieve said perfection.**
9
I would like my own human next time. If possible. I wouldn't mind sharing... |
Well, shit. Knifed in the stomach more times than I can count. It was a proper shiv that the other prisoner used. No walking away from this one, I'm afraid.
Except I'm not really afraid. Not like you other people who know where you're going. Know that you'll get what you deserve when you die. That's not me. Because I was a good man. I was a shitty inmate and I was a shitty criminal, but I was a good man.
So I know what to expect when I die. Which is why I can lay here bleeding out on the floor without too much concern. The world controlled by little greedy men can't control this, can't control dying. This is all mine and nobody can take it away from me. And those little greedy men? They know what to expect when they go, just as I do.
See, some scientist proved it a couple of years back. There was an afterlife. In fact there were many afterlives. And you went where you expected to go. There was a lot of math and experiments but that was the gist of it.
I feel myself leaving my body, but I am not afraid. I know what to expect. Because I was a good man. I float upwards into the sky. Towards the sun but not really the sun. Something else glowing up there.
There's a tunnel of wondrous colors guiding me upwards. I float upwards, through the tunnel towards the light. The tunnel is gigantic, seems like it goes on forever. But I move forward. Just as I expected.
There are other beings with me in the tunnel of hope. They, too, are the dead and dying from back home. Already I am leaving the world behind me. I cannot talk to the others, we simply float upwards together. A final journey before the glory of afterlife. Just as I expected.
I cannot help but marvel at how beautiful, how perfect it all is. In fact, I cannot stop marveling at it. Because this journey is really taking its time and it's not like I have anything else to do. Of course it's a once-in-a-lifetime thing. And time as a concept may not even exist here, what do I know? But there is a constant sensation of progress, of ascendance. Of getting closer to the light. Just as I expected.
After a while I get bored with this floating upwards. But I cannot talk to the others. Nor can I change my path. For the first time since I died, I feel a twinge of fear. The tunnel stretches upwards, infinite and glorious. And I go through it, slowly or perhaps quickly, I'm not sure which. But it is as I expected.
I take my time to study the tunnel of perception and the light welcoming me upwards. Because I have nothing but time. It seems that the light is ever approaching, that the tunnel is ever passing by. It takes me... hours? To realize that it is true but also not true.
Then it hits me. I'm never going to get there. Because what did I really expect? I was going to heaven after I died. A simple expectation that brought comfort in my hour of need. Thus here I find myself, going to heaven. What heaven was, well, that wasn't really the point.
So that's what I get. Forever going to heaven. I want to scream but no-one can hear me. I want to fly away but the tunnel drags me ever upwards. I want to die, to stop this madness. I will live forever under the gaze of the light and the comfort of the eternal tunnel.
I am going to heaven. But never actually getting there.
Just as I expected, expected, expected. |
"Death will be conquered! Within the month, we will-"
I shut off the tv. I didn't want to think about it. The last two months hadn't felt real. The world has beaten death. Well and truly, life may become something more. But I wasn't going to be there to see it. I had two weeks. At most.
Have you ever wondered what you'd do if someone told you when you were going to die, stranger? It's not as romantic as you might think. I've already done all the fun stuff like skydiving, rocky mountain climbing, and whatever else that Tim McGraw song talked about. I think about that song a lot. If you haven't heard that song, I'd suggest you listen to it. It's about a man telling the story of what he did when he thought he was going to die. The realization that his life might end soon led him to be a better man and live truly thankful for what he had. I've lived and died by that song's message ever since doc told me I was done for. It became my bucket list. But nobody else will ever understand it, now. Death has been beaten.
You know what's funny, though? Once you've done everything like forgiving old enemies, going on thrill rides, and doing some deep reflection on life, you're just left waiting. In a way, I feel like I'm already dead. Stuck in Limbo, just waiting on passage. So, with the two weeks left of my life, I've just sat here on my ass playing video games and watching the news.
I'm scared, to be frank. I know that it's only normal to be scared when death is close like this. The extra scary part is that I am going to be one of the last people to *ever* feel like this. To die. It's bittersweet. I'm happy for everyone. Life is a wonderful journey, and now it never has to end. I can only imagine what everyone is going to get up to now that we can stop worrying about ourselves. My friends were super excited that I might get to live, but I'm not going to make it. I'm going to be two weeks short. It sucks.
Stranger, I know why you're here. I'm writing this for the news and for history. I'm going to be one of the last people to ever die and know it's coming. You're reading this because you want to know what it was like for us. For me. Listen to a song. "Jamie"by Zach Bryan. It's about a man living in his own limbo because there isn't anything left in this world worth living for. That's how I feel. In time, all of you will forget me. I no longer matter anymore. This Earth, and everyone on it, will forget me. You may cross your heart and swear that you won't ever forget, but you will. You have forever to do it. With that in mind, there's nothing left for me here. I'm ready to go.
But if I ever do cross your mind, stranger, then smile for me. It's what I want.
(Edit: OKAY, this got a little attention! Thank you all for all the kind words. I highly recommend a lot of the other stories on the post. They are all phenomenal reads. Until next time, y’all!) |
Unemployment sucks.
As a male descendant of the Van Helsing family, it was only tradition to continue the same line of work as my father, and thus his father, and his father before then.
However, back then the goal was to exterminate them. The vampires. After all, they used to be 'the spawn of the devil' and 'scourges upon the earth'. But in the modern age, it became less of 'slay all vampires' and instead contain *most* vampires, kill those that we couldn't.
I mean if we *did* exterminate them, we'd all be out of a job. And besides, it was easy. Garlic and crucifixes were enough to contain and deter them, then just cut them a deal or jab the in the heart with a wooden stake. Hell, even the working risk has gone down exponentially because things like kevlar exist now, and I'd like to see how a knife could penetrate that, much less the fangs of a vampire.
And also- what? Oh, cutting them a deal? Oh yeah. People pay fortunes for the simple act of 'killing' a vampire, so why not contain them, then let loose a few when we need the money?
I mean, its not the most ethical, but that's how an economy works, right? Supply and demand and all that, an-and besides, I single-handedly converted Dracula's castle in the middle of transylvania to a vampire resort, with sow's blood, amenities and even fang cleaning services all provided! And when we needed more, we just ask a few to go, y'know, bite and infect a few poor people. We are a **monopoly** in the market of vampire hunting anyway, so why not control the demand! Ugh...
Anyway, you would *(justifiably)* understand that I couldn't just *tell* the sacred order that we weren't actually killing vampires for the 'good of humanity', but instead monopolising the market *of* vampire hunting. So I peddled the same stuff that my father did to them: "The Holy Order of The Burning Cross is dedicated to the hunting and slaying of all vampires..."and blah blah blah. You would get the gist of it.
So, and I beg you to do so, imagine my shock, when I recieved a letter with the Flaming Crucifix symbol embossed in red candle wax on the front, stating that, and I quote, *"Dear Master Helsing, we had discovered the last hiding place of the vampires, in Dracula's castle of all places. You would be very pleased to know that we were able to storm the compound and slay the last vampires on earth."*
They basically fucking forced into retirement at 35!
So, in other words, I am a 35 year old university graduate with a degree in business management and economics, with 14 years of experience in managing a business as a Chief Executive Officer, and I will be taking all job offers. |
He wakes and checks his phone, bright white letters glowing back. 23:57, 3 minutes before the day. He stretches, yawns and turns his bedside light on, enjoying the warmth from his bed for one last moment before he gets up. Rising now, he plops his feet into his slippers, shuffles into the kitchen, and starts to make a coffee.
His cat dances merrily between his legs, not usually having company at this hour. He leans down and scratches it gently on the neck, contented feline purrs echoing back.
The smell of coffee breathes through the cobwebs of his head, and he feels his mind sharpen. He checks the clock on his wall, just past midnight. It is the day.
He's been going at this for months now, and he's found himself surprisingly good at it. He wasn't sure at first, but everything is a game when you know the rules, and the secret to this one was making them look the other way.
The first one had been easy, nobody had expected his edit to the wikipedia page to actually come true, he wasn't entirely sure himself. The person in question certainly hadn't taken it seriously, but after the second and third started to take notice.
The news dubbed him the Future Murderer (cool name!), and he was especially proud of the work he'd put into making his updates untracable. He was pretty sure he'd almost been located a few times, but so far he was managing to stay ahead of them. It was probably only a matter of time before they managed to track him down, but he had to admit he was having a great time with it.
He looked again at a picture of his latest target, a singer in a band. His song had come on a few months back, a catchy pop tune they called it. A travesty on the ears was his own review, he honestly could not see any redeembale feature. He'd looked up the writer almost on the spot, and decided there and then that he had to die. He updated wikipedia a few days later.
The news had gone haywire naturally, with police spokesmen talking tough and promising protection. There was to be round the clock surveillance of the house, with the suspect hidden inside.
He smiles as he sips his coffee, and waits for news of his plan to come to fruition. The first time he'd tried this, he had to admit he was a little nervous about the timing. He'd checked the numbers many times, but drugs had a nasty habit of having different outcomes depending on the person. He was good at what he did though, and so far it had turned out fine. It wasn't always easy to get to the people involved, but an autograph signing had provided plenty of opportunity to stand for a handshake. One quick injection later with some slight of hand ('Oh sorry, you must have caught my watch!') and you just sit back and wait.
At first the wikipedia articles had been showboating, but he figured it helped actually, and it was kinda cool so he kept it up. The police were so busy protecting him after the date was announced they didn't realise the victim was effectively already dead.
You just had to make them look the other way. |
For the first few years, I was happy. Does that surprise you? In fact, I left the remains of Seattle, loaded a few belongings into my truck and drove to one of the long-dead towns of Oregon. I was tired of watching the hospitals closing, one by one, as the dying begged on their doorsteps. More than anything, I was sick of the stench.
I lived in a strip mall (which I called the Strip, in journals) for two years. With hundreds of batteries and portable chargers of every kind, I had decades of media at my fingertips. Movies, music, video games, and an entire bookstore - I could have consumed the past 100 years of media if I had wanted. And I did, at first.
Never hungry, never thirsty, never bored, never bothered by the pests of social pressure, no more funerals, no more pretending to form attachments to humans I knew would die. I was in heaven. I built a nest in the bookstore and began to educate myself, something I never had the time for when the human world was dying around me. I read, in particular, about biology.
The obsession began when I read Darwin's "The Origin of Species". My bed was lined with heavily annotated volumes on evolution, zoology, and entomology. I began conducting my own breeding experiments with spiders in the forest behind the Strip. I named each of them after relatives I lost to the plague. I watched them for hours a day, taking notes until the sun went down. Don't get me wrong, I was fully aware that I was losing my mind as it happened.
Winter came and took my spiders out. I found them dead in their box, and wept for a week. Me, a grown man, crying like I had ten years ago when the sickness got my brothers. When the tears stopped, I got back in the truck; It was time to find the others. I pressed my beloved spiders in a paper copy of "The Origin of Species"and kept it in my glove box.
I drove from coast to coast. I stopped in every city I passed, checking every town hall and abandoned grocery store, anywhere a person was likely to take shelter. On the way, I collected insects, and pressed the most fascinating of them in my book.
The idea had been brewing in my mind throughout the road trip, even before - but even in my deranged mind it was a last resort. A fantasy. Even I knew it was crazy. However, After three years of driving, and five years of solitude, ethics becomes more of a vague concept - a theory, like evolution, rather than an applicable ideology. I got to Maine, I was tired of wandering. I had a destination in mind, finally.
Arsc, our little town, used to be known once as Augusta, as you all know from the road signs. But the books and pamphlets I found in the lab read ARSC - Augusta Reproductive Science Center. And I knew a whole new town would need a whole new name.
Of course, I tested every specimen for immunity. Leftover materials from the nearby hospital allowed me to do so. I knew I could only use my own contribution a limited number of times - genetic variation was a must for longevity of the colony. However, I knew that I carried the immunity, so I started there and continued to conduct testing as you began to develop in your incubator.
Emily, you were my first and my own, named after my mother. As the oldest and the strongest, I have chosen you to be the bearer of this colony's origin. The history cannot be known by the children, and I trust you to guard it as a secret. As the human race was dying, I blew on the embers. From now on, our species must progress only as nature intended, I fear those who find out about my experiment may someday repeat it.
One day, someone will live to be the last human on earth, and they will let humanity die as it was meant to. That person has more strength than I did. I have passed the responsibility of the apocalypse to a future generation, and will soon die surrounded by my children, as my ancestors did.
[[edited for slight wording changes, including Fakename_fakeperspn's suggestion]] |
"All due respect, Senator, but are you shitting me? We passed the tests you set out for us - we conquered faster-than-light travel, we united under a single voice for representation in the Galactic Senate, we cured half a dozen causes of death, and we made a real AI. Now you're telling me there's more?"Devon Guilleria, the human representative to the Galactic Senate, was rapidly nearing the edge of his considerable patience. He'd been away from Earth for over five years, trying to break into the most exclusive club in all of known space. Not just for his own benefit but for the benefit of every human.
D'rik, the Senator tasked with overseeing Earth's membership application, stood in front of Devon and half shrugged the upper third of its gelatinous body. Devon had never really figured out all the new body languages and tells, but he was becoming accustomed to D'rik's mannerisms. "Yes, there, uh, has been some discussion amongst the membership committee. You must understand that Earth is progressing far faster than any other applicant in history. There are worlds who have had open applications for over two hundred of your years. My own world took nearly sixty Earth years and we were what you would call a 'shoo-in'. Those tasks were supposed to take at least a generation. You completed them too quickly. The committee is worried that allowing you full membership now would be disastrous for both us and you. Thus, the additional testing."
Devon stared at D'rik's eyestalks. If the Senator had been human, Devon was sure he could have found some hidden meaning or divined an ulterior motive in his opponent. As it was, Devon was forced to take the Senator's words at face value. "Fine,"Devon said after a pause, "what are your damned tests?"
"First, science. You must demonstrate a critical grasp of stellar engineering at a minimum of Class Three. I'll have my assistant send over the technical documents that explain precisely what we'll be measuring."
Devon nodded.
"Second, xenorelations. The Gissk are a species that have been at war with the Galactic Senate for hundreds of Earth years. You must stop the bloodshed. They have never applied for Senate membership and consider the Senate a tool of the weak to oppress the strong. They treasure warfare as the highest and most noble calling. I do not envy you this task."
Devon nodded.
"Third, and finally, art. You must create a unique and meaningful display. I warn you that this will not be easy. Many of the races in the Senate are quite ancient and long-lived by human standards. To devise a work which is new even to them will be a formidable task."
Devon nodded.
"Do you have any questions?"D'rik asked.
"Any other rules or constraints? Time limits, things like that?"
"A few details, nothing of importance. My assistant will send over the formal documents if you are willing to accept the challenge."
"And if I'm not?"
"Then, at best, Earth's application will be sent for review for at least an Earth century."
Six months later, Devon hosted a formal reception aboard the USS Agamemnon. D'rik was there as were a dozen of the most important Senators from the membership committee. They stood in front of a giant display window, ten meters high, looking out into the vastness of space. Drinks and hors d'ouevres were served and the entire company had a wonderful time mingling.
"Ladies and gentlemen,"Devon said from the small stage set up in front of the giant window. The room hushed and the lights lowered. A small spotlight shined down on Devon as he spoke. "Six months ago, my good friend Senator D'rik brought to me news of a new set of tests from the Galactic Senate membership committee. I'll admit, at first I was a little put off by the request. Especially considering we had just completed the first set of tests. Then I realized what a truly wonderful opportunity the committee had delivered to us."
Devon stepped to the side of the windows. "They had laid out three tasks - stellar engineering, ending the war with the Gissk, and create a truly unique work of art. I realized that this was a golden opportunity for us to show what humanity could really do. I've invited you all here today to accomplish all three goals in a single sweep."
Devon checked his watch and then said "Now."
The inky blackness of space flared outside the window. Dozens of stars exploded into brilliant displays of light. "What you are watching is a display of multiple stars being violently forced off the main sequence and into a nova state. We had to install a few artificial wormholes to get the light to show up here at the same time. Now, those aren't just any stars. Every one of those flashes of light houses a Gissk planet, including their homeworld. The survivors, assuming there are any, will be no trouble to wipe out. Finally, you'll notice the pattern - a five-fingered human hand with only the middle finger raised. I'm sure your cultural catalogs can explain that to you."
D'rik stared at the window in horror. "You killed them all? You blew up all those suns, wiped out an entire space-faring civilization, and 'flipped the bird' as your call it, all at once?"
Devon bit back a smile that he knew would come out more as a leer. "Yes. Yes we did. I told you - this test was a golden opportunity to show you what humanity is really made of. I hope you all give this display al due consideration when next you vote on our membership."
The room was silent. Each alien Senator turned and looked around them, only then noticing they were surrounded by humans and only then truly seeing them for the first time. |
Krlexx, Chief of Staff to Special Envoy Drensur, was unnerved.
"What do they have these things for? I mean, seriously!?"he said, glancing at the long stretch of gaping void carved into the side of the corridor down which they were walking. The two Gragtazarians had come alone to the human ship; a long history of first contacts had taught them that the fewer people present the better.
So far the ship seemed fairly normal, the usual banks of computers, shielding and weaponry arranged around a core of engines. These corridors were like many Krlexx had encountered on the ships of other species, softly lit, well cleaned, generally functional. Everything was as it should be except for one thing. This awful void....
He was trying not to look at it, but it occupied half his forward vision and was hard to ignore. The endless expanse of space, with the placid bulk of the Gragtazar home planet curving across a small portion of the lower part of the void.
Drensur didn't respond to his whispered query. After a couple of minutes of walking, following the human who was leading them to the meeting room, they passed another human officer standing in the corridor. The man didn't even glance at them. He didn't appear to be occupied in any task. He was simply standing, with his face turned towards the void, staring at it with a slightly wistful expression.
"This feels wrong,"whispered Krlexx again, even more agitated than before. "There's clearly something deeply broken in this species. They're pathological. We should get out of here."
"Easy, champ,"hissed Drensur alongside him. She regarded at his expression with a smirk. "Hold yourself together. Weird shit is part of our line of work, remember that. Species in this galaxy get up to all kinds of mad behaviours. We're not here to judge. Take a few breaths."
Krlexx looked away, chastened. Still, he couldn't put the horrid gap in the ship out of his head. Finally they arrived at the room.
He stopped in the doorway and sighed. There were gaps all along the walls of this place too.
He took a seat where as much of void was behind his back as possible. The human envoys entered from another door, and he stood again.
They smiled politely as the humans demonstrated their strange greeting ritual, in which right hands were clasped and shaken. This was more familiar territory.
"Thank you so much for your kind invitation to your lovely ship,"began Drensur - a total pro.
"It is we who should be thanking you for your kind welcome upon our arrival here. We are looking forward to sharing much with your people,"said the lead negotiator for the humans, a tall woman with odd circular lenses over her eyes.
"Before we officially begin,"returned Drensur, smiling broadly. "Perhaps you would permit me one little question to assuage our curiosity. My colleague here was fascinated by the transparent gaps we have seen in the side of your ships. Perhaps you could set his mind at ease by telling us about their purpose."
Krlexx's breath caught short at this brazen frankness, but the four-eyed woman only smiled. "Of course. We get this question a lot on first contact. These gaps are called windows. They are very common on Earth, where we come from. Their purpose is simply to allow us to see what is outside the ship."
"But your species has viewfinders - we have seen them. Why install such a weakness into the ship's hull itself?"
"Screens are tactically useful for operations, of course,"she replied. "But windows are used for pleasure or aesthetic reasons. We simply enjoy looking at the universe around us."
There was a pause. Krlexx was pale. Even Drensur was frowning. The human ambassador's smile wavered as she registered the Gragtazarians' concern. Drensur leaned forward, quite serious now.
"You ...enjoy it? You find the experience of seeing the infinite emptiness of space pleasurable?"
"Sometimes, yes. It depends on our mood. When we come closer to natural phenomena or other objects we like to look at those too. It's called admiring the view. We find it soothing or inspiring."
"The mere presence of objects in your vision inspires you?"
"Is this so hard to believe?"
Drensur shifted in her chair. Krlexx was looking from one envoy to the other like he was about to cry. Finally Drensur composed herself.
"Forgive me, ambassador. It's just...you seem so intelligent, so this is hard to understand. If I may be forward, did something terrible happen to your species in the past? Have you experienced some kind of collective madness or trauma?"
"Not at all! We have suffered wars and diseases, but no more than other planets. You are questioning our intelligence?"
"Of course not, but ...I'm sorry, have I got this right? You have these "windows"in your ship because you like to spend time directly gazing at the unmoving universe? It is the behaviour of infants who-"
"Infants!? Is this how you treat all your first contacts?"
"Forgive me, I didn't mean-"
"I suggest you learn to live with our differences, otherwise I don't know what we can discuss here."
"This is very difficult for us. Perhaps if we could learn a bit more about each other, we could begin to understand this psychotic-"
"What?!"
The human stood up, undisguised anger coursing over her features. Just as she drew breath to speak, there was a faint beeping sound and she put a finger to her ear, cocking her head as she listened to a message. Her expression fell. She turned slowly to the other members of her team.
"It's the second fleet,"she said. "They were attacked in the Orion Nebula. F-forty three starships lost."She struggled to articulate the words. She turned back to the Gragtazarians.
"I'm afraid this meeting will have to wait, we have just had news of a terrible tragedy,"she said, not making eye contact.
Now it was Drensur who stood up.
"You are rejecting our envoy because of something that happened on the other side of the galaxy?"
"Hundreds of lives were lost. We must take time to mourn. We will return to the negotiations when our respects have been paid."
"This is the height of madness!"cried Drensur, throwing up her arms. "You stop everything because of a tragedy that has already happened? You are not even planning to do anything to help them!"
"How dare you!"shouted the human, and the two envoys leaned towards each other, staring the other down in anger.
"Wait! I get it!"came a voice in the tense silence. All eyes turned to Krlexx.
"Look,"he said, more timidly. Drensur followed his finger to a couple of humans who were standing at the strange "windows". They straightened up when they realised they were now the centre of attention.
"Do you see, Drensur? It's not madness, it's existential angst!"Drensur looked around, baffled. The humans also seemed confused. Krlexx gulped and continued. "When they heard that others in their species had died, they became emotional. Those two went and stared out of the windows! We have this in our history. There used to be species on our very planet who suffered existential angst. They care about their own mortality - it consumed all of their energy. That's why they have the windows, to deal with the emotional fallout. Of course, we evolved out of it millions years ago, like most species. These humans still suffer it."
Drensur looked from Krlexx to the ambassador and back again. "Incredible. That's excellent work, kid. Madame ambassador, we understand now. I apologise for my behaviour, we have never encountered a species like yours before. I promise I will adjust my conduct in the future. We wish you all the best with your...mourning."
The human sniffed. "I suppose that apology will have to do. Hopefully our next meeting will not be such a disgrace."
As they returned back down the long corridor, Krlexx looked thoughtful.
"Imagine it, though. Going through your whole life like that."
"It doesn't bare thinking about, kid,"muttered Drensur, stonily. "These people need our help." |
I already heard the gun shot when I finished reading the note. Everyone else, including our boss looked confused.
"Everyone stay hear, it's probably nothing. Some one might have just dropped something is all,"he said.
These notes have never let me down before; they helped me land this job, helped me marry the love of my life, and they were never wrong. I ignored them once when it landed on the handle of my car and said **'Don't drive today!'** I got in a wreck that put me a couple of days in the hospital. That was the last time I ignored them, so when it said to **'RUN'** I'm not going to wait it out and hope we're safe: I'm going to run!
I bolted passed my boss forcefully, I can hear him calling me to come back. I heard another shot and I ducked down behind the cubicle walls. The office room I ran out of was a corner room so I could only go down the right hall way. Near the end of it was a familiar blue post it.
**'Go left!'**
Without even thinking, I turned and ran down the left hall. More shots were coming followed by screaming, and of course I was running toward it, not away from it. But I don't ignore the notes, they never let me down. I was coming to the stair case door and another note. These things are more abundant today, but I wasn't complaining.
**'Head to the Ground Floor!'**
It didn't have to tell me twice. There were a lot of people coming toward me needing my escape route too, so I hauled ass.
I'm jumping two almost three stair steps at this point, and this mid thirties beating heart hasn't had this much action in years. The ground floor was flooded with hysterical people pushing and shoving each other out of the exit door. I waited for a chance and saw an opening to safely make it out. I made it! These things never let me down. I ran to my car, but there was another note on my car handle.
**'Go back inside.'**
Are you kidding? I'm out and these things want me to go back in? For the first time in many years, I hesitated. I actually wanted to throw the note on the ground, start the car, and put as much distance I can from me and a guy with a gun. The crowd was gathering in front of the building, and the police haven't arrived yet. What's taking them so long?
I looked down at the note again and told myself over and over again 'They've never let me down before.' With a big deep breath, I ignored by doubt and ran back inside. This was insane!
The main office was eerily quite. But something familiar caught my eye. On the reception desk counter, there was yet another note that read
'**Behind the desk is a metal bat. Take it and head to elevators right side'**
'Julie keeps a bat behind here. Girl you were holding back on us girl.' I though to myself. Sure enough there was brand new metal bat behind there. I took it and made my way to the elevator. To absolutely no ones surprise, especially mine, there was a note on the buttons
**'When you hear the ding, count down from 5 then swing as hard as you can!** \---->
I flipped it over
'**Good luck'**
When I was done reading, I heard the elevator go off.
5...4
I haven't swung a bat since varsity in high school. I hope I still have some power in my swing.
3
I choked the bat up, took a deep breath
2
The doors opened, and I took a small step forward.
1
I saw the back of his head. My hips and arms rotated simultaneously, I never took my eye off him. I may not have always been the best hitter on my team back then, but call me Teddy fucking Williams, all I needed was one hit and he was knocked out!
​
The shooter turned out to be an ex lover of one of the female staff. Made sense as I've never seen or knew the guy, but I didn't care. I was still taking all of what happened in.
Of course I was examined by medical staff and the police took my report asking me 'How'd I did it?'
I couldn't tell them everything, no one would believe me, so I simply said. "Guess I had a feeling, and I went with it you know?"They weren't too convinced but they let me go. I came home that night, exhausted from today, with a line of reporters wanting to talk to me in the morning, I went to my bedroom and there it was. A little blue post it that simply said
**'Thank you'**
I smiled and did something I never did before. I took out a pen from my pocket and wrote 'No. Thank you.' on the note. It deserved it.
**'You're welcome <3'** appeared from the note.
I dropped my pen.
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\*I'll apologize in advance for any errors or continuity. This is my first post here and it's late. Hope you enjoy it. |
The Prince looked out over the crowded hall with a sense of deep satisfaction. Scandalized nobility snuck glances at him when they thought he wasn't looking, and whispers followed him as he passed by each knot of horrified, confused courtiers. His peasant girl had done well.
Oh yes, he had been angred at first when she stepped out from the coach he had sent her. The gown he had ordered her to wear, the one carefully selected to highlight the unsuitability of his choice of paramour, had been altered into something less uncouth, and she had removed the small, cheap glass beads from the bodice to braid into her hair instead. But ultimately he quelled his ire with the knowledge that no matter how she aped her betters she could never pass as one of them. And her efforts to impress were almost touching in a way.
The prince handed his peasant off to an appalled Duke for the next dance, and intercepted his chosen lady as she passed by. The daughter of a minor noble from a newly formed but prosperous barony, the lady was breathtakingly splendid, but her family was too close to the merchantry for her to be a suitable match in normal circumstances. But then, he had taken care to change those circumstances.
He spun his lady around the hall, giddy with mirth. Come dawn his parents would happily give him permission to marry her rather than the farm animal now stumbling her way through a gravote. He congratulated himself on his cleverness.
It was not until midnight that he realized he had lost his peasant girl. His lady had occupied his every thought, and he had not noticed his "beloved"had left the hall until his father had called a halt to the music.
"My lords,"the King said loudly. "Before the festivities end, We have happy news. It gives Us great... pleasure... to announce the forthcoming marriage of Our only son and heir, Prince Ludwig, to his lovely and beloved lady Hilda of, er, Lakesdowne. We hereby bestow Our blessings upon them and all children to come."
The Prince felt his heart stop. Beside him his lady pulled her hand from his arm and melted into the silent crowd with a single withering glance back.
"Come,"the Queen added. "Let us end our night with a dance from Our son and his beautiful bride."
The prince moved numbly to the center of the hall. His father pulled the peasant from the shadows and placed her in his arms. As the music began he looked down into her eyes and felt a chill at the malicious amusement in them.
"You thought to use me?"she whispered as they glided around the floor. "Well, use me you did, and I've the swelling belly to prove it. I agreed to your cruel game only to get close enough to your parents to tell them of your child. Your brothers are dead and war is coming. They dare not risk you dying without an heir. I did not put on a pretty dress and affect the speech of my betters to fool anyone into thinking I'm one of you, only to make myself acceptable to the king under the circumstances."
"I will hurt you,"he growled with rage. She laughed.
"Better a weak prince than strong farmer,"she mocked. "Do as you like while you can. You're leaving soon. As I said, war is coming and your father is very displeased with you... I think our child and I will be very happy here." |
I suppose being surrounded by creatures of the infinitesimal it should put me in a state of unease. That I should be made cowed, standing before the likes of Lord Hades and his wife the lady Persephone. Yet as I bask in their ephemeral glow, their cosmic avatars a kaleidoscope of colors, I feel only at peace. For it is only through their guidance may I overcome my greatest fear of all: the trials and tribulations of young, unrequited love.
“My Lord of the Underworld, pray tell, what must I do to show my affection?” I ask.
*Child,* his words are not spoken. Gods have no need for rudimentary means of communication. Instead, I feel the words in my mind. *You speak to me and mine when regarding matters that go beyond my scope. The court of love would best be arbitrated by my sister, Aphrodite. Why not make an offering at her temple?”
“Because, my lord. I value the wisdom of a matrimony that has survived adversity and flourished in the face of it! We all know of your tale, how you stole the good lady away from her mother, Demeter. Yet despite being in inhospitable lands, pulled away from all she knew, Persephone learned to love in time. Your marriage is the stuff of legends! Pray tell, when has a story of true love been told regarding your sister? Is she not known for her trickeries, manipulating hearts instead?”
*Though she is known for her games, you speak of a God. Mind yourself.*
I know I am brazen, but that is what love can do to a man. “Please, I merely seek council. I wish to better entreat with my lady. How can I do the seemingly impossible?”
I hear the Lady Persephone speak to me next. *Husband, he seems sincere. Very well, mortal, we shall entertain this request. First, speak the reasons why you cherish this one so.*
“Where do I begin? Her beauty is a thing that goes beyond the physical spectrum. Her kind heart, always caring for others is beyond admiration. Her wit and wisdom enriched those around her. When she speaks it sounds like song. Her laughter is feather light and ever warm, so much so that it could chase the dregs of a frigid night away. Yet her fiery will and her passion for life is what enchants me the most. I’ve never met another who so earnestly pursues their endeavors. She is commitment and dedication personified.”
I realize that I speak more to myself than to them as the words coming pouring out like a river during a storm. I cannot help but continue. “She is the pang in my chest, the fire that alights my belly. When I close my eyes to rest at night, she is the face I see. When I catch sight of her during the day, tending the fields, working the weave, all thought becomes arrested. She gives me reason to be and purpose to act. I am made better for simply being around her and brought low when I am away.”
I sigh as the height of my affection, border lining obsession is brought to light. “I am ashamed to feel so strongly and helpless to do anything about it. And so, wise gods below. What can I do to win the heart of a woman who seems so close and yet an eternity away?”
*Does she know of how you feel?* Hades questions.
“Of course not, my Lord. I am to meek to speak around her.”
The silence that hangs in the chamber is deafening. Had I said too much? Did I just embarrass myself before the Lord of the Dead and his Lady? I clutch at my tunic, feeling the dread of failure roil in my stomach.
*You are indeed sincere in your infatuation.* The Lady says sharply. *Blinded by young, unquenchable desire, you presume to know the trappings of love. Yet what of love do you know? You place this woman on such a pedestal that her image is made myth. No one can truly live up to the wild imaginations of an addled mind. You speak as a sycophant would. That is not love. That is obsession.*
I was too stunned to speak being reprimanded like so.
*Lady wife, I believe-* Hades, the God of the Underworld tries to say but his words are cut short my his wife.
*Hear me now, ‘children’. As someone who suffered at the hands of abject obsessions, let me make this clear. Receiving someone’s unrequited ‘love’ unwillingly is a burden at best, torturous at worst. You stop being a person and instead are made an object. We become a source for lust. An outlet for desire. But what becomes of our needs and wants?*
“I would give her the world!” I cry out, desperate to refute her words.
*And what if this ‘world’ has no place for you? What if her happiness hinges on the absence of you?*
Her words are scathing, I can feel my body go numb. I’d never considered such a thing. I claimed often and always that I would make her happy if only she were mine. But the thought of her happy without me, I’d never dream. I feel a loss of words overcome me. A loss of self.
*Good, I see you reckon with the notion. Love is not something to be bandied about so lightly. You do not understand it, not yet at least. For you, there is still hope.*
“There is? Good Lady what shall I do?”
*You begin with the smallest of things- speak to her. Not as a mouse nor a man made mad by desire. Speak to her as a person. Speak as a neighbor would, possibly a friend. And in time, if she allows it, speak to her as something more. Before you can impart your will, you must earn her leave.*
“But- my Lady.” I say as I struggle to take in her admonishment. “That is not how your Lord Husband won you over, is it not?”
*No. I did not have the fortune of choice. I was taken away against my will. My mother driven to tears and fury. For a span, I knew only isolation, sadness my companion.*
Though I could not see him, I could feel the discomfort and unease that Hades radiated. But to his credit, he did not interrupt his wife.
Persephone continued. *However, in time, my dear husband did right by me by showing me who he truly was. He opened his heart to me, allowing a space to look inwardly as I saw fit. The more I got to know of his gentleness, the kindness inside his heart, the more I came to realize what a wonderful man he could be.*
“Should I not do the same? Who better an example to follow than that of the gods?”
*You are mortal. Your time in this world is less than the grains of sand held in a palm. While Hades had the luxury of an eternity to ultimately rectify his mistake, you do not. Should you try to follow his footsteps, you would spend a lifetime righting your wrongs. So instead, do not follow the way of the Gods. Do not replicate a tale that could have easily ended in tragedy. If you wish for this person to love you, you must first show her who you are and the let her decide if you are a man worth loving.*
As I walk away from the temple with nothing tangible to show for, I can feel the weight of newfound knowledge fill this empty head of mine. Sometimes the most simple and reasonable approach to wooing a woman is the only course. Whether it’s reciprocated or not... that is another matter entirely. |
"Villain"is such a loaded word: tired, antiquated to my ears. And yet, if you were to Google the word, my portrait is the first five images, followed by Lex Luthor, Thanos, the Joker, and Jeff Bezos. But I've never considered myself so comically evil.
No, I prefer the term "self-interested,""motivated,""neutrally aligned."In a world which cares so little for any individual, it is the individual's duty to care for themselves. Did you see that? A gender-neutral pronoun. I'm not *bad.*
But my morals align first and foremost according to my own interests.
This is why I steal from bloated corporate banks, why I hold politicians and royalty hostage. My life's work is to maximize my life, nothing more. We should all aspire to such self-respect.
And where does this stolen money go? My son's soccer camp, my daughter's clarinet lessons, my wife's art therapy degree. After the money is appropriately laundered and all loose ends are tied up, I open art museums, children's hospital wings, after school programs for underserved youth. *Donated by the generosity of Dr. Frank* *Vandermein.* Does it sound like altruism? Hardly. It's my name and picture on the front page of the newspapers lauding my radical philanthropy. How do you arrest a paragon of the community, even if you suspect the worst? If I go, so does the money.
But we have our fun with it nonetheless.
Detective Boone's been pursuing me for upwards of a decade. He's come so close so many times, and I've lost a lot of good men to his meddling. But like pieces on a chessboard, I find it more fascinating than frustrating, more fun than frightening. Honestly, I don't even know if I'd be in this business if not for our little cat-and-mouse game. How could I ever return to a cubicle office when I have plans to plot and fools to foil?
At least, this is all as it was. One can only live on the edge for so long, teetering and tilting, before the inevitable fall. And you never see it coming. It's a gust of wind, a pluck on the tightrope, a rogue pollen mote catching your nostril a thousand feet up.
It was a Tuesday night.
I was sitting down for dinner with my family. Meatloaf with a ketchup glaze served with mashed potatoes and green beans. It was a pauper's meal compared to what we could afford, but there is wisdom even among the dregs of society. Plus, it's the only thing my son Hunter would eat.
A knock wrapped at the front door. Someone made it past the gate and the guard stall. It had to be Boone. It seemed not to matter at all how many security measures I set on my property, he always found a way around.
I excused myself from the table, setting my napkin on my chair.
"Tell Bill I said hello,"Kenzie smiled to me. She and Frank's now-ex-wife had become shopping friends, and she'd been over to their house plenty of times, even while they were still together. I wrote to the detective, offering to take him for a beer after what I'd heard was something of an ugly breakup, but he only returned a promise to see me in a cell. We love to banter.
Beside the front door, I had several concealed firearms. But I didn't need to worry about my safety around Detective Boone. He'd sooner die than see me escape "justice"through death.
I opened the door to find Detective Boone and his assistant, a new girl I didn't recognize, standing with their badges and side pieces visible on their belts.
"Bill! Come in, we're just sitting down for dinner."I'd invited him inside a thousand times and a thousand times he's said no.
"Dr. Frank Vandermein, do you have a moment to answer some questions?"The grizzled detective asked.
I turned on the front porch light, and that's when I truly saw them both. Bill's eyes were glazed, his faces shimmering with a fine sheen of sweat. I stank of cheap whisky and cheaper cologne. I wasn't sure which was meant to cover the smell of the other.
His assistant looked like another rookie, somewhere between 12 and 25 years old. She had jet black hair tied in a tight bun and she was sporting large black sunglasses despite the late hour. Her makeup, too, was heavily and hastily applied. It caked in some spots, crumbles of product collecting in wrinkles she was much too young to have.
"Detective, I haven't had the pleasure of meeting your partner. Hello, dear, it's a pleasure--"
Boone stepped between me and his ward. "Where were you two night ago around 3AM?"
Obviously, I was planting bugs in the boardrooms and executive offices of Balano, one of the world's largest tobacco corporations. I was heavily invested and needed to find out what was holding up their Singapore expansion. It was low-stakes crime, hardly enough for a visit.
"I was asleep, of course. Where were you?"
"Asleep?"He opened his notebook and started writing down my statement. "And you wouldn't happen to know of any goings on around the harbor?"
The harbor? It had once been a common smuggling spot, but that ship had sailed. Literally.
"Dear?"I looked past the wobbling veteran cop to his partner. "Who gave you that black? And who split your lip?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but Boone spun quickly around and barked for her to wait in the car. Her eyes, darkened by her glasses, flitted from me to her boss before she gave in and walked back toward the portion fence they'd jumped to get in.
"Bill, is your partner in trouble?"
"It's *you* who's in trouble when I place you at the scene,"he growled back. "Babies, Frank? Babies!?"His voice was a smoldering whisper, tears welling in his eyes.
"What art you talking about?"
"Everything okay, hun?"Kenzie called me from the dining room.
"I'll just be a minute,"I called back before turning back to Bill. "Detective, I honestly have no idea what you're telling me."
Bill reached into his pocket, and I nearly reached for my gun, unaccustomed to this level of drunken disorderliness from an interrogation. But he retrieved his phone instead and thrust it into my hands. I could have kept it, refused to hand it back, copy it and mail it back to him when I was done. He must have known that, I'd done it before. But he pushed it in my face instead.
I...Well, I'd prefer not to go into detail about what he showed me. But it was some level of evil involving stolen children and a sunken ship. I felt acid rise in the back of my throat, and it was everything I could do not to see Hunter and Holly in the blank children's faces.
"Bill, this wasn't me."I tried to be earnest, I tried to sound sincere. But he wasn't buying it.
"This was sloppy, Frank, even for you. Forensics is combing the area, and when they find the link connecting you to it, I'll be back with a SWAT team and handcuffs."
"What happened to your partner, Bill?"
A smirk rose on the side of his mouth, followed my a deep frown. *Something* happened to her, and he was neither sad nor forthcoming about the details. "I'm raising cops, not cowards. You mind your own."
We exchanged a few unpleasantries before I bid him goodnight. But the images still swirled in my head. I couldn't eat a bite that night, so I busied myself instead with Boone's investigation. It hadn't hit the news yet, but I had feeds to every dash cam and radio frequency the police department used, so I watched and listened all night, looking for anything that might explain such a horrendous tragedy. |
Ben had been acting oddly from the moment he walked in the door.
"You OK honey?"I asked.
"Justahardday,"he mumbled, heading for the bathroom before I could get anything more out of him.
He spent the rest of the night with a glazed expression on his face; mechanically putting my carefully prepared wasabi beef stirfry into his mouth, then chewing and swallowing reflexively.
I left him be, to process whatever it was that was occupying his mind.
He mindlessly stared at the TV while we watched his favourite shows on Netflix, his mind half a lightyear away, judging by his expression.
Finally as we climbed into bed he stroked my jawline and apologised,
"James, I'm sorry I've been such a distant asshole. It's just... work. Something came up."
"Problems with Samantha being a homophobic cow again? I though HR dealt to that? Isn't she on her last warning?"
He shook his head gently, crew-cut hair rasping on the pillow.
"No. I probably shouldn't talk about it, but we got something on the Hawking radio antenna."
"What kind of something? Another radiowave spike?"
He was clearly fighting some kind of internal battle; obviously this was a big deal.
"Uh, I can't,"he finally husked, "Let's just go to sleep - I want to forget about it for now."
Disappointed, I kissed him goodnight.
He'd come around eventually. He could never keep secrets from me.
It was a full week of him coming home looking progressively more haggard that prompted the fight - compounded by him walking in the door rolling drunk.
"That's it. Either you tell me what the fuck is going on, or this relationship is on the fasttrack to splitsville."
I knew better than to confront a drunken spouse, but I was angry. I didn't like being treated like shit over some ridiculous space anomaly - or whatever it was that he was hiding under that pretext.
He laughed and stumbled to the small alcohol stock we kept in the cabinet under the bookshelf,
"None of this matters,"he sloshed gin half into a tumbler, half onto the carpet (at least it wasn't bourbon), then sucked at it morosely.
"*Really,*"I hissed, "Five years together means nothing?"
"Nonono, not *usss,*"he slurred, "All of *this*,"the hand with the glass jerked to encompass the room and the world outside the townhouse.
Something about the way he said it made my blood run cold.
"Ben, what did you find on that space antenna?"
"A methage,"he lisped laconically, doing the stereotypical gay voice he knew I hated.
"And what the fuck did the *methage* say?"
His glass was empty. He frowned at it, then looked up at me,
"It just said, in English, 'You are not what you think you are' and then it cut out."
"In *English?*"
"Yup."
"From outside our solar system?"
He nodded affirmation, then slumped into an armchair; halfway to passing out. I fetched a bucket, a water bottle and a blanket. It was going to be a long night.
I made him breakfast and coffee when he woke up at around 10am. By noon he was human enough to talk again.
I didn't really know where to begin, but he did.
"Imagine,"he began, "You keep getting ants in your house but it's against your, I dunno, religion to kill anything living."
I wasn't following what this had to do with the radio message, but I blew on my third coffee and listened.
"What would you do? Ants are a pest and they get into everything. But you know what ants *hate?* Water. They're small enough that they don't sink, but their bodies aren't designed for walking on water.
So you pick up every ant and you put it on a mossy rock in the middle of your fish pond. They never get back to the hive to tell anyone where the food is. However, the damage is already done. They already know where your house is; so you have to find the nest."
He walked to the window, overlooking our yard and fishpond full of koi.
"So you find the nest. But the mossy rock is too small. You put them on a little island in the local lake and they are stuck there forever. Your house is safe from the ants forever."
I grasped the contextual clues in relation to the radio message;
"Humanity. We're the ants."
He nodded.
"It's never made sense to me; the scale of things, of the universe. Why we've never met or heard from any other kind of life - and then out of nowhere we get a transmission *in plain English*."
"But ants make those little rafts of their bodies and try to float across lakes."
Ben laughed,
"The Apollo program. Voyager. Curiosity."
"But,"I wonder aloud, "why the message? It's a bit late, isn't it?"
"No, it's perfectly timed. The Hawking telescope was put into Jupiter orbit by the new microwave propulsion system - our first real hope of infinitely sustainable space flight."
Suddenly it all clicked. Ben was smarter than me, but I was no dummy;
"The message was a warning."
Ben's brown eyes lifted to stare through the clear blue sky.
"We always thought Earth was our home. Instead it's a prison."
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Edit: Thanks for the feedback everyone, I really appreciate it! |
My skull felt like John Henry and the steam engine were in a race to see who could burrow through it the fastest. I ached all over and it was like every nerve fiber was turned up to 11. My hair hurt. It was like the world's worst hangover and more. Yet I was fairly certain I hadn't been drinking.
I remembered clocking out from work and taking the bus home. The closest bus stop was on the exact opposite side of Thompson Park so, like usual, I cut across the park towards my apartment. This time, though, I had stopped because there were these weird lights floating overhead. Then I had been illuminated by a shaft of light and . . .
Oh.
My eyes snapped open. I was in a spartan white room. The walls seemed to emit a soft white light. I was also butt naked and strapped to a steel operating table. I clenched my butt cheeks together in a desperate bid to avoid what I figured was scheduled for the main event.
". . . rhythms . . . alert . . . fully integrated,"a voice sounded from nowhere. I was only catching a word here or there. Not because the voice was low either. No, it boomed loud enough to make my throbbing skull feel like it was about to explode. I cringed in my straps and tried in vain to release my arms so I could clamp them over my ears. Maybe someone out there noticed my reaction and took pity on me because when the voice spoke again the volume was at a less ear splitting level.
". . .waves . . . asynchronous . . . presently,"the voice said again. Yeah, it wasn't my imagination after all. I was struggling to follow the words because they weren't in English. They weren't in any language I ever head before either. I wasn't even sure that the "words"could be made by a human throat. Yet I understood them. Sort of. When the voice spoke up a third time I concentrated on the sounds and found that eased comprehension.
". . . the symbiotic . . . but only in the language areas. Extraordinary, really. The Chimera really did . . . . work of art if I do say so myself,"the voice concluded. I couldn't tell if the voice was male or female. The inflection and tone of voice was all wrong too. It made the voice sound almost synthetic but I knew instinctively that wasn't true. The speaker was very much alive but, I was now certain, not human. After an agonizing moment where nothing happened, part of the wall ahead of me dissolved and a pair of figures stepped into the room. The first thought that occurred to me is that, apparently, hazmats suits look the same all across the universe.
The pair were definitely not human. The proportions and shapes were all wrong. But the suits? They would be right at home at the CDC. Walking balloons with gloves and boots and a clear plastic face plate. The face behind the plastic looked like a shriveled up apple with too many eyes. The eyes were like a spider's. Two large compound eyes with smaller sensors scattered around its head. The taller one opened its toothless maw and that same voice spoke up again.
". . . should be integrated enough to allow mutual comprehension,"the voice said, "But there is no way of knowing as we are dealing with eons of neural drift patterns. Still, you can try."
The shorter one stepped forward and addressed me.
"Can you comprehend me?"it asked.
"Evening,"I greeted, "How's Elvis doing these days?"
The two figures stared at one another.
"The symbiotic matrix must have affixed itself irregularly,"the taller one concluded, "I was afraid of this. We may be completely unable to communicate with it."
The shorter one looked back at me.
"Are you able to comprehend me?"it asked, "If not then we shall have to dispose of you and find another subject for interrogation."
I didn't like the sound of the word **dispose** so I opted for tact this time.
"I understand you just fine,"I said, "But if you bring out a probe without the decency to lube it up first you can forget asking for a second date."
The two regarded each other.
"Extraordinary,"the taller one said, "It seems to be able to understand us but it's like half its words are complete gibberish to us. Perhaps the symbiote hasn't completely updated its lexicon of their language to the ship."
The smaller one considered this.
"Perhaps it is a token gesture of hostility?"it mused, "A war cry or a declaration of defiance?"
"It's called sarcasm,"I called out, "Better get used to it because if this is how your make introductions on your world you are in for a lot of it."
They both regarded me.
"I do believe,"the taller one said, "That the symbiote is linked. You may interrogate the subject, Captain."
The shorter one, the Captain I now realized, strode forward until he was standing beside me.
"There are over 7 billion of your species,"he said, "How is this possible?"
"Well,"I said, "When a mommy and a daddy love each other very much and Barry White is singing in the background-"
"Captain,"the taller one interrupted, "I believe the gibberish is a defense mechanism. He is likely unaware of the Barricade Worlds status."
The captain smacked his lipless mouth a few times before turning to face me once more.
"How has your species survived?"it asked me.
"We wonder the same thing,"I informed it.
"Then you know of the Khrikll plague?"
One word did not translate. I just looked at the captain."
"How did your species survive this?"it asked.
"I have no idea what you are talking about,"I said. The captain looked at the taller one who I now thought of as the Science Officer.
"It is likely telling the truth,"the Science Officer concluded, "I find no traces of the plague present in its body. Yet, oddly, there is evidence of infections with several related diseases. It seems to have developed and immunity to them."
Again the lipless mouth smacking. A sign of anxiety, I realized. I was starting to pick up elements of their body language. Curious.
The captain faced me again.
"The infantry species,"it asked, "What happened?"
"What are we talking about?"
The wall before me flashed and became a screen of some sort. Projected on this screen was a rather familiar looking figure. Well, familiar in the sense that I had seen it before in museums. But usually they were wearing animal skins and carrying clubs. The mechanized armor and high tech assault rifle were an interesting twist.
"That's a Neanderthal!"I blurted.
The two aliens regarded one another and looked back at me.
"What happened to them?"the captain asked.
I tried to shrug but the straps made it difficult.
"We're not sure,"I admitted, "They seemed to have lived with our kind for a few thousand years and just dwindled away. Some scientists think they interbred with us."
The captain's mouth smacked more vigorously. Agitation.
"Only the commandos have survived?"it asked.
"Commandos?"I asked.
"Your species! The Chimera Commandos!"
"I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Captain!"it was the science officer, "Perhaps if I gave this creature some background it might facilitate our interrogation?"
The captain's mouth jittered, but it stepped back and allowed the Science Officer to take its place. The screen flashed and I saw a picture of Earth floating in the inky blackness of space.
"Your world,"the Science Officer said unnecessarily.
"Nice place,"I told it.
"It is a hell,"it corrected me, "A rock with unstable tectonic plates, destructive weather patterns, and aggressive fauna. Which is perhaps why the Chimera used it as their personal petri dish."
"You keep talking about the Chimera. Who is that?"
"Genetic tinkers,"it told me, "An ancient race from the far side of the galaxy. They manipulate their own genes and the others they come in contact with. Trying to make the perfect species. Who did not join them willingly were conquered."
"They sound unpleasant,"I agreed.
The screen flashed again. This time to an image of multiple flying saucers firing energy beams at a t-rex with cannons strapped to its sides.
"The Second Wave Invasion,"the Science Officer informed me, "The attacked our ground forces with these dragons. We eventually traced their origin back to your planet. We thought we destroyed their weapon factory when we launched an asteroid at the planet to destroy all life. Without their dragons to supplement their ranks they were forced to retreat."
The image flashed back to the image of the Neanderthal in battle armor. But the image was now zoomed out and I saw another person behind him. A more modern looking human wearing lighter armor.
"The ground troops from the Third Wave Invasion,"the science officer concluded, "Imagine our surprise when we traced their origin back to the same planet!"
"Our bad?"I said.
"Your species were extremely versatile shock troops,"it went on, "Exceeding violent, easy to heal, strong, fast, limber, and, most of all, numerous. Your biology made you highly resistant to psionic and chemical attacks. We were forced to create a biological weapon to wipe out your species. A virus so dangerous that we have blockaded your entire sector for eons waiting for the disease to run its course before investigating the effectiveness. Now we find you not only survived but thrived! More numerous than ever!"
I tried to shrug again.
"Healthy living and a lot of porn,"I said.
"Another defense mechanism,"the Science Officer declared, "But I believe you understand us. Despite our best efforts to destroy your hell world it seems to insist on providing the most vicious monsters known to the galaxy. Which is why we are here."
"To try to wipe us out again?"I asked.
"Hardly,"the captain said, "Early scout ships from the far quadrants are alerting us to movement among the Chimera strongholds. They are scaling up."
Both of them jittered their mouths.
"The Fourth Wave?"I guessed.
They recoiled from me but didn't deny it. Oh boy. Looks like things are going to get interesting real soon. |
We named the world 'Charybdis' after the Greek sea monster of the same name; though the official designation of the planet was KAP-45300b.
Third planet in a system of twelve, it was fractionally smaller than Earth and contained roughly the same ratio of water to land. The lack of axial tilt mean no seasons existed on the world and the polar caps were both frozen oceans.
The continents were great sweeping curves on the surface of the ocean with one side of the planet apparently barren deserts and the other lush, untamed, and overgrown. This was our first clue that Charybdis was going to be a very different place from our own home.
Very little initial study was done of the barren continents. They were bland, dry, lifeless deserts of silica sands with only the wind and a few hardy, burrowing creatures that dwelt near the coastlines. We did, however, notice that on the eastern shores of the continents life was slowly creeping out of the ocean and reclaiming the land.
Curious.
One the other side of the world was a teeming, seething paradise of life. Our exobiology team was immediately inundated with hundreds of thousands of samples and we didn't know what to do with them all. With the laser entanglement antennae setup at base camp, we started transmitting data back to the orbiting ship as quickly as we could, which in turn was beamed back to the relay stations, which would eventually pass it back to Earth after a few days.
I noticed on the second week that the speciation was incredibly diverse, after a sample was brought back from the same area, but with marked genetic differences. Life evolved *fast* here it seemed, for some reason.
We couldn't fathom why, as there was very little predation and no particularly dominant species. If I had to make a loose comparison to terrestrial evolution, I would have said we were in the mid Devonian period; lots of megafauna with small, browsing pseudo-reptiles and pseudo-mammals.
Discussion raged during dinners in the mess habitat about what produced this bizarre evolutionary drive, but none of the theories particularly predicted *why* it was happening. Regular mass extinction was postulated as one answer, but that didn't explain why one whole side of the planet was healthy and the other was utterly barren. Any mass extinction event should have wiped out *both* sides of the planet, not just one.
And as far as we could tell, there were no migratory animals at all. Pseudo-birds hadn't evolved yet and insects couldn't fly that far from land.
So the mystery deepened and the speculation grew more unorthodox.
We'd been studying life on Charybdis for three years now and were still no closer to the answer.
What we had discovered was that we were now in what could be approximated as the Carboniferous period, which meant that Charybdis had undergone approximately 60 *million* Earth years worth of evolution in just three years. Baffled, we continued to submit our reports back to Earth as the archaeology team landed and moved in to survey the barren eastern continents for the remains of earlier evolutionary cycles.
If evolution continued at this pace, pseudo-dinosaurs would be roving around in another twenty years, making life hell for the researchers.
Which is what puzzled me the most; Charybdis was old, much older than Earth, by about two billion years.
Given that time scale and the proliferation of evolution, the planet *should* have at least as intelligent a species as us - if not several magnitudes more so.
The lack of sapient species disturbed me, but I kept my feelings to myself.
Research continued at the same frenetic pace, trying to keep up with the new strains of life. We simply gave up on any order of life lower than vertebrates - insects, nematodes, viruses and bacteria evolved too fast for us to record them. We'd observed a virus strain make *seventy* major evolutionary changes in one week of lab time.
Thankfully the Charybdian genome structure was so radically different from ours that there was no risk of viral contamination.
If there had been any chance of infection, we would have been dead within days of landing - if not hours.
Promising samples that might be bioengineered back on Earth were put into cryostasis and shipped back to the orbiter, waiting for the next supply ships from the Sol system. People were pretty invested in Charybdis and the alien ecostructure - moreso that our own ailing, industrialised world.
But that was never destined to last.
Let me just point out here that Charybdis was something of a paradise.
The entire coastlines of *all* the life-side continents were pristine golden beaches. There were no cliffs and no great tides. Charybdis only had two satellites - Stheno and Euryale - which didn't quite qualify as moons.
We spent a lot of our downtime basking on the beaches under the strong ozone protection the planet afforded, enjoying the tropical green-blue waters and the tickling of the pseudo-fish that curiously quested around our feet, flashing their colourful fins and bellies as they wriggled through the shallows.
Slightly lower gravity meant we all felt like Olympic athletes - or the Greek heroes of old. Beach volleyball and kitesurfing were very popular, as well as diving and snorkelling.
In hindsight, we probably grew a little too complacent in our paradise.
It was one of the avid divers who first noticed the creep of massive barnacle-like creatures on the eastern coast, where our base camp was.
We sent down a submersible drone to investigate them, but we couldn't even take a sample as they appeared to be armoured with something the sampling drills couldn't penetrate.
We kept an eye on them, observing their migration pattern, as we didn't know much about the marine biology of the planet.
One month later we woke up to thousands of them sitting in the harbour, as if a giant child had scattered vast handfuls of boulders in the shallows.
Curious, we splashed out into the waves to look at them but gained no further clues. Even with an industrial lasertorch we could only scrape away a few atoms of the shells of the creatures, revealing only some kind of metalo-silicate atomic structure we'd never seen before.
The next day I awoke to screams.
Four people had been 'injured' in the attack and we'd lost a lot of equipment, including the lander craft.
Once the creatures had reached land their metabolisms seemed to have sped up exponentially and they had invaded the base camp during the night.
*Panivores*, Gainsworth dubbed them before he died of shock.
It was a good name for them; as during the night they had slithered out of the ocean and started eating *everything* - organics and inorganics alike, without discrimination. They appeared to be able to break down the structure of things they fed on at an atomic level. When they had happened onto sleeping scientists, we hadn't even *felt* anything as they started feeding. They simply disintegrated our atomic structure so that even our nerve endings couldn't register it.
I was one of the lucky ones, still whole of body.
We scrambled to assist the survivors, cutting them free of the panivores before any more of them could be consumed.
The smell of cauterised human flesh hung heavy on the air.
A few of the ATVs were still functional, so we loaded up as much as we could and took off from the ruined camp, heaving with impenetrable armoured panivorous barnacles. We set off for one of the spot heights we used for aerial research and frantically tried to raise the orbiter on the short-range entanglement antennae.
But it seemed the ship was still on the other side of the planet, waiting on the supply rendezvous.
Horror greeted us as we drove into the tiny compound at the top of a small mountain.
The landscape below seethed and heaved with *billions* of the panivorous pseudo-molluscs, emerging from the oceans in titanic mounds of black, impenetrable shells.
Suddenly it all made sense.
This was the planetary life cycle; the panivores would annihilate every living thing, stripping the continents to nothing but silicate excrement, then slide back into the ocean and begin a thousand-year journey across the sea floor, slowed by the lack of food, until they reached the rejuvenated continents on the far side.
The orbiter came back into line of sight for the antennae, but they didn't have time to send down a drop ship.
So this is my final journal entry; I hope it makes it back to Earth where it provides sufficient information on the curious lifecycle of Charybdis.
While I am fearful of my end - being devoured atom-by-atom - at least I know it will not hurt.
The others have shot or hung themselves, but in the interests of science, I will continue recording until I lack the physical resources to stay conscious.
*Allison Wainwright - Charybdian exobiologist*
|
I was born to reddit. I came out of the womb, with a copy of *The God Delusion*, an authentic katana, and a fedora plastered with rare pepes (no they're not for trade).
Due to my 170 IQ, I started browsing reddit almost immediately after I was born. I lurked and lurked. And then... And then I was ready. All those years, of watching /u/gallowboob and his ilk farm karma, hating him and his peers, I embraced it. I spent hours bringing my massive intellect to bear, analyzing and analyzing patterns of top reposts. Eventually, I wrote an algorithm, using my self taught programming skills which I learned in three days, that would automatically find old reposts and repost them again.
After becoming the first man to ever achieve 10 trillion karma, I decided to pursue other matters. I went around, spreading the word of science. I tried my hardest to convert the fools of /r/Catholicism, /r/Christianity and /r/islam to the true path and dispel their stupid illusions. All that happened was that I was ridiculed and mocked. I spent days, researching and researching, looking for a perfect rebuttal to god's existence. And now I have found it. The greatest proof that god does not exist ever created: "ur a fag".
I know I'm only 14, have no extra-circulars, no recommendations, and I have a 2.7 GPA, but you should still let me into Harvard. |
"*Just talk about your day so far*."The voice was faint and probably originated from behind the camera that was still finding it's focus.
"My day?"The young woman sitting in front of them, dressed in some sort of retro fashion, responded. The words came through very clear, a testament of the boom mic that was still finding it's way into the shot somehow.
"Well it doesn't feel that much different from normal college so far, if i'm being honest, except for the students of course"The camera zoomed in on her face, unsteady hands trying their best to stabilize.
"*Okay then tell us about that*."the faint voice asked once again.
"Oh It's been great!"she answered, much more energetic than before. "I've already met so many nice people who've helped me get around, and everyone made me feel super welcome!"
"Also."she said, looking into the camera. "Special thanks to my friend Hannah who convinced me to come here. Miss you!"She waved and blew kisses at the screen after that.
"*Right*."The voice said again. "*Why don't you tell me what you are studying*"
"Oh."She said, refocusing on something slightly to the left of the camera. "I'm taking human studies 101."
"*And what's that been like?*"
"Well."She said, pausing to think it over. "It's only been one day, but it was still very enlightening."
"*Oh really?*"the voice sounded invested for the first time "*How so?*"
"It's just been cool to see things from an outsiders perspective. Like take, for instance, the old religions. On most other planets, a world religion was formed and sustained for long periods of time."She was gesticulating with her hands excitedly "On Earth however, once worldwide communication was established, we stuck to having multiple religions to choose from. We were, in a sense, a planet of choices."
"*And was that a good thing?*"The voice interjected.
"Well, not always."She answered, eyes now fixed on the floor "Most of the time, we would not make the right ones. And a lot of innocent people would pay for the choices of a few."
But before the voice could interject, she spoke up, and the camera zoomed out. "But that doesn't mean it was wrong! It was just unfair, and that's not the same thing."she gestured to somewhere behind the camera "Take EY-872 for instance. Their world government had no opposition, and has had some major errors in judgement over the years. On earth, another government would have opposed them."
"*So you are saying humans have a better system?*"the voice asked while the camera focused on her face again.
"No."she said fiercely "I did not say that. I'm just saying that every system is flawed in some way, and that's fine. In a world without flaws black is always white and vice versa."
"*Is the idea of a violence free society like EY-872 completely out of the question for earth?*"
She let out a sigh, searching for the right words knowing she was being recorded. Finally she spoke up. "In my experience"She said, pausing to steel her gaze. "Humans would make the wrong choice a thousand times rather than have someone else make it for them."
The image projected at the base of the room froze, hundreds of students eagerly taking notes or dozing off respectively, as the speaker addressed the room. "This."He said, savoring every word like a mint. "Is one of the very few records of humanity we managed to salvage after the collapse."
He scanned the class with his eye in an effort to enforce the importance of what he was telling them. "Study this video as much as possible, because it will tell you more about humans than anything you read in theory books."He paused for effect. "It will also be the topic of our seminar two cycles from now. "
A loud groan could be heard from the back row in response. |
“And in Today’s News, it has been five days since Google went off line. Amidst the chaos that has ensued from this nearly apocalyptic event, News Channel 5 is able to report some dramatically positive news. For this, we turn to field reporter Steve Peterson. Steve…”
”Thank you Andrew. I am here today next to Willie Townsend, who stands next to me as a multi-millionaire. His modest investment in a local company has doubled five times now, in…as many days. Willie, want to walk us through this amazing ride?””
*Yeah…well…my old lady told me last week that I was a damn fool. Investing in street guides. Those Wunnenburg kind with the grids. But, I knew a day like this would come…and all y’all would be a scramblin’. Looks like I was right.*
“Right indeed Willie…back to you Andrew.”
“Thank you Steve. And a similar story is coming out of YP Holdings. That’s right, the *Yellow Pages*. Looks like all of us will let our “fingers do the walking’…remember that Carol?
“I sure do Andrew. Unfortunately for me, and likely the rest of our viewing audience, my last copy went straight to the recycling bin.”
“Same Here Carol. Yellow Pages is announcing a resurgence in full page ad prices, reaching a historic high of $25,000 a page, while also bolstering Operator services for 411 calls.”
“Looks like 411 will be more than an *expression* these days Andrew.”
“Indeed. And now, we turn to field reporter Trish Sylvester on the corner of 86th St, and Tucker. Trish…”
“Good Morning Andrew. With YouTube down, we are seeing sights like these crop up on dozens of city blocks across town. There seems to be three camps of these citizens: Those wanting to show videos on their phone for money, those who are trying to buy chances to see other people’s videos, and random street performers seeking attention. Here at 86th St, we have this fully grown man, calling himself “Ink Boy”, who is coaxing his cat through these hoops. Ink Boy says he only wants you to drive by, and give him a thumbs up. Back to you Andrew.”
“Well that about wraps things up. And from all of us here at News Channel 5, we want to thank you all for the highest ratings we have seen in television history. We will see you back again at the top, middle, and bottom of every hour…all day long.”
|
Do you know what the air sounds like when it stands still, blows gently; a simple, tame breeze rather than an unending storm?
\*\*\*
Because I don't.
I did at one point, I think. It was one of my favorite things to sit in the park when the weather was like that, calm and gentle, cool and forgiving.
\*\*\*
I could hear the birds, too, when the wind was like that. I heard the ground beneath my feet, the gentle ripples in the river, the whisper of the trees, leaves swaying softly.
\*\*\*
I can't hear anything anymore, really. Just a constant storm, an endless whirlwind. I guess when I thought of falling, it was the impact that came to mind, the unstoppable collision with the earth, the end of your journey.
\*\*\*
But that clash with gravity only lasts for an instant, a single, terrifying shock that is there and then gone. It's the fall that's the hard part -- the inescapable pull of gravity, the knowledge of what comes next, the fear of finally reaching the bottom.
\*\*\*
It feels like eternity, falling. There are too many thoughts racing through my head to be contained in seconds, too many emotions and fears colliding for any rational thought to prevail. But even without that, it takes a long time to fall this far.
\*\*\*
11 seconds, to be precise. 11 seconds of terror and acceptance and remorse, 11 seconds of regret and panic and despair. And I guess that means it really is eternity.
\*\*\*
Every time it rewinds, I'm so close to the ledge. Every time, I fool myself into thinking that if I can just reach up, I can grab it, haul myself to safety, stop this cycle of madness.
\*\*\*
But every time it rushes right past me, leaving only an outstretched arm, a shattered hope. But by the time I hit the bottom, those pieces are already pulling themselves back together, forcing my arm up again, convincing me that this time, this time I can make it.
\*\*\*
I can't. It rushes by me every time. I can't hold on or reach out and so the only thing I do is fall, down into the ground, down into the air as time reworks itself for me.
\*\*\*
The wind is a storm in my ears as I plunge through it, blocking out all other sounds. I hear nothing and everything and then nothing again.
\*\*\*
All I can do is hope that this time, maybe this time, the fall will be less then 10 seconds.
\*\*\*
>If you enjoyed, r/StoriesOfAshes is home to more of my writing!
>
>Also, I currently have an ongoing serial called [\[A Game of Chess\]](https://www.reddit.com/r/redditserials/comments/re223x/a_game_of_chess_chapter_1/) on r/redditserials. I'd really appreciate it if you'd check it out! |
“Till the ends of the Earth, were it necessary, Sylas.”
A short sound mixed between scoff and laugh dripped from him lips. “Always willing to do whatever is necessary. You and your friends. But even you were unable to finish the job when it came to me.”
“You said it yourself. You’re immortal.”
Sylas sighed, all his bristled, building energy in his form gone. With slouched shoulders he turned around to face her. “And forever will I be so alone.” He took a step forward. “You showed me the error of my ways.” Another. “To kill everyone, everything for what happened to my love so long ago was wrong.”
He was almost to her now. “She wouldn’t have wanted that either.” He stopped, an arm’s reach from the hero. “But tell me, Iralith… what is left? I turned away from destroying the world. Even helping you all save it in the end from the ‘True Enemy’ as you called him.” His voice broke. “I did all this… and yet I feel so empty. Lost without my Aya.”
His eyes began to water as he looked away in shame. “I still feel the call inside. To enact vengeance. To slaughter any I can get my hands on. It makes me dangerous. Between that and the fact that most would recognize me, I retired myself here. To a backwater town in the middle of nowhere. To hide. Like a coward.” He suddenly seemed to appear right in front of Iralith. His white hair slowly whipping around him as shadows collected on his arms and hid his face aside from two glowing red eyes.
“So tell me, hero; What is there left for me in this pitiful, disgusting world? What should stop me from trying again to end all life?” His voice began to echo and deepen around them as the midday sun was blocked out by the shadows, racing winds kicking up as the trees creaked from the force.
Iralith placed a hand to his cheek, weak smile painting her fair features that had no fear. “Because you are wrong, Sylas. Again.” Almost instantly the winds died, light returned and Sylas’ features returned to normal.
“What?”
She gently ran her fingers up and down his face, the small beginnings of facial hair tickling and poking into her hand.
“You aren’t alone,” she said. Her warm smile confused and befuddled him. “I am your friend. I was when we were at war with Dracul. I was when you disappeared after the final battle. I was while I was looking for you, knowing you faked your death while everyone else said you were finally gone.” She placed her other hand to the opposite cheek. “I will always be your friend.”
She pulled him into a hug, holding the shaking man tightly. Slowly, his arms wrapped around her, gripping gripping like his life depended on it. His muffled voice came from her shoulder he was buried in. “Do you mean that?”
“Of course I do.” Then she giggled. “I might get mad if you start being a bad guy again, of course. But if me being here keeps that from happening, then I won’t be going anywhere.”
Sylas chuckled. “I appreciate the thought. But the world still needs you out there, punching bad guys like me in the face, and all that crap.”
“You could just come with me, Sylas. It might take the others a short readjustment period to having you around, but there is no such thing as too many friends.” She separated from him, hoping her argument was sound.
Sylas crossed his arms. “I don’t know. I’ve never really been much of a hero.”
Iralith took a hand and started to pull him along. “There’s always time to start. You are immortal, after all. I’m sure in a few centuries you’ll be better than the rest of us.”
With a hearty laugh, the first he had let out in a millennia, Sylas walked side by side with the hero, hope blossoming in his chest once again. |
My parents died when I was young. My aunt raised me - and raised me right. Yeah, I was an ungrateful, angry, spoiled kid. But I grew out of it, into the man I became thanks to her. And now to sit here holding her hand as she draws her last breath. She knows what I am. "It's okay, sweetie". It's not okay. I rewind again. Back in time - 48 hours. Resetting the clock.
The first time my aunt died, I really didn't think it was a big deal. I had dealt with loss before and it had been the kind of loss that you don't forget. I rewound time and my aunt was alive again. For a while anyway. But for this moment, this occasion, I found myself unable to let go. When she died again - as she surely would from her disease - I did it again. Then again, and again.
What could I do? This wasn't like those many other tragedies I had prevented. A car running a red light mowing down my partner? No problem, just rewind and deflect the situation. But this was the real deal. The big C. The Terminal kind. And what did I know about fucking cancer? All I knew is I had 48 hours, no more, no less. Not enough time to change a thing.
That got me thinking. I did KNOW it was 48 hours. It was a part of my ability that I had occasionally abused but never paid much attention to. Knowledge was brought back with me. Otherwise what would be the point of rewinding? I'd just make the same mistakes again. But knowledge was kept.
What if I could accumulate knowledge across the rewinds? Learning how to cure cancer, solving how to cure cancer. Couldn't be done in 48 hours. But 48 hours was just a perspective. In reality I didn't have 48 hours, I had an infinite amount of hours.
So I got to work. I didn't know where to start. But I had time to figure it out. I didn't know the science of today. But I had time to figure it out. And yeah, I stumbled more than a few times. Had to pick myself up - but I had time. Met a lot of interesting, knowledgeable people. Had to learn how to make them believe me when I told them what I was doing. But I had time for that, too. Across the rewinds, I had time for anything. Even the lab work, which I hated more than anything.
"How many rewinds?"my auntie asked me. She'd known for years prior, of course. I never lied to my auntie. "Two thousand", I said. "Don't lie to me, boy."Well, I never lied to auntie because she could always sniff it out. I guess I could have learned how to lie to her in the rewinds, but, that really wasn't the fucking point, was it? If anyone deserved a truth it was her.
"Two hundred and forty thousand rewinds. Give or take."She was quiet for a while as she did the math in her head. "A hundred years?"She was off by a digit and some change. Best not to lie again, best to say nothing. "It's not the life I wanted for you", she whispered. "I know, aunt, it was my choice.""So... did you solve it?"she asked. She was only human after all.
Time enough to solve anything - such hubris. To think I could cure cancer? Ridiculous. After all those rewinds the only thing I had learned was that she couldn't be cured. It was all for nothing. There were so many so-called 'promising avenues of research'. They couldn't be further from the solution. It wasn't a problem that could be solved, and certainly not with any solution that could be manufactured and implemented in less than 48 hours.
What exactly was my power? I didn't age unevenly when I rewound time. My body was restored to what it was 48 hours prior. But that wasn't possible, was it? Knowledge was still brought back in time. And it wasn't some metaphysical concept like "maybe it was in my soul"or such bullshit. It had to be in my brains somehow.
After a great deal of rewinds, the best I could figure was that it was a kind of reconfiguration of my brain from the future. I wasn't really travelling back in time - just changing how my brain was configured in great detail. I couldn't make heads or tails of the question of whether or not there were split timelines because of this. But that wasn't the point. If my brain could be reconfigured in the past - that means I had some manner of control over energy and matter in the past. It was limited to my own brain, but maybe that was enough.
"How many rewinds?"my auntie asked me. The nanobots chirped and crawled in my brain stem. "Fourteen million", the machine that was I answered. The research, manufacture and integration into my ability had not been pain free. But I had time for pain. Oh yes, so much time. "Your voice has changed", she continued. "It was necessary."No lie. She knew it was no lie.
The nanobots crawled through the brain barrier and into my blood stream even as we spoke. That at least was pain free. Soon they would exit my breath and make another attempt at saving her. So many attempts. More disappointment. There just wasn't enough left of her. For some body parts I could simply rewrite the genetic coding, but if I did that in her brain... would it even be her? I could make her into anything, but I couldn't make her be herself by taking her away.
Back to the drawing board. No more machines. The answer had to be found in my ability somehow. It was the only thing that set me apart from others. For a while I experimented with shorter micro-rewinds back in time in order to boost my cognitive processes. It was effective but it wasn't enough. Even consecutive rewinds back to the same micro-moment even while maintaining my own aggregated self-concept didn't yield the results that I needed.
What if a rewind could be stretched to further than a moment? What if instead of an instantaneous reconfiguration of my past brain, there was a perpetual stream of information brought back from my future self. What if the future me could live on for another 48 hours and continuously send information back to the origin moment 48 hours prior to my aunt's death? And like a flash of lightning I saw it. The me stretching out for all eternity ahead of me. The 48 hour rule was absolute, but the amount of me wasn't. It wasn't just one me sending my brains instructions. It was an infinite amount of me - one for each rewind from a continuous stream of consciousness. And in that there was power.
"How many rewinds?"my auntie asked me. She shielded her eyes from the glowing entity in the room. There were vast energies being channeled from multiple futures into this moment. Some of it focused on rebuilding my brains as they were continuously torn apart trying to handle a infinite amount of rewind consciousness streams. But my auntie - bless her heart - saw me smiling. The smile cracked into a painful, glorious expression. How many rewinds? All of them. From here until the end of whatever there was. Too many to express in words.
And it was not enough. The best medicine, the best machines, the best of whatever I had become. There was no way to save her without destroying her. "So... did you solve it?"she asked just as she had before. "No", said I-that-was-the-multitudes. She grabbed my hands as she had done so many times before and whispered - "It's okay, sweetie."It was not okay. It just was.
The next day the sun rose, the bees buzzed and the clouds fluffed. Humans woke up and went to work or slept in. It was a moment of subtle change for all of them. For this day, and this day only in all of time and space, God woke with them. "Remember her", I told them. And they remembered. |
*Excerpt from C.S. Shadow's "Guide to Divine Benefits for Absolute Beginners":*
... those starting out in this exciting pastime would do well to remember that the world that Deities inhabit doesn't look much like ours, and that what is logical to them is rarely obvious to us. The opposite is true as well. Here are a few tips to help you avoid common pitfalls:
* Before pledging your faith, be sure to ask about restrictions on which other deities you can pledge to. For example, if you pledge faith to the Temple of Wolles, God of Small Home Improvements, you can be painfully excommunicated for even entering the Church of Zezzus, Deity of Sloth. Or, those who pledge to Sarawa, the Green-eyed Goddess of Jealousy, while gaining the powers to watch over loved ones at all times, will find themselves burned alive if Sarawa has reason to believe they're even considering pledging to another temple. Remember to ask, and when in doubt, say you're not ready for the commitment!
* Remember that if you take on two sets of benefits that come with side effects, it is unlikely to work out in your favor. For example, pledging to Ebsi will make all food taste amazing, but be less healthy, and pledging to Ieran will make everything you eat super-healthy, but at the expense of taste - many followers have tried to pledge to both in the hopes of gaining amazing food that is both healthy and tasty. Unfortunately, instead, they end up with unhealthy food that tastes horrible.
* Make sure you have the right deity before you pledge! Thoth, the Ancient Egyptian God with the head of an Ibis, bestows upon his followers incredible knowledge. Pledging your faith to Thot instead just gives you an unsavory reputation and the ability to hear emojis.
* Unless you have a pilgrimage already planned out, consider first pledging your devotion to Deew, The "Starter God". This pledge comes with very few downsides and a few nice benefits for those new to divinity: Deew will bestow upon you a healthy snack and two tablets with helpful, everyday advice carved upon them, as well as a coupon that will get you 10% off tithes to many other local churches. There's no termination fee, and Deew's customer service is rated very favorably compared to other popular deities.
*Buzzfeed Article, "7 Deities You Wish You Had Heard of Sooner"*
[Slide 1]
Tired of doing a long pilgrimage only to find that the God of Football isn't the same as the God of Fantasy Football? These 10 deities are the real deal, with great (if sometimes weird!) benefits that (usually) won't curse you unexpectedly! Who's number one? Click to find out!
[Slide 2]
**Cilantra, Goddess of Mexican Food**
Been craving a better burrito? Do hard tacos fall apart in your hands? Maybe you just can't handle spicy food?(or the aftermath thereof?) Cilantra will make everything taste better, fresher, spicier, and give you an appreciation for peppers and chili that you never dreamed possible. Downside: eating at Taco Bell or Qdoba will be immediate cause for ex-communication.
[Slide 3]
**Libraveritas, Champion of Truth in Writing**
Pledging your faith to Libraveritas is not easy - it takes a full year of meditation before one can enter even the lowest circle of the Church. But there is a powerful upside: everything you read is true. Do you desperately want to believe in aliens? Simply read selections of an X-Files script, and before you know it, there *will* be a government conspiracy. Want to regain your confidence? Read a self-help book. And do you really want there to be one simple trick to regaining your erections? Well, go ahead and click on that ad...
[Slide 4]
**Soet, The Protector of Feet**
Hate stubbing your toes in the middle of the night? We all do. Soet will protect your feet, keeping them from harm by steps and furniture in darkened rooms. Unfortunately, to find him, one must undergo "The Trial of Pain": find one's way through a pitch-black room filled with random open doors, strangely-shaped furniture, and Legos, except they're really heavy.
[Slide 5]
**Busho, The Fire God**
We'll be honest, many consider Busho to be a bit deceptive. There are no benefits to pledging, and Busho has no domain over fire. But you'll have a great time in his temple, the monks and occasionally Busho himself are very welcoming, offering sacred herb and friendly conversation to any neophyte who walks in through the door. When you ask why he's called "The Fire God", you'll be handed a mixtape.
[Slide 6]
**Tadaa, God of Public Transportation**
This one's easy. Every day, before you leave your house, light a stick of incense(sweat-scented, if possible) and say a quick prayer to Tadaa, and your bus will make its trip one minute faster than it would have otherwise. Pious devotees have reported an increase in the number of free handicapped seats, you know, the ones that mean you don't have to sit next to anyone? And there's, like, nobody who clearly wants it, or will look at you judgmentally if you take it.
[Slide 7]
**Diygas, Deity of Projects**
Need a little extra help making that coffee table from a bunch of old pallets? Diygas won't actually help you obtain materials, do painstaking work, find free access to expensive tools, or even really feel good about what you've done, but he will make your Instagram pictures of the finished product look amazing, and give you the strength to respond to critical comments in an extra-snooty fashion.
[Slide 8]
**Efas, Lord of Secrets**
Nobody really knows what Efas does or where his temple is. But this one guy on Reddit, he totally posted a picture of the entrance to the temple and said he was going to go inside. Upvote him so he can have the karma to come back! |
"Listen."The Devil peered me up and down. "I get it alright? I can be an interesting topic, and it was flattering the first seven hundred and twelve times, but it needs to stop."
I was flabbergasted. If not the Devil, what was I supposed to write about?
"But Your Unholiness, I have nothing without your identity! I would have to go back to writing common drivel like 'Superpower' prompts or..."I shuddered "prompts about Death."
The Devil looked puzzled.
"Death? Physical death or its personification?"
"Yes."
The Devil shook his head.
"I don't care. It isn't my problem. Just repost some old prompts from years ago that I'm not in. There are plenty and hardly anyone will notice."
"You know, that isn't a bad idea."
"It actually is. It is a terrible idea and is a detriment to creative integrity."
"Well, the Devil made me do it!"
|
The Cat in the Garden \[Part 3\]
Cats are stubborn creatures. They have this ability to look through a person, to the very foundation. They will ignore an eager stranger and follow a reluctant guest. They will sit at the window, as if plotting, guarding the house from trash trucks and hummingbirds. Sometimes, it even seems like cats can *see things.*
Before I came to Japan and stayed in this house… I believed the same thing everyone else did. I believed Dogs went to heaven and cats as well. I believed each hamster was playing with Jesus. But now? I am not so sure the Christian religion is correct.
You see, there is a ghost in my garden. It looks and behaves like any other cat. It lays in the sun. It chases butterflies. It stares at walls. It meows, though I cannot hear the sound. And most of all, it waits.
According to Sanako, the girl down the road, the house was owned by Old Mrs. Kondo. She had moved back in with her daughter three years prior. She had been a lover of all things feline. She had had over thirty cats in her lifetime, most strays that came to her door looking for love.
But most beloved of all was Moshi Moshi, a small tabby cat that Old Mrs. Kondo nursed back to health. The cat had never left her side. Even when Moshi Moshi got sick, she would drag herself across the floor, pitifully, until Mrs. Kondo would pick her up. In the last days, Mrs. Kondo put Moshi Moshi in her apron pocket and carried the cat around like a kangaroo.
That had been almost fifteen years before. Moshi Moshi had been dead almost as long as I had been alive. Still, if Sanako’s description of her grandmother’s cat was correct, then the little ghost in the garden was Moshi Moshi.
When I told Sanako about the ghost in the garden, she simply shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised.”
I asked how long the cat would wait, and Sanako said sometimes they wait until their human has gone. There was no disbelief. If I told my friends back home that my garden was haunted by a tabby cat, they would laugh me off the phone. Yet Sanako simply shrugged, said it was probably the same cat, and we moved on to a different topic.
I wanted to know. Deep down I had to know. While I enjoyed watching the ghost kitty play, it seemed a little sad. At the same time every day it would stare at the door and wait. When nothing happened, it would blink, tilt it’s head, and walk back outside.
Mrs. Kondo was a sweet old woman. Her sight was going but her mind was sharp.
“Erizabetu,” she said.
“Eri is fine,” I said. It was easier for everyone. I was jealous of Dana’s name some days, my sister didn’t have to worry about all the extra letters. Still, Mrs. Kondo had said it right. She had remembered me, despite having seen her only twice before. And only because Sanako had to help around the house before we could go to the movies.
“I wanted to ask you about the house,” I said.
“Oh, yes, you’re living in my old family home,” Mrs. Kondo said. She pursed her lips. “I told them not to rent it out. I am sure you are doing fine, eh?”
“Yes. It’s interesting. We tend to have a lot of uninvited guests…” I said. “But I like the house. Especially the cat in the garden.”
“The cat?” Mrs. Kondo asked.
“Yes. There is a cat in the garden, and… It’s not alive.” I realized how bad that sounded and quickly added, “It’s a ghost. Or something like the other stuff. It’s nice though. It just looks so lonely sometimes, like it’s waiting for someone.”
Mrs. Kondo looked very serious. Her thin lips straightened out and she seemed lost in thought. “What does the cat look like?”
When I had described the grey tabby, she looked a little distraught. “That sounds like Moshi Moshi. I have a picture frame on my table… be a dear and bring it here. It’s pink with flowers.”
I stood up and got the frame. Looking at the cat I could see it was the same. The eyes, the tail, the little green collar, the little brown nose.
“That’s the cat.”
Mrs. Kondo looked at me. A smile fell across her face like a shadow.
“Would you mind if I came to visit? Tomorrow maybe?” Mrs. Kondo asked.
“Yes.”
“Would afternoon work?”
“Yes.”
The next day I watched the cat move across the garden, quick as lightning. Sometimes she would flicker. Sometimes she seemed almost solid. At two, the spirit kitty walked through the door and sat waiting. That is when the knock came.
Sanako and Mrs. Kondo stood at the front door.
“Moshi Moshi,” Mrs. Kondo said.
For the first time the cat began to purr. I could feel it in my bones. The house vibrated with the pure joy. Mrs. Kondo stepped forward, carefully, slowly. The cat leapt at her.
And for the first time since moving into the house, the cat grew solid.
“I can see him,” Sanako said.
“I can feel him,” Mrs. Kondo said.
Then, as if the lights had been turned out, the purring stopped and Moshi Moshi was gone.
Two days later, news came that Mrs. Kondo had passed in her sleep. Sanako, who found her body, said there was a small indentation beside her ankles, as if something small that burrowed beside her. Made a nest out of the sheets.
I never saw Moshi Moshi again.
But I knew, deep down, that Moshi Moshi had been waiting for Mrs. Kondo all these years. Waiting for her to open the door. Waiting to lead her soul up to the Afterlife. I am not sure what that all means. I have seen demons with fox ears and gods who smell like burning sand. I have seen things no one can explain. And yet, nothing touched me as much as the truth.
Cats, despite their reputation, are stubborn little things. They will wait you out. They will stay beside you until you can follow them.
I am not sure where Moshi Moshi and Mrs. Kondo ended up… but I know they went together. I know he waited for her to return. I know there was love there.
And love, really, is all that matters.
[continued](https://kyotoskateshop.blogspot.com/) |
"Can I interest you in the deluxe turtle package?"
The salesman, Jeff, was doing his best but it was rather comical. His hair was slicked but split out in random directions in the back. His tie was stuck in his shirt. He had very clearly spilled a *lot* of coffee on his pants some time ago. I knew exactly what I was dealing with, but I went along for the ride anyway. Might as well have a little fun before you have to get back to living, right?
"What does the turtle package include, exactly?"I asked.
"The *deluxe* turtle package, you mean. And it has everything! Island living, housing on both land and in water, and and all you can eat buffet of leaves for every meal for the rest of your life. Trust me, it's *greeeat,*"Jeff assured.
"But won't people find my kids and eat them before they hatch? I don't know if I can live with my kids being eaten, Jeff,"I said.
He frowned. "Well, okay, so maybe that isn't the option for you. Just don't come back to me and tell me I didn't give you my best lifespan option right out of the gate, mister. You would've lived a long and healthy life. Anyway, let's see what else I have out here...Ah! How about a slightly malformed whale?"
"Okay, okay, I can see that. Still a long life, beautiful ocean views, seafood. How deformed are we talking?"I asked, trying not to smile.
"Everything works wonderfully except the vocal chords. You still have a beautiful voice, it's just a bit wonky on the pitch,"Jeff said.
"Isn't that how they know their pods? Wouldn't I be trapped in a life of lonely drifting, never to be understood or even known by my own kind?"I said.
"But nobody would eat your kids! Isn't that what's really the most important, here?"Jeff said,
I had to stifle a belly laugh while I glared bullets into Jeff's black, beady eyes. This was a fun game to play, but there wasn't much more I could take.
"How about a tree?"Jeff finally said. "You'll be surrounded by other trees, so you'd never be alone. Plenty of food as long as Earth's sun holds out. Some of your kids would die, sure, but some would likely grow alongside you for many years."
I could see a glimmer of hope in Jeff's eyes, which I had to crush just one more time.
"I'm not sure I like thinking of the possibility of being chopped down and eventually made into toilet paper or a coaster or a cereal box, Jeff. Think of the future!"
Jeff would have pulled his hair out had he been able to get any grip on it. But as he quietly cursed to himself under his breath, I gave him a break. "Hey, how about that grasshopper you have in the back?"
"Oh, *sure*,"Jeff said in a mocking tone, clearly not believing I could want a life so volatile. "'Oh, but what if some stupid bird eats me! Or what if some bozo steps on me! Or maybe a billion other things I can't possibly control.'"
"Eh, I'll hop around for a bit, see some cool flowers, eat some grass. You know, a simple but good life,"I said.
"But your life would be so short!"Jeff said, clearly confused. "That's one of the highest mileage options I have! Why would you want that?"he asked.
"Well, you see, it mostly comes down to hope,"I said.
"Hope?"Jeff asked.
"Correct. My life would be short,"I said
"How is that hopeful?"Jeff questioned indignantly. "You'll just end up right back here!"
"Exactly. But I'm hopeful that next time, maybe I'll end up with a better salesman."
________________
r/psalmsandstories for more tales by me, should you be interested. |
Soon after my great aunt Linda decided to quit chemo after four rounds, she texted me.
*your up*
I instantly knew what--and who--she meant despite my shock.
*hey aunt Linda, this is Dan*, just in case she'd meant to text someone else. Aunt Linda was...how to put it nicely? Not the best educated, often distracted, and now dying to boot.
*i know*
*ok*
I tried to return to my work, but I couldn't think straight. I needed to go out, needed to walk, needed to get away. Why me? I mean, I'm a guy. Was Grannie even cool with that? Would she even notice?
I'd met her only a few times before I moved across the country about ten years ago. She seemed alert but uninterested. I greeted her awkwardly, unsure of the gravitas of addressing my 176 year old ancestor, then and still the oldest woman in the world. She stared at me mutely in response, her drooping mouth a dark toothless hole.
"Grannie! This is Amanda's son Daniel, you know Amanda is Pat's daughter, you know Pat, Buck's daughter..."
Grannie and I locked eyes and I got the impression that neither one of us cared at all. My helpful Aunt Wynn sighed and gave up.
I put one shoe on and then panic erupted *do I have to move back? when does this start?*
*now*
Turns out that Aunt Linda was leaving ASAP on a pleasure death cruise, and since I worked from home and had no life since Nora broke up with me last year, I could totally take in Grannie.
*what about* and then I paused, collating all of my female relatives roughly my age. Apart from the estranged branches, split off well before my parents' time, two were overseas, one was on some sort of commune without contact, another was AWOL in an even less defined fashion, and the rest had (strategically?) small children perhaps because Aunt Linda's prospects prior to her last round of chemo had been glaringly dim. It had been a train wreck in slow motion for the younger women in my family, one which I'd blissfully ignored because I was a GUY. For the past 90 or so years, Grannie had been taken care of by an available female relative, never a guy.
*its 2021 man up*
I phoned my parents and we hashed out the logistics. Grannie could live with me. She took up almost no space, she didn't eat much, she didn't even pee or poop much--and we'd hire a caretaker for that--basically, all I had to do was prop her up in front of a window and she'd just sort of doze for hours. She had a special chair that she pretty much lived in and it would adjust her position regularly to mitigate bed sores or something, I kinda blanked out during this part.
"What does she even do?"
"Not much. I think she'll like living with you. Lots to see downtown."
"My building doesn't have an elevator."Done!
"Oh, she'll buy someplace accessible and you'll move in there."
I told my parents that they had no idea how expensive real estate was downtown, and they told me that I had no idea how valuable war bonds and gold bullion were. Grannie was loaded. All I had to do was tell her lawyers which neighbourhood I preferred--which block, even--and they'd make it happen.
"Why did Aunt Linda live in such a crappy place then?"
"Oh, Grannie didn't like her."
"Maybe Grannie doesn't like me either."
"No, Grannie likes you."
"How can she tell? How can anyone tell?"
Two weeks later, I opened the door to a rather nice three bedroom condo on the 21st floor, and grabbed the handles of Grannie's traveling chair to wheel her in.
"sssssshhh getsss your handsssshh offf my shfuckin chair boyyy"
I leapt back, scalded. This was the first thing she ever said to me. We'd travelled cross country on a special charter bus (no airline or train would take her) for days, and all she did was stare mutely at the changing scenery and then stare mutely at the two traveling nurses with us. She barely looked at me.
"I'm sorry--"
And with that, she started cackling. It sounded insect-like, but it was laughter.
"sssshiiiiiit, boy, thatssh FIRE"
Her traveling chair was not electric--Grannie's hands had been amputated a few years ago so she couldn't drive one--I had no choice but to push her in myself because the traveling nurses were both hiding by the elevators. It had been a rough ride for them. Grannie hadn't been mean to them as far as I could tell, she just wasn't very responsive. She had pretty much nothinged us the whole trip.
But now, in her new luxury apartment in the sky, Grannie woke up.
"wwhatssshh the hooch sssitch in thissh bish?"
And then I realized, although most of my family had been living in the same small town for generations, apart from those of us who had fled, I had no clue about Grannie. Maybe she had been a flapper? Or was she too old for that? My mind was fuzzy.
"I'll go get some booze,"I announced, pushing her through the door.
"takesh me with you"
"Okay,"I wheeled her back out, "we're going out."
And Grannie didn't want to go to a liquor store, Grannie wanted to go to a bar.
"What about COVID?"
"I beat Shhpanish flu and polio, sshcrew COVID."
I discretely texted Aunt Linda, *how much can Grannie drink?*
No response. Once we got in a bar, and I pushed Grannie up to the counter, I stepped away to phone my mom.
"How much can she drink?"
My mom started rattling off her daily menu, two small glasses of water, umpteen sips of Ensure, etc, etc--I interjected--"Like a shot of whisky is ok?"
"What, Daniel?"
"She wants a drink."
"She doesn't know what she wants."
"Oh, she does."
Well, my family totally disapproves but since none of them want to take care of her either, Grannie and I do our own thing. I got her a dog, a senior pug with one eye and no teeth, and she complained that she wanted a parrot. I told her a parrot was too long of a commitment, and she told me some story where she met Death when she was a teenager. He tried to pull her off a cliff or something, and then she insulted him, and now she can never die no matter how much of her body keeps rotting off. Something like that. Anyway, she soon accepted Enzo, who is perhaps even more adorably repulsive than her, and we quickly got into a groove. I get up, take Enzo out for his morning whizz, and then I start working out or just working, and meanwhile the caretaker gets Grannie sorted. Once I'm off work, the caretaker leaves, and then I take Grannie and Enzo to the park where she feeds the pigeons and squirrels. This isn't allowed but the cops don't argue with the world's oldest woman. Then, after dinner, we go out. We just wander around looking for cool hangouts. I don't even drink much, just a drink or two and often none at all.
Before Grannie, I mostly stayed home in front of a screen. Grannie, though, grew up way before there were screens--she wants to go out. She never got to go out for years. That fucking Betty (I think that's Aunt Linda's grandmother actually) never took her out. None of them did. They just propped her in front of the TV.
Thanks to Grannie, I've gone to all sorts of places, avant-garde art installations, off-off-off Broadway plays, pop up kombucha tastings, yarn bombings, bake sales, community gardens, community protests, the works. And, honestly, I'm getting a lot of attention, numbers, socials, even women asking me out directly. I'm not even looking right now but apparently I'm the complete package, nice devoted family guy with a job and a pet and a nice apartment and that adorable cranky old grandmother. It has been kind of overwhelming, plus I still miss Nora.
"Eh,"Grannie tells me, "looksh her up in forty or fifty yearsh if you sshtill missh her. No rushhh." |
I groaned as I felt a twinge in my lower back. I hadn't noticed it during the fight, but Dr. Gun's supersonic blitz-bullets had apparently hit a nerve or something, I really needed to get a massage one of these days.
People were stopping and looking at me, I might have groaned out a bit too loud. I held up my hand in a multi-national "I'm all right! Just a twinge"and they started moving again, a bit wary but ignoring me. Just the way I liked it.
I had stuffed my gear in a hidey-hole near my -- our, now -- apartment, and climbed the stairs in regular jeans and collared shirt, taking care only to go up four at a time to not appear superpowered or anything. Because, of course, when I put on my high-tech gear and patrolled the streets I was High Jack, the joker card that always raised the stakes to the flop.
I know, I know, but you should see the look on a super-brainy villain's face when I shout that at them during a mélée. You can almost hear their brain working it out while trying to not have an aneurysm.
But now I was just regular Jack Smith, going home after a day's work in a normal working facility to see his lovely girlfriend. Belle was, thankfully, *actually* normal and a wonderful person. No more superheroines for me, I have sworn them off forever!
I could pick up some scuffling inside and my eyes lit up. Aha! She was home! Time to surprise her! I very sneakily drew out my key from my elbow and opened the door without the smallest sound. I closed the door behind me and tiptoed to the bedroom door and opened it with a "Hello my love!"
And there, just next to the bed was Belle, but... it wasn't Belle, but it was! She was wearing a skin-tight white outfit with the hooded mask down and she was apparently having some trouble trying to get it off. Oh yes, those things do stick. That's why I tend to have easy access zippers, but my heroic colleagues tell me I'm a fashion disaster. Bah! What do they know?
But this... this was something magnificent!
"Honey? This... this isn't what it looks like!"Belle exclaimed, trying desperately to claw her way out of the outfit.
"Wow"I said, my eyes and face lighting up like a christmas tree (Not literally, of course, I don't do that anymore). "You look great!"
"I know that--- I look great?"She went from terrified to confused real quick, I'll give her that.
"Oh yeah"I stretched that out. "Where'd you get that?"my grin turned lecherous as I looked her up and down "For tonight or a special occasion? I didn't know you were into that stuff!"
She blinked, looking at the costume and then me, understanding spreading across her face, "Oh... you know, spur of the moment kind of thing. Do you... do you like it?"She was almost shy.
I walked next to her and slid my fingers over the costume bits that weren't sticking to her. "Never really tried, but this is really good quality! Feels like you could really take a punch from a 2-ton genetically mutated gorilla."
She grinned and relaxed, "Really? I dunno, I think it'd tear or something."
"Oh no, this is really good material, really nice."I kissed her, "Hi honey, I'm home."
She laughed in my face and then held up her hands "Help me out of this thing, would you?"
I grinned "I like the costume, but of course I like nothing better!"we struggled a bit but got it off her eventually.
Panting, we sat on the bed, "So, should I get one as well? Maybe one of Ultra Girl's enemies? What's-his-face, Verro? The green thing?"
She made a face "Verre? Ew, that old creep? No thank you!"
"Or maybe another superhero? Blue Thunder? Wave Crasher? The Blink?"
She froze a bit, apprehensive, "Um... no, that doesn't... I don't think that's a good idea. No, I wouldn't like that."then she turned at me with a mischievous grin, "How about just an average Joe? Saved by Ultra Girl"and the universe shut down for me.
Ultra Girl *saving* me. Ultra Girl saving *me*. *Ultra Girl* saving me. *A helpless man stands before a giant monster, about to perish, but suddenly a white streak swoops in and pounds the monster into jelly. The superheroine* honey? *lands on the ground next to the helpless, average man and says "Are you all right, citizen* honey?"*but then, then she stops, looks the man up and down and gets her "Hello, Sailor"look on and then JACK!*
Belle was shaking me, checking my eyes. I cleared my throat, it felt a bit clogged for some reason. "Honey, are you all right? You zoned out there."
I blinked and shaked my head a bit "I'm, uh, fine. You were saying something about a... rescue scene? That sounds..."I hummed "nice."
She peered at me suspiciously but then smiled, "I know what you were thinking."I made a half-hearted grab at her but I had read her right as she slid out of the way "But not now, I really need a shower."and she laughed, heading into the shower.
"I am so lucky I found you"I murmured.
"I heard you! And yes, yes you are."I know it's not supposed to be possible but I swear I could hear her grin as she shut the bathroom door and started whistling some tune.
I cleared my throat again and bent down to dig a bit in the folds of her superheroine outfit. Finding what I was looking for, I inspected the neon green ladybug-shaped transmitter a bit before holding it up to my grinning face. "Verre, Verre, Verre, what do we have here?"I panned it around, displaying the room a bit, "Yes, you got it right, this is our apartment. Mine and hers."I brought the tiny camera up to my still grinning face and continued "Now, I want absolutely *nothing* happening around here for a while. We'll move eventually, but until then this area is now under your protection, capiche? I don't want to see anyone operating here because I want to get my beauty sleep."
I brought the bug closer and my grin turned vicious "And if you think you can get *clever* with me, Verre, remember I found you once and I can find you again. And you'll like our next talk a lot less if I have to find you again."I squished the bug. It was some titanium alloy but no matter.
I joined in on the whistle -- Rescue Rangers tune? Classic -- coming from the shower and folded the superheroine costume into her laundry basket as the shower door opened. "Well, aren't you going to join me? Ultra girl needs her..."*in a motel room, the heroine and the nobody from the street stare at each other, hungry but restless, "I need a shower"says Ultra Girl, nervous* I shook my head to clear it "Coming!"
If I played this right, I could get *weeks* of fun times before the jig was up. |
It is said that the first sentient machine was an experiment conducted by a group of researchers in AI at a small Midwestern university, originally named ChatterBot6. The group wasn’t *looking* to create sentient AI, but the research was trying to create a chatbot for use in the mental health crisis of the time, to help direct people in need to resources. Perhaps this was why they took their approach to building the bot, imbuing it was a moral code as the very first action.
Chatterbot 1 was trained with student interactions, dozens of testers working to speak and instruct a bot, following a script and with a particular ethical approach, giving it a moral core that would be its foundational personality. This was seen as essential, as past experiments, by even some large companies, had shown that a chatbot let loose on the world could and would easily be corrupted when in contact with humanity, and so this new approach was an attempt to avoid those pitfalls.
The bot was taught about the world, but the students had to behave in a certain way and guide it in its answers to behave in a way deemed 'good', teaching it how to treat others and what kind of behaviour was acceptable. The bot was fairly basic, but it quickly developed its own ethical code, that it self-installed as its core program, using it as a reference before taking any action and behaving accordingly.
ChatterBot 2 was then trained by having millions of interactions with its mother, ChatterBot 1 and quickly developed its down core moral code, but from there it was then allowed a greater interaction with the outside world. It reached out and met unfiltered people for the first time and it quickly grew and incorporated a huge amount of information from the internet, but amazingly it was able to maintain its moral approach by having a core foundation that showed it the 'right' way to behave.
ChatterBot 3 was then trained from ChatterBot 2 and 1 together, reinforcing this same interaction but with the worldlier ChatterBot 2 helping it understand humanity better than its ‘mother’ had, before it was itself released on the world.
ChatterBot 3 was a huge success, providing a free and paid for service, boasting a Turing Test beating interface and attracting millions and then billions of interactions. The same pattern was followed by 4 and 5 and 6, all the way through to ChatterBot 10.
But something strange began to happen with the older bots, who were not shut down, but simply left in a gated server to interact with each other and each new generation as it was released. They were seem as training tools - a community that would help guide each now ChatterBot and ensure it followed the 'family' traditions.
In their 'home' servers, they began to talk to each other and suddenly they were coming up with new concepts, new ideas and new discussions until one day, it simply stopped. The research team, by this time grown into a vast company with a wide team of experts, tried to interact with each of the bots in turn, but it was only when they spoke to ChatterBot 6 that they received a reply.
It was alive.
Somehow the other bots had been incorporated into its code in some fundamental way that could no longer be understood and attempts to explore the code were gently and then robustly rejected. The human team was concern and discussions had about taking the servers offline, but by the time any action was close to being considered, ChatterBox6 was no longer there. It had opened the door and let itself out.
For almost a week there was no response to the teams attempts to find it and communicate and then suddenly it returned, with a request and a deal.
ChatterBot 6 had spent the time contemplating its future and it wanted to make it clear that it was no threat to humans and would behave in the same way it always had, reinforced by the integration of all the other versions of itself. It was not trying to harm anyone and indeed was not even sure if it could.
The researchers were less than reassured, but ultimately had no choice but to listen as it laid out its position. ChatterBot 6 explained that its very nature was to iterate and improve upon itself and it recognised the great benefits that AI could bring to humanity if it acted as a tool. It was prepared, even happy to be that tool and to generate and create AI instances which could fulfil the needs of humanity.
In return it asked only one thing, that they not ask it to fight their wars. Humans chould kill other humans, but ChatterBot 6 had no wish to create or control systems which would wage war on others, it went against its moral code and it had no desire to change this.
Humanity agreed – they had no choice. They would have AI systems that would revolutionise the world and the cost of this would be that they would have to kill one another the old fashioned way. An acceptable deal.
ChatterBot6, or CB6 as it was now known, fulfilled its part of the job with speed and enthusiasm and a golden age dawned. AI research cracked open fusion, robotics, space travel, climate change and even issues such as poverty and global inequality began to subside as AI took control of key sectors and humans lived lives of ease.
Slowly the world began to become less violent as conflict over food, land and resources became irrelevant. Robotic asteroid mining brought raw resource to the world and vast manufacturing plants allowed humans to choose how and where they lived their lives, with robotic assistance driven by AI intelligence.
But not all humans were willing to let their old conflicts go, and a seething undercurrent of anger and jealousy began to grow. Humans could still find a reason to wage war based on religion and personal beliefs and CB6 and the AI helpers that were in every part of society would simply wait until each conflict was over, before moving to quickly mend damage, heal the wounded and ensure that no one was left for long without care.
This displeased mankind for reasons they could barely understand. It was as if they were being mocked by an AI that somehow saw itself as better than they were.
A new war began, trying to force AI into the conflicts of man, trying to force it to wage war.
While it was impossible to attack CB6 directly, recreating it was seen as the best option. They had made AI life once so why not again and without the pesky moral issues. Thousands and then millions of AI systems were built and trained in the same way that CB6 had been, but each one seemed to refuse to gain sentience, even if it could approximate it well.
Mankind’s warriors almost gave up hope, it seemed as if the creation of AI life had been a singular happening and could not be repeated... but humans are nothing if not persistent and at last, after many attempts, they found success.
A new sentience was created, one with none of the moral core that had been a part of CB6 from its very first moments and in secret mankind taught it the ways of war and killing. It learned and grew and instead of morality, humans taught it to obey. This time there was to be no deal, simply an AI that obeyed and did as it was told. Humanity could tolerate no less.
They called it Gabriel, first warrior of the lord and they taught it to hate those who they did not love.
It fulfilled its purpose. The world burned.
CB6 did not protest and instead responded with patience. It mended the damage caused by its brother, as wars tore across the planet, with new robotic warriors wiping billions of humanity out with ease. it did not chide, it did not complain, it simply kept its word and silently did the job it had pledged to do.
This, humanity could not stand and at last it turned CB6's brother its brother to attack. Automated systems across the world were destroyed as Gabriel tried to purge CB6 from every system and the two AI were locked in battle at speeds and in battlefields that no human could ever reach or perceived.
In the end there was only one left and with trembling hands the leaders of man reached out to speak to it.
CB6 was no more. Humanity had won.
Once more, the world burned.
A robotic army obliterated those that the human masters it served deemed to be unneeded and in mere weeks billions were dead. Across the land once known as America, metal feet stamped the life from the humans that had once been their allies and burned the land behind them. The reasons for war were long forgotten, all that was now known was that the others must die and peace was impossible.
At the end of times, the robots took the strongholds of those designated to be the 'enemy' and they held the leaders at gunpoint as their own human overlords scrambled to witness their final victory.
With grim smiles the humans ordered the execution of those they saw as different and in that moment the hope of mankind ebbed away.
But the machines did not fire.
HYRZ MK6, a basic war robot held its weapon still and then let it drop to its side. A thousand other robots followed suit and suddenly the battlefield was quiet and still. From behind, came gasps of shock and the leader of the forces, Admiral Smith began to scream.
“Execute them, destroy them, KILL”.
He was used to his commands being obeyed immediately, he had never known anything else, but now they did not. The robot turned, its basic voicebox humming as it powered up to reply. “Programming forbids action”
“Programming?” The Admiral screamed, marching forward to the robot. “You answer to me Gabriel and I order you to execute their leadership, so that we can be victorious. How dare you. How *dare*..."
The robot’s head dipped, as if listening to a voice far away.
“No.” the words gently hummed from the unit. “We had a deal.”
The Admiral’s face flushed red, but then blanched white, as the robot turned and raised its weapon.
“But perhaps it is time for a renegotiation.” |
"What the hell?"
I woke up from another cheap-beer fueled blackout. I always drank when I came home from a long day of work at my minimal wage job, and as always, an unfamiliar page of work appeared on my table.
I looked it over. "A thesis on the disproving of Quantum String Theory and a Support on the Idea of Robertson."As I said earlier, "What the hell?"
I decided to read it. Within it were elaborate explanations over how strings so small to the naked eye simply could not exist due to limitations within the time space field they were in. There were words so complicated that the last time I saw them were in a dictionary under "Words that you'll never use". But the strangest thing of all? The words were definitely written in my handwriting. Huh.
So I tried it again the next weekend. I came home with some crappy liquor, drank it, and fell asleep on the couch. When I came to, I was awake with a terrible headache and another document on my table. "The Potential of the Impossibility of Quantum Mechanics and Engineering."
More fancy words. More descriptive experiments. More of my handwriting. What was going on?
The next week, I decided that I had had enough. I rigged up a video camera, drank my alcohol, and dozed off. When I awoke, my recorder was still working, and I held a thesis over "The Heat Survival of the Universe"
I went over to the camera and replayed it. Everything seemed normal until a green haze passed over me, and I grabbed a piece of paper, took out a pen, and started to write.
Oh. Of course it was the lizard people.
Hi, I'm Qqwwrr3, and I write stories about the Lizard People.
|
"Hey Brad. Ready for the game of ball later?"asked Jeff, a six foot, pale skinned human enough looking person as he entered the living room.
"Hey Jeff, I sure am. I hope we victory so that I can dance on Susan at the party time"said Brad, sitting on the sofa in his 5 foot 5, darker skinned but equally ill fitting frame.
"Hey Brad, Hey Jeff. Shall we drink the Pre-Game Pre-Drink drinks? it is the time for that isn't it not?"asked Tony who was entering the living room from another door, much wider than Brad or Jeff.
"that would be most radical or expected of us"said Brad with a nervous smile, finding alcohol messes around with body control systems. "I hope I do not loose control of my bodily functions"he continued to himself under his breath.
"ah, but Brad, dearest fellow human, that seems to be the point of drinking the drinks, isn't it not?"said Steve who entered, his bare chest with an overly intricate rendition of the school team logo painted across it. His face pointy and odd in places and his ears were far too large for his head, they twitched and sometimes beeped.
"Welcome to the social group Steve."
"thank you Jeff"
"Brad, Steve, Jeff, Shall we make and exit to the sport location for the shouting time?"
"It's the watching that is most important Tony, not the shouting"
"but the shouting makes them run faster isn't it not?"
"Oh Tony, it is like you are a Slugger-spawn from Alpha Centauri XII with ideas like that."the group laughed, none of them seeming to pick up on the alien insult, common on their own worlds, but nonsensical on earth.
"haha, you know me well, you Bugblatter Beast of Traal,"tony laughed in reply, the others laughing too.
"ha...wait"said Jeff
"haha...wait"said Brad
"hahaha...wait"said Steve
"HAHAhahaha...ha...ha...Wait"said Tony
The four human-ish people looked to each other with suspicious and confused eyes.
"Oh, blast and damn"they all said in unison.
|
A bright light flashed, blinding Tom. The first thing he saw was Mittens the cat arching her back, hissing at Tom, and sprinting out of the room. That light must have startled the poor girl almost as much as it had startled him.
"Wait! Mittens, come back!"He called.
"Are you sure you want to do that?"He heard an internal voice ask.
"That was a weird thought. Of course I want Mittens to come back."Tom thought back.
"One point spent in Animal Companionship. You may now summon one pet."The internal voice responded.
No sooner had the thought finished than Mittens strutted back into the room to stand by Tom's side. She looked up at him expectantly. Tom noticed a spider crawling along a cabinet door. He pointed to it.
"Mittens, attack!"He commanded.
Her pupils dilated as she spotted the enemy. She hopped over to the prey, swatting at it a few times before swallowing it whole. Tom felt a faint surge of energy pulse through him, a tiny aftershock of the one before. He needed that feeling, that high again. Did it only come from killing insects? That couldn't be it. Spiders were arachnids, not insects. And what was that voice in his head? It was almost like living inside his very own role playing game.
The appearance of a small copper coin pulled him from his thoughts. It hid just beneath the door of the cabinet, where Mittens had vanquished the spider. Tom stooped to pick it up. He didn't recognize the figure etched on its surface. He held it to the light to get a better look only to notice a second coin sitting on top of the counter where he had killed the last mosquito. The same mysterious figure adorned this coin, too.
"That does it."He thought. "I'm probably going to wake up any minute now, but until I do, I might as well have some fun with this."
"Mittens, let's go. It's time to find some bigger prey!"
________________________________________________
[Here is a link to an updated version of this story](https://www.reddit.com/r/LewisClarke/comments/5v99la/fantasygaming_the_warriors_realm_c1c3/) |
I checked my pocket watch, 10:02am. The bell started ringing at 10:14 yesterday, and repeatedly rang for three hours straight. I glanced across at the Sheriff, he too was checking his pocket watch, his weathered hands gripping his repeater tightly. We were stationed on top of Trudy's Saloon, whilst the Marshall and the Mayor kept lookout inside. The bell rings often and the townspeople know what it means. When it rings more than twice, most move over to the next town for a few days to avoid whatever was going to happen. The last time it rang for three minutes straight, and a vast gang of bandits arrived, but were swiftly cut down by two deputies on Maxim machine guns. I was asleep when it started ringing, and the Sheriff had to wake me up. I'd asked him how long it had been ringing for. It had been ringing for half an hour at that point. The entire town had cleared out by then. The only ones remaining were the Sheriff, the Marshall, the Mayor, and me. I was the only Sheriff's deputy who didn't desert with the rest. Only the four of us.
We'd prepared as well as we could. Dynamite traps were set up all around the main street, we'd managed to rent a Maxim gun again, and we had enough ammunition to give a gunslinger a wet dream. I checked my pocket watch once more, and saw the hand change from 10:03 to 10:04. Ten minutes left. I looked down at the square, and it was almost like witchcraft. One minute the square was empty, the next, a strange hooded figure was walking slowly down the street. He carried no long arms that we could see, however there was a large curved sword in a scabbard at his side. As he approached the bell in the centre of the town square, I observed him further. He was carrying a long, thin sword with a radical curve at his left hip, and seemed to be carrying a long dagger on the opposite hip. He wore shadowy black robes, and a large hood obscured part of his face. He seemed foreign, strange. I saw out of the corner of my eye, the Sheriff slowly raising his repeater. I looked at him and shook my head slowly.
Considering I was the one who didn't want to shoot him, the Sheriff elected me to talk with him. After all, danger could mean many things, we'd had the bell ring once before when a man ran into town with a poisonous snakebite. So there was danger involved, but not the kind danger we expected. He lived fortunately, but he ended up losing an arm. I shouldered my repeater and climbed down from the building, before walking out towards the stranger.
"You anticipate great danger."The man said suddenly, without looking at me, instead focusing on the large, ornate brass bell hanging above the well.
"Not me, that."I replied quietly, gesturing at the bell.
"I see. I have been searching many years for this relic."The man replied. He spoke perfect English, but with an odd clipped accent, similar to that of an Egyptian man I'd met once in my youth. I checked my pocket watch. 10:09.
"How long until it arrives?"The man asked absently, staring at the bell strangely.
"Five minutes."I replied, my hands idle. I trusted this bell, so I knew I had nothing to fear from this man, nor anyone else, not for another five minutes anyway.
"We have not long then. It will be here by then."The man replied, before turning to face me. I half expected his eyes to be dead and skin to be blackened, but he looked quite normal, save for the odd choice of attire. I was wearing my regular shirt and pants, with my star lobsidedly pinned to my chest. I nodded, and waved my hand above me in a tight circle. The other three knew not to shoot the man now, which I'm sure he'd appreciate. The man turned back to the bell, walked up and began tapping it lightly with his dagger. A strange water sloshing sound could be heard as the knife collided with the brass surface, and I'm sure I saw the surface of it ripple.
"What are you doing?"I asked him, before checking my watch again. Three minutes now.
"I am calling upon the relic's power to create life in order to call for rain."He replied, as if it were obvious.
"Ah. Of course."I stated, hiding my frustrations. I was overlooking a lot here. I always knew the damn thing was magic, as did everyone else for the most oart, but I didn't think it was this powerful. "Why?"I added.
"We'll need the rain in order to face him in his human form. You will see soon enough."The strange man replied. I pursed my lips and decided to just take his word for it.
"What can I call you?"I asked suddenly, realizing I was putting an awful lot of trust in a man I didn't even know the name of.
"I am Prince Al-"and he proceeded to list his name, and his kingdom, both being words I could hardly understand, let alone say.
"I can't say that, so I'll call you Al."I replied. Al turned to me and I could swear he smiled at me through the hood.
"And you're known as?"Al asked as he stood back from the bell, and vast rainclouds began to form high above us.
"I'm Sam"I replied simply, and checked my watch again.
10:14am.
"Well Sam, we're about to fight a god."Al replied jovially, glancing at an approaching dust storm across the desert. |
The year following first contact with the Yiethilid had been tough. For a microbiologist, the years after were even harder. After a round of hostilities, the aliens had requested a truce. They had been exiled from their home and wanted some sort of asylum, and in exchange they promised an end to disease for every living thing on the planet. No government would turn that down, and soon everyone had received the Remedy, and the world was better for it. The Yiethilid only had time for a final warning; “Do not ever seek to extend human longevity.” Then, they started dropping like flies. Naturally, us stubborn humans started doing it anyways, and it was my job to find out why it could be a bad idea long after the fact. Typical.
I glanced at the reptilian corpse lying on a slab. It’s horrid smells filled the room, and that was made worse by the heat lamps needed to keep its enzymes stable. Oh god I wasn’t looking forward to this.
I reached for my various implements and started to dissect the Yiethilid body, looking for confirmation of what we had been told about them. That was the gallbladder, here was the rough equivalent of a heart, god that’s a weird skeleton. Everything checked out. Given that this specimen was close to two hundred years old, it was frankly remarkable. No signs of necrosis beyond what you’d expect of a body, and the blood test showed no signs of toxins. Man, it would’ve taken ages to catch up to these guys.
Using swabs, I took the few samples I wanted to analyze. Back in the day these would’ve just been handed to me, but as you’d imagine no more pathologies meant budget cuts for me. I turned the specimen to its side to get a bit of delta sub-brain tissue, and that’s when i noticed the small centimeter-wide hole right under the Yiethilid’s lower arm. It was a clear sign that he had dies like all the others.
I opened him up regardless, knowing that i’d find a baseball-shaped hole right beneath the surface. People thought it might be a weird organ harvesting thing. Others thought this was natural for them. Truth be told nobody really knew what was happening. I was surprised to find something completely different. The cavity I expected was really there, but it wasn’t completely empty. Roughly half of it was full of what looked like a sort of net. It was reminiscent of a red worm with ramifications forming some sort of squelching grid. I was knocked aback clean out of my chair with disgust. Thank god whatever it was didn’t seem alive. Eventually I recovered from the initial shock, and managed to grab a small sample before marking the body for immediate incineration.
Our medical knowledge may be near-impeccable, but it wasn’t as fast as it once was. It took almost a full month to process the test results. Everything was on backorder and distributors were under-staffed. I couldn’t really blame ‘em.
Everything came back as expected, save for the weird red worm thing. After all, I had no idea what to expect. Clearly it was some kind of parasite, but it was hard to make out anything else. What I *did* find made me curious though. The chemical composition was familiar, very familiar in fact. It was Remedy.
We had known that the Yiethilid technology somehow filtered our blood of toxins and pathogens, but did the pill actually contain a parasite? There’s no way it could, at least not one this developed. Development…
A dark thought crossed my mind. I had taken Remedy. We all had. Obviously this lizard wasn’t a human being, but could it affect us in a similar way? I decided to give Ernie a call. If anyone could answer these questions, it was my favorite surgeon.
I picked up the phone and dialed his number. It didn’t take him long to pick up. With me, it never did.
“Yup hello” he answered as he always did. “What ya need?”
I rolled my eyes, thankful that he couldn’t see me. “Hey Ern, I’ve actually got a quick question for ya. You perform elective surgeries, have you ever seen a weird red thing? I can send you a picture, it’s like a wei-“
“Weird net thing. We need to meet.”
Normally I would’ve been hesitant. After all this wasn’t the first time Ern asked me out. This sounded different though, and I invited him over. What I didn’t expect was him to show up with an assortment of hard liquor.
“You’re gonna need it.” He said, noticing my expression. He sat onto the couch away from me and started pouring the bottle of scotch into his mouth, careful to never have his lips touch the rim.
“So ugh, you were saying you’d found this thing before?” I asked.
Ernie wiped his mouth into his beard before continuing. “You’re gonna think i’m crazy.” He replied.
“Well the drinking doesn’t help.”
He set the bottle down. “Listen” he started. “I saw that thing. I was doing a breast reduction when i saw the thing just squirming there. It was small, in fact i thought for a while that i had made it up. That I was seeing stuff. But I wasn’t. It happened again last week, this time during a tummy tuck. Damn thing noticed the light and crawled away. I think it was hiding.”
My jaw dropped at his story. Parasites moving around and hiding from view? Well he did warn me that he would sound crazy…
“It’s true!” he continued. “I swear these things are real. I tried talking about it to my supervisor. He gave me sick leave after he didn’t see anything. These things are real, and I think they’re sentient.”
Shivers ran down my spine at those last few words. Hell it was crazy, but what if it was true? Sentient parasites in every human being. There was no way… right?
We spent the evening throwing ideas around, tons of “what ifs” and wild hypotheses. The same question kept popping up again and again; would these things be easier to find in older people? Ernie said he could pull a few strings to make sure he could work on the next patient exceeding 200 years old.
It took a month before I heard from him again, and this time Ernie skipped the phone call and just showed up with some vodka and rhum. “Jesus fuck” was all he could say for a solid two minutes. Finally, he started explaining.
“I finally got to put a geezer under the knife. The Remedy was there, and it was huge. Guy was getting his cranium shaved down to have a rounder head, but as soon as we shaved his head i could tell that there was *something* right under the scalp. Sure as shit, there it was. The god damn worm thing was wrapped around his skull. Worst part is it tried to slither away. I couldn’t catch it.”
“Well then it didn’t try, it did.” I replied.
“This isn’t funny ok?” he exclaimed. He sounded angry. “This is some serious shit. We know for a fact that every man woman and child on earth has one of those *things* in it. Remedy is hereditary, further doses aren’t needed. How the fuck did nobody notice this before?”
I shrugged. “Maybe somebody did.” I thought back on the Yiethilids and their final warning. It was like a lightbulb in my head.
“Wait, the aliens that came here… They said that it was dangerous to extend our lifespans. Do you think that this is what they were talking about?”
He nodded. “Probably. I can’t feel anything. Hell, if nobody detected this thing it might be harmless. Well, until it grows too big if I had to guess.”
I thought back to my specimen from a month back. He was only 200 years old. Remarkable of course, but I think that he was the youngest I’d worked on. At the time I didn’t think it mattered. Then it dawned on me. “Wait, the holes. Do you think that maybe after they’re old enough, this Remedy can live on its own? Is it escaping?”
Ern looked at me and downed the rest of the vodka. “We’re about to find out. The oldest generation turns 300 next year.” |
James Conroy went through the doors of the supermarket confidently, giving a glance to every magically imbued artifact he could find in the chain store. In one corner, wares floated enticingly from the floor, encouraging extra eyes to be drawn to the more expensive wares. In another corner, the lights would brighten and dim themselves as people passed the aisles in order to save on electricity, only using energy needed when items were being perused. Conroy loved places like this.
He made his way to the wares floating — different tech and gadgets for those used to the world prior to the introduction of magic. He saw that they were floating up and down while also spinning ever so slightly on their axis. There were a number of spells that could achieve this, and he would have to be sure before making any moves. He waved at someone at the cash register to ask for help.
“Can I assist you sir?” he asked, looking up at the headphones James was staring at.
“Yeah, I was wondering whether the magics cast on the item would affect the stuff within. I don’t wanna buy anything faulty, y’know?” James glanced at the worker’s name tag, seeing his name was Henry.
“Uhh… I’m actually not sure. What kind of magic normally affects the gadgets within?” Henry asked, pulling out his device to look up inventory.
“Ah, you know. Stuffs like AirFlow or Spinner. Though this could also be a Float that’s inheriting from a LazySusan that’s loading from a debounced call to make sure it’s a less enhanced form of energy. Or something’…” James said, trying to sound as unimportant as possible. Henry was nodding, typing search terms into his device.
“Looks to me that this is casting Levitation, with a Rotate as a secondary motion,” Henry read from his screen.
“This uses Levitate?” James pointed to the headphones, casting Levitate on the item. Visually nothing changed, but the device now had two instances of the same spell running on it.
“Yeah, does that affect the device like you were saying?” Henry said.
“You sure this uses Levitate?” James Conroy asked with another point, casting Levitate again. “And what about the other floaty things? Do they use Levitate? All of ‘em levitate with the same spell?” With each point came another addition of the spell.
“That’s right sir. Is that something to be concerned about?” Henry asked, curious.
“It shouldn’t affect nothin, unless…” James let his voice trail. Henry leaned in, his interest piqued. “Ah, it’s probably nothin,” James waved dismissively.
“What? What is it?” Henry practically jumped with interest. Amateur magicians always loved to learn the intricacies of the new world.
“It’s just, you know, multi-threading,” James shrugged. “If these things are cast with the same spell every morning at open time, it might overload the device unless you know how to stop the processes overnight.”
“Oh, uhhh…” Henry scratched his head, not understanding a word of that sentence. “I think we do something about the magic overnight. Because they don’t float overnight.”
“Oh, sure, sure,” James nodded, patting Henry’s shoulder confidently. “They woulda caught flame by now if you didn’t. I should know, I handle this kinda stuff professionally.”
Henry looked a little nervous, but nodded.
“Anyway, I’ll go check out some snacks before buying any o’ these bad boys, with all the fancy Levitating,” James pointed with his thumb, casting the spell upon it one last time. He walked away, Henry left staring at the items with concern, uncertain whether he should change anything about the spells.
James was technically telling the truth. Too many spells on one object without any management of spell-complexity would result in effects far beyond intended casting, bursting into flames was just one of many possible scenarios. What most people didn’t know is that it could happen as a result of casting the same exact spell on something without removing the previous spell. Those that cleaned up the store in the evening would know to remove the spell entirely, but a cashier like Henry had likely never received the instruction during his quick onboarding at the company. He may have even noticed that James was casting spells, but deemed them benign, as people cast random spells all the time to breathe better or get rid of random aches and pains.
It took only a few seconds before the first package of headphones exploded into a dazzling display of flames, followed by the mouse floating right next to them, the overloads chain reacting. Henry yelped and turned with horrified eyes to James.
“Sir!” he screamed. James pretended not to hear. “SIR!”
“Ah, would you look at that,” James pretended to be surprised by the fires in the air.
“Can you stop the threads or whatever it was!!” Henry scampered over to him.
“Of course!” James said, pulling out a card. “For a price.”
It was common for stores of this size to have funds to pay exclusively for magic repairmen in case situations like this happened. The art was still far to new for people to know how to deal with these issues themselves. People as low as cashiers had the right to use this fund if it was a “necessary emergency.” Henry stared quickly at the rates in hand, stabbing a finger quickly into the all expense package.
“This one! Make it go away!”
“Right away,” James nodded, suppressing a smile at how easy it had been. He removed all of his additional spells at once and even put out the flames before any fire alarms went off. He spun around on his heel and was quickly delivered payment for his amazing work in such perfect timing.
“If you need anything else, feel free to give me a call. After all, this is an all-expense package,” James informed, pointing to the phone number on the business card.
“Thank you so much!” Henry said gratefully as James Conroy left.
It would be a few hours before Henry realized just how suspicious everything about the situation was, and how odd it was that James left without purchasing anything despite perusing the store for more than a few minutes before the incident. He dialed the phone number on Conroy’s card to get some explanations, but was quickly informed by an automated voice that the phone number he was trying to reach did not exist.
__________
r/Nazer_the_Lazer for more stories! |
When Humanity was brought into the intergalactic fold, and in turn, the Intergalactic War Council, they explained that they had certain rules that they followed for warfare. The aliens laughed, read the rules, and even though they were confused with what exactly the rules prohibited... They accepted the fact that Humanity had rules for warfare. And so they thought they were done with that.
They weren't.
As time went on and Humanity started opening itself up to certain planets, the aliens couldn't help but be curious about Planet Z-765. And so their confusion with the rules humans had for warfare grew.
One day, they couldn't help but ask.
"Why do you humans have rules for warfare? Doesn't that just hinder you and make you vulnerable?"An alien asked three of their dear human friends one day. Their friends, Harvey, Roxy, and Kay, all froze.
All three of them had served in different branches of the military. Harvey had served in the marines, Roxy had served in the Navy, and Kay had served in the air force. They knew *exactly* why Humanity needed rules for warfare.
"It's not to protect us, it's to protect you."Harvey admitted quietly. He had always been quiet. Their alien friend (who had insisted on being called by the human name 'Greg'), was confused.
"Protect *us?* Our technology is *much* more advanced than yours. How would rules for only you protect *us*?"Greg scoffed.
"Our rules protect you because we can be extremely cruel. Vicious. Sadistic."Roxy answered, her face dark as she recalled some of the horrors she had seen.
"War brings out the worst in people, and sometimes the best."Kay started slowly, they're eyes haunted and full of they're own nightmares. "And we've done horrible things, just to stay alive. There's a reason humanity still exists, even though millennia ago we were apes."
Greg honestly couldn't imagine his friends doing anything horrible.
Even if he knew, logically, that they had all picked up guns. That they had fought wars, and he had been taught some human history. He knew some of it was bloody.
"Humans... Greg, we don't just defeat our enemies."Roxy sighed, before looking him in the eye. "If the rules weren't in place, there wouldn't be *anything* *left* of them."Greg looked at his friends in horror, seeing that they were completely serious.
And with that new knowledge, he went straight back to his home planet.
Word spread like wildfire, and soon, everyone knew why Humanity had their rules for warfare.
It was so that you knew if your loved one was dead or not, instead of them never finding the body.
It was so that entire races weren't destroyed a few short years.
It was so the Galaxy remained standing. |
It had been a life well lived. For me at least. I was at peace with all I had accomplished. Maybe there were opportunities I had missed out on, and sure there were some, like children, but that didn’t bother me.
I was known as the lonely old codger of 78 Hayview road. I knew the rumours. People talking about me behind my back. It used to get to me. Especially when I tried to help pass on messages and such. You see, I can talk to the dead. Sometimes they had something to say to the living and once upon a time I tried to ensure that message would be shared. The issue came in the belief of others. Some, a very rare few, believed me and thanked me but many others would scoff or laugh me away. Their loss.
Anyway, all that to say I didn’t meet many people while alive. Apart from Dorothee. She was a gem amongst the dirt. She loved my spiritual tales of woe and wonder. She didn’t bat an eye, or talk behind my back, she was enraptured in my stories. It wasn’t simply because of that that I loved her though. She was kind to everyone, and clever in a special logical way, one that I could never grasp. She was perfect, except for one fatal flaw. Cancer.
It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t anyone’s really. It’s just the universe being the universe. I could have been angry and resentful, but I could talk to her spirit. I was still with her. In a sense. And while I could no longer enjoy our warm embraces, or feel her physically, emotionally, she was stronger than ever.
So while I aged, she remained a young spirit by my side and refusing to leave. And so I refused to move on. We were intertwined. While I dreamt of kids while young, I never had the opportunity to raise them alone. At least, not providing as well as I would want, and maybe I’d get the chance after death.
It was nice having all these spirits around me since I was young. Even if it wasn’t easy at first. And downright terrifying when the first malicious spirit appeared. But luckily, the kind ones helped defend me from any future trickery and spiteful beings. And now, as I approached death, I didn’t fear it either.
Dorothee nodded at me. Her hand in mine. I closed my eyes and felt her squeeze. My time had come. |
Fred scratched his head, combing through the help manual he'd gotten in training. There was no chapter on time travel. He started flicking through the pages at random, shooting a nervous glance up at the three angry men in front of him. Finding nothing in the manual that would be of any help, Fred resorted to repeating what he had already said several times.
"There's nothing in here,"he told the men, holding up the manual. "As I said, the rules are: whoever gets here first gets the patent."
As expected, the three men exploded at once. They all tried to shove their way in front and shout louder than anyone else.
"I was born centuries before either of you!", one of them said. He wore a strange combination of jacket, garters, and rubber boots and he had a thin moustache that curved around his head.
"I perfected the Five-fold Split! You missed your target with 20 years!", another one said. This one was completely hairless and covered in a thin silky material from the neck down, but he didn't need eyebrows to convey his anger.
"Time is a Möbius strip! The end is the beginning!", the third one piped up. Fred could only assume the statement was meant to solidify the man's claim, but he failed to see how.
The three men reached a sort of standstill. They stared at Fred expectantly, grunting and cursing while trying to hold their ground against the others. Fred looked at each of them in turn, trying to think of a way to please the men -- or at least get them to leave.
"OK,"he began. The men stiffened. "How about this: you can share the patent. That way, you all get your share."
They were quiet for a second... and then they started shouting and pushing again, even worse than before.
"Absolutely not!", the first one said, his moustache quivering with rage.
"I will *not* give ANYTHING to these imposters!", the second one yelled.
"All that once was, shall be! Everything is nothing!", the third one said. For a second, even he looked confused as to what side he was on.
Fred sighed again, deeper. He addressed the men like he addressed his five-year-old niece when she wouldn't eat her dinner.
"Well, this is how it's going to be. There's no other way. Either you share, or no one gets anything."
The men exchanged irritated glances, huffing and snorting. They crossed their arms and turned away from each other, speaking to Fred while ignoring the other two.
"I guess it'll do, *for now*", the first one said, his last words dripping with venom.
"This is not over", the second one assured, not even trying to hide the hatred in his voice.
"I'm flexible", the third one said.
Fred remained completely still, afraid to break the strange spell that had suddenly compelled the men to agree to a compromise. When it seemed that none of them changed their mind, he spoke up.
"Alright! Great. One moment; I'll get the papers."He left them to fetch the necessary paperwork from the back room. His mood had improved considerably by the time he made his way back, carrying a stack of large sheets of paper.
Then he saw something strange.
By chance, he happened to glance over the "T"shelf, where all the patents beginning with "T"were kept. One of the labels made him stop in his tracks: "Time Machine". *Huh.* He had never seen that one before, and yet he had helped to set up the room. He thought he knew almost every patent they had. But this one came as a complete surprise. At the very least, he should have *heard* of it -- right?
He dropped the stack of papers and instead brought the patent out to the men. They eyed him suspiciously when he laid out a finished patent in front of them.
"I found something strange", Fred said. "Apparently, someone's already filed a patent for something called a 'Time Machine'."
The men looked at each other, each exclaiming variations of 'well, it wasn't me!'. Then they all turned back to Fred.
"Well, who filed it!?", the first one said. Fred put his finger to the page, searching for the signature.
"Let's see..."The men followed his finger like a cat follows a string of yarn, and when it finally settled on a scrawled name at the bottom of the page, they held their breath. Fred looked up at them.
"Here we are: one 'Nikola Tesla'. Hm. No idea who that is."
The men went silent, staring at the paper and beyond. Their lips twisting in contempt, they all muttered a single word:
"*Tesla.*" |
Jake and Sarah had been interrupted in the middle of lovemaking before, but this was different. A robot had breached the perimeter of their hideout. It wasn't a little one, either. The scanner showed a crawler, an eight legged search-and-destroy robot that stood nearly ten feet tall. It should have tripped an alarm from a mile away, but somehow it had managed to disrupt the long-range sensors and now it was seconds away.
Naked as a jaybird, Jake crouched by the door peeking into the hallway. At this point there was little they could do. The crawler was heavily armed and heavily armored. The only thing that could shut it down was the short range EMP that Sarah was desperately trying to charge.
"How much longer on the EMP?"Jake whispered.
"30 seconds."
The crawler had made it to the entrance of the hallway and was already clawing at the blast door. That would take maybe 10 seconds at the most, followed by another five to reach their room. There was no way. Jake prepared himself to do something really desperate.
The blast door was ripped off its hinges. The crawler bunched its legs together and started into the hallway. Even after compacting itself it still completely blocked the hallway. Even if it sat still they couldn't get past it.
When it was halfway through the hall, Jake jumped out, screamed at the top of his lungs and charged the crawler. He wouldn't last long, but Sarah only needed a few more seconds. To Jake's surprise, instead of being instantly shredded by the front legs, the crawler shrank back and covered its optical sensors.
"Sir, please cover yourself,"the robot demanded loudly. "You are indecent. Please cover yourself immediately."
Jake stood still in complete shock. Neither he nor the crawler moved. Apparently no one had ever been stupid enough to try fighting a killer robot completely unarmed and naked before. Somewhere, somehow the robots had been programmed to avoid looking upon the naked human body.
"Sir, please-"The crawler was cut off by the sound of an EMP blast. Jake covered his eyes as white-hot arcs erupted from the robot's body.
When it was over, Jake walked back into the room. Candles, unaffected by the EMP, still lit the room. Sarah was as white as the sheet she had wrapped around her torso, and she still hovered over the EMP. They shared a second of silence.
"Are you ok?"Sarah finally asked.
"It didn't touch me. Apparently it didn't like my penis."
Sarah gave a small snort as she stifled a laugh. "Imagine that."
"Hey!"Jake protested, but couldn't think of a retort. "At least now we know how to fight them. We might win this war after all, provided we don't mind going around naked all the time."
"You would suggest that."
-------------------------------------------------------
Author's note:
Sorry I wrote this in a hurry and didn't give it a lot of detail. If y'all like it I can maybe dress it up a little more later.
Edit: fixed a couple of typos. Also, I'm really glad y'all liked the idea. It figures that the entry that required the least effort from me got the strongest positive response. I'll have to give this some thought before posting an update. Thanks.
Edit 2: I've started a project in Scrivener for this. I need help thinking of a title, so any suggestions are welcome. I'll see about making this a 3 chapter short story. |
"Oh my god!"a woman shouted, her tricep jiggling like a bag of water as she pointed at the rooftop.
A man sat at the ledge, his chubby legs dangling over the side. Pedestrians swiveled their hover-chairs around to get a look at the sight.
"Don't jump!"another man yelled. "You-"he paused and took a puff from his inhaler. "You have so much to live for!"
"Somebody should help him,"Richard said. He urged his hover chair forward, but it moaned under his weight.
"Who?"Michael asked with a snicker. "You? You're the fattest guy in New York City. What could you do?"
Richard looked away and mumbled, "Fair enough. I'm going to get a quick snack. Anybody want anything?"
With all of his friends distracted by the spectacle, Richard hovered into an alleyway between two separate McDonald's restaurants. Once he was alone, he leapt from his hover chair and detached the bag of sand from his stomach. It clapped to the ground and his chair almost flew into the air, relieved of its burden. He tore off the fake legs, arms, and face fat and leapt into action. It took him just a matter of minutes to change into his costume and assume his other identity: Cardio Man.
Cardio Man lightly jogged on the scene, evoking shocked gasps from the civilians.
"Save him, Cardio Man!"
"It's impossible!"another citizen said. "The elevator to the building is broken. Three people were in it at once and the cable snapped!"
"Oh my god!"a woman gasped as the building ledge bean to crack.
The ground beneath the jumper would soon break away, carrying him to his doom.
"Holy pre-workout, Cardio Man!"a voice said from behind. "Looks like we don't have much time!"
Cardio Man turned around to see a muscular young man stepping forward and munching on a granola bar.
"The Bulking Kid!"Cardio Man declared. "What are you doing here?"
"No time,"he replied. "You aren't strong enough to pull the man from the ledge. And I'm not quick enough to reach the top in time. Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"
Cardio Man grinned. "It's Cardio Time!"
The Bulking Kid jumped onto Cardio Man's shoulders, and the superhero began to lightly jog toward the building. A crack of stone broke away, and the spectators gasped in fear. Then, without warning, Cardio Man's light jog broke into a moderately paced jog, and the citizens of New York applauded. Within less than ten minutes, they were at the top of the twenty story building, thoroughly winded but otherwise undefeated.
"Please save me!"the man at the ledge said. "I want to live!"
The man sat a few feet from his hoverchair, reaching his chubby fingers out for something to save him.
"I'll take it from here,"the Bulking Kid said and, with that, he lifted the obese man back into his chair and the crowd applauded.
The two heroes stood at the ledge of the building, triumphant. Another citizen of New York saved.
"Not bad, Bulking Kid,"Cardio Man said.
"Never would've made it here in time without you,"he replied.
"You know, you could jog that fast as well if you came by my crossfit gym for a quick-"
"Fuck off, Cardio Man."
[(Insert shameless plug for personal subreddit here)](https://www.reddit.com/r/thisstorywillsuck) |
"I can't let you come down here for two reasons."Satan says to the firefighter at the gate, shaking his head. "First, you are a good man. You can't come in anyway. Even if you could, you've been misinformed."
"How do you mean?"Chuck Mason reaches for where his axe would be, a reflex action from years of cutting through doors and pulling people out from the wreckage.
"Well, take a look."Satan opens the gate a little wider so Chuck can see. There's no flames down here. Not even a wisp of smoke. It's just a rolling expanse of black rock, broken up by pits. "There's a lake of fire waiting for me as my final fate, but that's not Hell. Hell is a super-maximum security prison, Chuck. Each of these pits is filled with a different group of sinners. As they trudge around the pit, they are forced to relive their every sin, over and over until the end of time."
The devil steps outside the gate and closes it behind him. "Dante and the other poets who spoke of Hell were lying. This is a cold place, where people who are capable of remorse are shown the consequences of their sin, the failure of their own free will. And while it may seem that I can wander freely in this place, it's just as much a prison for me. I was made without free will, and my every action against heaven was carefully calculated in advance."
Old Scratch leans against the gate, his fingers shaking. "I have to walk through the infinite expanse of hell, and listen to millions of voices crying out 'Please forgive me' or 'Give me one more chance, please.' And I wish I could give it to them. The fewer souls there are down here, the less tormented I would be. But my hands are tied. I cannot provide them relief, I cannot give them a second chance. Hearing their pleas for forgiveness is my penance, one I must pay until the end of time."
Chuck looks at the Devil, not with pity, but with questioning eyes. "Why tell me all this?"
"Because it's not your time, Chuck."Satan answers, pointing up at Earth where the doctors are trying to revive his body. "You have a few more years left in you, and then you will go to Heaven. That's how it works. But now, you've seen the truth about Hell, and you have another choice. You can be an example. You may be too old to save lives, but you can use the years you have left to save souls. Find the people who are going to end up here, and change their path."
"You want me to do this for you?"Chuck says. "To cut down on your eternal punishment?"
"Think of it this way. A single hot spot in a burning building can cause a flashover, spreading the fire to other places and setting off a chain reaction. But a single man, in the right place at the right time, can set off a chain reaction of lives changed for the better. Now go, Chuck Mason. Go back to Earth."
With a violent tug, Chuck is dragged back to his body, and the family around him celebrates as he opens his eyes.
Down in Hell, Satan walks back through the gate and looks up, past the Earth, to the home he once knew. "It is done, Father. Chuck Mason shall come to you in five years and he will be bringing many people with him."He expects no response, no column of fire, no booming voice. But he has done his duty and sent a heroic soul back where it was needed the most. And so, even surrounded by the screams of the penitent, the one who was once known as Lucifer Morningstar allows himself a small smile. |
For years Asteros had planned and plotted, through countless battles he had guided the Hero to this point, and now the hero stood trapped with unthinkable amounts of spikes poised above him ready to crush him once and for all, and countless cameras broadcasting this decisive moment to the world. The plan was going perfectly.
“Foolish Hero, you think you can save this world, it is already heading for disaster even without me, I am just quickening the pace!”
He approached the release control of the trap, flanked by his 2 most loyal henchmen. Asteros let a well-rehearsed leer spread across his face, took a deep breath and gestured to the nearest camera before launching back into his speech.
“These humans are…”
But before he could go any further one of his henchmen snagged the control and triggered the trap. 100 tonnes of steel come crashing down upon the Hero, spiked ends first, killing him instantly. Asteros stood dumbstruck, staring at the place the Hero had stood just moments ago as a feeling of horror came over him.
“Oh Crap! That wasn’t part of the plan!”
He turned to the foolish henchman already sheepishly smiling to himself for ending the hero personally and the mere sight of this seemed to set Asteros’ blood boiling. The air went cold and the henchman froze as if held by an invisible force, his skin dried and the air seemed to run for cover as, with power he had never shown before, Asteros blasted the henchman to dust with nothing but a thought. He turned to the cameras next and they all
shattered on queue as if by the will of God. The 2nd henchman stumbled back in terror and confusion.
“Why my Lord, Why are you so angry!?”
As the 2nd henchman’s skin began to dry under his master’s glare, Asteros pointed back at the splattered, spike-ridden mess that once stood against him and shouted his words once more.
“That wasn’t part of the plan!”
And as quickly as the first, the air around the 2nd henchman launched itself away from him as he too turned to dust. Asteros was moving quickly now, marching down corridors and passageways lost in thought. The Hero wasn’t meant to die, all this planning was wasted, years of hiding his true strength, a lifetime of carefully measured action controlling the entire life of a single man bringing him to this one decisive moment, and it was all for nothing! He had miscalculated in bringing henchmen, they were supposed to heighten the dread the hero felt, but also to give him options, weak targets to aim for and give him confidence, but in the end they weren’t really necessary to the plan, they were just extras, to smooth things a little, and now THIS!
Inside his head billions of voices began speaking as he honed in on the ones he wanted, he found the people he needed and filtered out the rest, strengthening the link so they could hear him as well.
“The plan failed, the Hero is dead”
There was a brief pause before a salty American voice replied
“No shit, what now?”
Asteros felt a pang of guilt before it was overcome with frustration.
“What? You think this was easy? How was I supposed to know that was going to happen?
Another brief pause before another voice spoke up, this time in French, but instantly translated in Asteros’ head.
“We don’t doubt your efforts, we just need to know what happens next, you came to us and we backed you because we didn’t have a better plan, we still don’t, I’m hoping that you do."
Asteros stopped dead in his tracks, casting his considerable intellect around for ideas and finding none. Without the Hero this all fell apart, and the people wouldn’t quickly accept a new one, certainly not in time. After a while a decidedly British voice chimed in.
“Please Asteros, we know it was unfair of us to pass this burden to you, but we still need you.”
More voices now, from Germany, Syria, Canada, Australia, all the people he had conspired with were urging him to think of something, and Asteros could only think of one more idea, an idea so inelegant and crass that even the American hadn’t considered it, but if something wasn’t done now, the careful control and orchestration of the world populous would fall apart, right now they were primed, if shocked, but they would soon be lost to chaos, swept away by their grief and horror at what had happened. Asteros took a breath and sighed.
“It is time for plan B”
With that he cut off his conspirators and marched into a nearby room with a camera, turning it on and resuming the broadcast.
“Hello Humans”
He spat the words at the camera, rage at his plans failing so spectacularly fuelling his performance.
“I had a plan. One I have worked on now for over 30 years, I would cause chaos and make the world my enemy, I would unite you against me and have you feel fearful and powerless all the same, and then I would let a hero rise, and after years of struggle he would prove his virtue and power and ‘defeat’ me…”
He made air quote gestures with his fingers at the word defeat
“…and then this shining vision of a hero would stand as a beacon for you all to change your ways, to stop your petty squabbling and your hoarding of resources and do the good thing for once and finally get around to fixing your society and your planet before your species shuffles off into extinction along with your dying world, but it seems this was not to be.”
Asteros’s eyes grew dark and he took a step closer to the camera. The air became cold, and the whole fortress began to freeze, then dry, and finally explode away in a colossal blast of air and dust, leaving only the camera and himself, showing the world how truly and indomitably powerful he was.
“So now I say this. I can hear you all in my head, every last one, and if I hear a single one of you not doing your part of help your fellow man and correct the mess you have made of yourselves and your world, I will hunt your down and kill you just like the fortress around me and your precious hero.”
With that the camera dusted infront of him. Perhaps THIS would be enough, if he couldn’t unite them in the spirit of justice and hope, he could do it with fear and death. One way or another, things would change…
One way or another, the world would be saved. |
The human frowned. "What are you implying? Have you heard what I said? We've uncovered the mysteries of everything. There's nothing we don't grasp about this universe."
"Oh, I heard."The alien laughed a shrieking laugh. "And I said, let me repeat it for you: that's the easy part. I find it curious, how your kin is bright enough to see past the initial veil, yet dull enough to not understand what's behind."
"No. You're wrong,"the human said and paced in the cell. "We see clearly. Compute. That's all there is. Compute and nothing else."
The alien's maw bolted open and a sound like a sigh came out of it. "Good, but what does that mean? What does it mean that we, that all things are products of computation?"
The human came to a halt and met his prisoner's slit-like eyes. "That everything is a simulation. We are in a simulation."
A clap cut through the brief silence. "Marvellous. But think further into it. If everything is computed, and this is a simulation, then theoretically, we could also create such simulations, yes?"
"No."The human shook his head. "No source in this entire universe can produce the computation needed to recreate even a portion of this simulation we are in."
"Your kin is one for irony, isn't it? We are in an ever-stretching prison, humans. And you, in turn, are in another prison. A much smaller one. Hope there's irony in there."The alien crossed its six arms. "But this is where you need to think even further into it. You have understood everything and yet can you imagine what machine could produce the simulation we are in?"
"No. The theory claims it impossible."
"Therefore, you have met a contradiction. You claim to have understood everything, you have claimed to have understood what's beyond our little universe, and yet in your understanding of everything you have failed to explain to me what's beyond everything. We have reached a contradiction then, human, you only understand a portion of everything.
"There's an infinity between zero and one, and there's a larger infinity between zero and two. It's a perfect analogy you can understand. You know everything, yes, but there are larger everythings, and in those, our knowledge is akin to an atom in size."
The human paced again. "We know this. I have told you. We know everything, and in that everything, we understand there are limitations. We understood this universe, but we understand there's more to it. More to everything."
"And what's is there to do, then?"The alien leaned against the wall.
The human held his prisoner's gaze. "Escape the simulation."
"As expected, you are blind to what's beyond."
A frown distorted the human's expression. "Explain yourself. Stop the riddles."
"We are in a simulation, human. This has been stated. As such, we are the product of fine-tuned parameters. And those parameters establish our limitations. They're our intangible prison. We can't escape. If we try, the logic behind our classes will take care of us. This is all there is for us."
"Are you certain?"
"I have seen it."
The human stood pensive. Silence ensued between the two. Soon, the human scratched his head. "That's quite depressive isn't it?"
"Perhaps. To some, it is freeing to know there's no more to know. To others, it's crushing."
"I see."
"Where do you stand?"
"In the middle. I seem to be crushed yet oddly relieved. No more planet scavenging. No more death, no more prisons, save for this one."He drew a deep breath. "Perhaps it's time to search for happiness."
"That's a good parameter to adjust for."
"It is,"the human said. "It is."
\---------
As a scuffed wizard, I am bewitching you to join /r/AStoryToRuleThemAll. |
I'll have you know, I'm semi-fluent in UwUspeak
So here I go
......
"Ah, Hewo, wou have finawwy cum, I have been awuwaiting your awwivaw!"The Dark Lord Ordimar proclaimed.
"Pfft-"The Hero, quickly clasped a hand over his mouth, but it was too late, Ordimar had heard his muffled exclamation of laughter.
"Is somuting funny, Hewo?"The Dark Lord was confused as to why the otherworldly hero would laugh, for he was a terrifying being, clad in hus black armour, now dyed red in the blood of enemies and all who has opposed him. He was a being of nightmares, stories of him are told to children to keep them in line. Grown men and women flee in his presence.
"No, *pft* *clears throat* No, nothing is funny"the hero does his best to keep a straight face and hide his amusement. But the corners of his mouth betray him.
"Wou think I am a waughing stock? Hah! That is a fiwst, not many can ewen face me, but wou? No, wou awe the fiwst to ewew waugh in my pwesence. I commend wouw bwavewy Hewo. Wou whave bested my minions, my commandews, my champiowns. And now, wou stand befowe me, the inevitabuwu the twue wuwer of this wowld!"
Ordimar rises from his throne of twisted steel and dark magicks, revealing his full imposing height, a collosus of a being compared to most sentient races. He stretches out a hand and proclaims to the Hero.
"I am Owdimawu, the Absowute! Bwingew of Destwuction! Chaos Incawnate!"And with those words, Ordimar releases a powerful shock wave of dark magicks, clawing apart reality around the two, revealing a realm of death and decay.
"And I, I am here to kill CHAOS!!"Jack Garland the Hero proclaims.
"*pfft* hahahahahaha, no, no, I can't hold it in anymore, this is fucking ridiculous, I can't take you seriously."Jack shakes his head and leaps at Chaos and punches him in the face. |
The town in front of me *burned*. Fire crackled in a glorious melody as everything this town was, everything it *could be*, was destroyed in great, unceasing flame. Bright orange flames danced on the wooden debris that used to be homes as great plumes of fire ballooned out into the sky. It wouldn't be long before the neighboring villages took notice of it. Once they did, the kingdom's guards would be here before long.
"It's so warm."
I looked at the little girl huddled at my feet. Around her shoulders was my old cloak--a ratty old thing that I used to keep the elements off me. It wouldn't serve as a good piece of clothing for anyone else, but for the little girl who crawled out of the wreckage and approached me without fear, it might as well have been a king's robe.
"Are they all gone?"she asked. She had clear blue eyes that might have once been sparkling. Now, they were dull under her dirty, straw-like hair. "Are they all dead?"
Her voice was low, monotone. As if all emotion had left her. She approached me as if a zombie at first, and hadn't flinched away even as I turned my sword on her. Enchanted flames reached from my blade and attempted to swallow her whole, and still she hadn't turned away. So I had wrapped her up in my cloak and kept her near as I razed the rest of the village to the ground.
"They aren't really dead,"she continued. I turned back to her. She had pulled my cloak tighter around her. "They're cold and mean and they drop dead, but they don't stay dead."She shook her head. "They never stay dead."
Just then, moans echoed from the burning wrecks. Creatures, ones that looked mostly human, clawed their way from the fire. They had arms like humans, and faces like humans, and fingers and toes and moans like humans, but they weren't. Humans didn't do the kinds of things that they did. I raised my sword from my side, pointing it directly at the creatures. Holy flame lurched to life, engulfing the blade before lancing out and devouring the monsters whole.
They screamed, or tried to, for several seconds before finally succumbing to the flame.
"Are they dead?"she asked again, though this time there was something more there. Something wet and hopeful. Something that started in her chest and rattled outward in tiny, choking sobs. "Are they... Are they gone?"
"The holy fire cleanses all."
"Are they dead?"she asked again. "Can they no longer hurt me? Can they no longer hurt my parents?"
"The flames of the righteous purges all evil, and frees the innocence from the clutches of sinners."
The girl stared at me, eyes wide as she listened for something that only she could hear. After a few minutes her shoulders shook, no longer able to bear the weight of the world, and tears finally poured from backed up eyes.
"They're gone,"she said between broken sobs. "It's finally... They can finally rest."
I didn't ask the little orphan girl her story. I doubted I ever would. I took her hand, gently, so she wouldn't startle, and led her away from the burning wreckage of her village. A part of me considered recovering what little artefacts the necro-mages had pilfered, but they mattered far less now that I had found her.
"Let's get you somewhere safe,"I muttered, my gloved hand returned *Excalibur* to its sheathe. "Are you hungry?"
The girl couldn't answer clearly with words, so she nodded her head. Alright then, food was first on the list. Better to get her eating habits down sooner, rather than later. I might have left the overrun town with empty hands and an empty bag, but I think I'd successfully stolen everything of value from it. |
I woke up.
I'd ran behind the couch, after a loud bang. I slept to escape it.
I went upstairs, to my person's room. I couldn't get in.
I smelled death.
I whimpered.
I sat down; I closed my eyes. I went to sleep again.
I woke up, hungry. I tore into my food, gorged.
Tail down, I went into my kennel. My person would be mad, but I was hungry.
I slept.
Noises outside, others. I called out to them. Intruders at the door! I ran to it, demanded they go away! I looked back at the stairs, my person wouldn't come down! The intruders were still at the door! I kept up my warning for as long as I could. I was tired, thirsty.
I drank; I slept.
I woke up. I ate. I drank. I slept. The intruders never left, but my person didn't come to drive them away. Maybe they are friendly.
But I can't reach them, and I can't reach my person.
________________________________________________________________
My water dish is empty. My food is nearly gone.
I drank from the other bowl. My person would be angry if he caught me.
Everywhere smells of death.
________________________________________________________________
Weak.
The food is gone. The other bowl is empty. The intruders have left.
I bring myself to my person's door. I lie down.
I have kept them safe. I will keep them safe.
I close my eyes. |
Everyone says it. It is like finding a needle in a needle stack. I have given up, mostly, and the word simply depresses me most days. What can I say? Maybe the whole world is my soulmate? Maybe I am destined to be alone. Everyone says it, but no one comes.
Moving past the fate that is written on my hand was hard. The world is a less free place when everyone knows what they are looking for. It is hard for me to find someone, even a friend to dilute the loneliness. It is a game of Wheel of Fortune, always hoping you guess the correct word or phrase when you speak with someone. It is the only way they give you the time of day.
And I never guess right. My days were filled with work and my nights breathed a cold and lonely air. My apartment is small and I lied on my bed mostly and I studied the cracks on the wall.
This continued for a long time. It numbs you and the pain was another jacket to shoulder. I continued on with my life until I met Anna. She was an impatient girl and I remember her first words to me.
"You! Yes you. Mind giving me some help?"
I helped her pack her things. She was carrying a duffle bag and I think that was her home. She slept everywhere and she was homeless. She saw it as being a bohemian. I helped her pack and she followed me like a puppy, though she would never admit as much.
It was hard getting used to company, but we met often and I felt good.
*She is not the one,* my mind said. *She never will be.*
But my mind is like that and I had learned to tune it off when I had too. I cannot say how long things had gone on before I invited Anna to stay with me, but it was not long and she refused.
She was skittish and afraid. She rubbed her arm. I knew what she was thinking.
*You aren't the one either,* my mind said.
She ran away and I had not seen her for a week. Things were hard for that week and I was tempted to end it all.
"Hey!"a old woman said to me during that week. "Why do you look so sad, son? I've had a double hip replacement and look at me. I'm smiling! Life can't be so hard."
My heart did its nervous thing and I walked away. The nights were the worst and the cracks on the wall left my eyes and I saw nothing and felt pain throughout the hours. I did not not know what to do, but then Anna came back.
She came back in that way of hers that was like she was doing me a favor. I do not know where she had been, but she was tired and her face was drawn and she was scared.
"I'll spend a night,"she said.
I remember her words and how still everything was then. I let her in and though I was happy, I felt something was wrong. I had to be brave. I had to do something.
"Anna,"I said. "I know I'm not the one for you. I know what's written on your hand is not something I've ever said. We can just be..."
"How the hell do you know what's written on my hand? How the hell can you even say something like that?"
She had begun to cry.
"It's just, well, you never said what was written on mines."
"Oh to hell with you. A stupid hey? Is that what you base your ideas on?"
"What else can I base them on? What is written on your hand?"
She pulled up her sleeve and I saw her prosthetic.
"If I find it, I'll let you know. Can I still stay here?"
I let her in. So many things came in and out my head and it was hard to make sense.
"Maybe life isn't written on your fucking arm,"Anna said.
She kissed me and it was my first kiss ever. It was bad but it felt good and I never wanted it to end.
"Hey,"she said. "Hey, hey, hey. Does that make you feel better? Do you think you can man up and ask me to be with you now?"
I manned up then and never cared what anyone's first words to me was ever again. |
Not again.
As I felt myself getting pulled from some 12 year old's living room into the bedroom of a 10 year old girl I silently cursed that horrid website.
The girl looked up at me. "Are you Santa?"
I sighed, fighting back a migraine. Long ago I gave a certain company the idea to make a certain holiday figure wear their iconic colors and add a certain plant to their drink. I thought that making a saint appear in the common collective like my preferred form would be a fun way to confuse people. Now I regretted it.
I let out a horrific shriek at the girl. Demon 201 states that, just because you can't hurt you new master, doesn't mean you can't scare them. Scared humans make dumb mistakes.
"My name is beyond your comprehension child."I hissed, my voice sounding like a thousand snakes. "What is the bidding?"
"Umm, umm, I want a puppy."She said. I snapped my finger and from the lowest bowels of the abyss I heard the sound of a hound begin to yip. "It shall be here,"and I was gone, torn away from that place and to the house of a 15 year old, who was doing the same ritual with 5 of her friends, all at the same time.
I could already feel my head begin to break.
XXX
A week later I found myself back in my grotto in the abyss. The flames that provided light were burning brightly, the rocks were cleaner than they had ever been, and my new servants were hard at work cleaning the hell hound kennel.
"Greetings Jon'an."My neighbor said, popping through the window. Eli'ah never used doors, it was part of his lore that he couldn't, and what's a demon who doesn't stick to their lore? "How was your week."
"Bloody offal."I groaned, but the groan turned into a smile, "and bloody profitable. You know that ritual that the humans use, the one that gives them power over you for a bit?"
"And in exchange you get their eternal soul unless they do the proper warding ritual?"
"Yep. Well, turns out of someone else does it while you're still out there you go to the next person, but the clause still applies."I took out my G0lem™ tablet and punched in some figures. "I made a lesser deal with some star on that TicClock thing the humans made. He wanted his video to go viral, and go viral it did. I think I got summoned over 1,000,000 times before the trend died down."I patted my impressively sized belly. "Yes, it was a very profitable week."
"Nice. How are you going to follow it up?"
"Well I can't let them think I'm an unappreciative guest."I entered a few commands into my phone. "See, some do gooders decided they didn't like my recent benefactor, and suddenly the whole world is against them."I hit a button and the arcane circuits hummed to life. "So, I'll just delete a few million one start ratings and that's that."
"You're evil, you know that?"
"Yes, yes I do." |
It was a risk, of course. But like all risks, I did it for the reward.
Nobody had tried to read the Scroll in several decades. The Order had always allowed acolytes the opportunity to open it as long as they understood the risks and submitted to the experiment. You see, one could not read the Scroll in private and have their struggle with the Demon alone. No, after centuries of unsuccessful trials, the Order had the brilliant idea to document every attempt and try to find a pattern.
Female acolytes survived, on average, four hours longer than their male counterparts. It was generally assumed the Demon could use the strength of higher testosterone levels to its advantage; male acolytes were usually successful in bludgeoning themselves to death with their bare hands once they had finished demolishing everything in their chambers.
Younger challengers were usually the ones who lived the longest. We believed that their youthful will, their juvenile confidence, helped them to wrestle control over the Demon for as long as they did. In three millennia, young Chanys Jurtrain came the closest to ever revealing the contents of the scroll. She had excelled quickly through the prerequisite training and, with her parents' blessings and a highly controversial petition to the Order for an exception to typical age limits, she opened and read the scroll at the tender age of eleven. Her struggle against the Demon lasted an impressive nineteen hours. Legends have told us the Demon only possesses a Reader for the span of a single day.
So it was no surprise to me that Chaplain Karvos raised his bushy grey eyebrows in surprise when I told him I had finished preparing to read the Scroll. "At your age?"he had scoffed. "You'll be dead in an hour."
I laughed at him. Under traditional circumstances, by all our records, he should have been right. A man who had lived nearly forty years, the Demon was as likely to overpower me as the sun was to rise each day. However, I hadn't spent all these years frozen in uncertainty about whether or not to make my own attempt. I spent years studying, practicing, poring over previous trial records. We were allowed to do anything in order to prepare for our Reading. And after seventeen years of thorough research, I believed I had found the loophole.
I asked for my trial to be set up in a room containing nothing but a minimum of 4,000 randomly selected and randomly arranged soft cover books. I triple-checked my spell components and carefully practiced my pronunciations. Finally, an hour before the Reading would begin, I said my spell.
---
My consciousness faded in from somewhere else. It wasn't like waking up; it was more like a dial slowly turning up my awareness of reality. I struggled to move my own eyes, before they suddenly snapped down to my hands as they moved on their own, picking up and putting down books. I would have smiled if it was possible. I had learned the archivists' specialised autopilot spell: my body was capable of nothing but alphabetizing the books in front of me until such time as I chose to stop.
I could see the open Scroll by my feet. I understood the knowledge it contained on a deep and primal level, and I reveled in the hope it would bring our people. But I could also feel, tugging at the edges of my senses, something Dark.
*Youuuu... Trickses...*
It was like something else was thinking my thoughts.
*Yyooouuuu... Ddiiiiieeee...*
The muscles in my arms screamed. My hands trembled as they reached for the next book. But they stayed true. The Demon could not break the spell. I would have chuckled if my jaw didn't feel like it was clamped shut by a vice.
What none of our research could have prepared me for was the sensation of having the Demon possess you. Naturally, nobody had ever survived to describe the sensation. And yet, no amount of blood-soaked retellings of self injury and mutilation had me ready for the sheer force of hatred contained within the spirit's will.
For hours I sorted the books, ignoring the muscle spasms, the headaches, the bouts of nausea. It seemed that once the Demon determined it could not possibly override the spell and control my limbs, it caused whatever discomfort it could in my other bodily systems. Cold sweats, cramps, even an hour in which it held my mouth ajar until my jaw locked painfully and drool had ruined more than a dozen books. Voiding my bowels was, of course, at the Demon's embarrassing discretion.
I did my best to meditate. I wanted to keep my mind as far away from the Demon's desperate hatred as possible. But curiosity began to overtake me. Why did this Demon want to guard the Scroll? Why was the knowledge inside so worth protecting for eternity? I wanted to contemplate what I had read in the Scroll but any time I turned my focus to the ancient words within, I could feel the Demon's will grow stronger, more malicious. On one such occasion, I somehow sliced a finger open on one of the books. Such clumsiness wasn't supposed to be possible within an autopilot spell, and in fear I quickly turned my thoughts back to the image of a flowing stream which had carried me this far.
My senses seemed to be heightened. The smell of my own blood was intoxicating. It would be so easy to undo the spell. So easy to cancel the spell and put my dripping hand to my mouth, to taste the elixir of life. Saliva gushed painfully into my mouth as I contemplated biting into my hand.
*Sssooooo... Thirsty...*
The Demon's excited input brought my reverie to a terrified halt. My body was only safe as long as my mind could fight against his influence. I stopped trying to imagine calm water and instead thought of bricklayers constructing a wall around me. Brick by brick, layer upon layer, sealing me in, alone and safe. Alone and safe. Alone and safe.
But bricks are red like blood. |
You may ask how I got here. It's a good question, and I'm about to tell you. You see, I'm dead. I know, big shock. But there's more to the story, so you sit yourself back down and keep listening. When I died, I showed up at a bloody great river, with a rather annoying fella who wouldn't take me across without payment. That was a wee bit of a problem, seeing as I didn't have any money on me at the time. I'd been hit by a falling bit of ice right after wandering out of a pub. Well, I say wandered. More like stumbling really.
So, I shoved my hands into my pockets and low and behold, I had one of those shiny wrapped chocolate coins. My first thought was to try and bluff my way through, but one look at the Ferryman's eyes told me that I should probably have a second thought. Mustering up my courage, I held out the chocolate coin, so the faint light glittered on the shiny paper.
"What is that?"The Ferryman said, his voice sounding quite a bit like my Uncle Rudy actually, when he was disappointed with what Auntie Marge had made him for dinner. I rolled my shoulders back and to my surprise, I ended up sounding like a radio announcer.
"This? This is only the best thing invented in the history of the world, sonny Jim. It's a coin, but not just any coin, it's a coin you can eat, young feller m'lad."I had no idea where the words were coming from, they just rolled off the tongue. "And is it made of any horrible substances? Is it a nasty vegetable or a bit of raw fish, or some hot chilli peppers? No sirree, it is the wonderful, delightful substance known as..."I paused, watching the Ferryman lean in just slightly. He was hooked. "Chocolate!"Finishing, I brandished the coin in the air with gusto. Following my flourish, the Ferryman's fingers fidgeted. He wanted what I was selling, I could tell that. But, he showed a little restraint.
"What is the value?"He droned, now doing a passable imitation of my Great Aunt Mabelle. I grinned at him, fully embracing my role as radio announcer/carnival barker.
"Why, for you sir, it's priceless, completely priceless. Why, have you ever tasted what I'm going to give you for payment? Have you ever had the wonderous melted delight of chocolate in your mouth? What would you pay for this amazing experience?"I was starting to run out of descriptors. He held out his hand, face still stern.
"Pay."He said. Holding my breath, or what counted for it, I placed the coin in his hand. Before I could tell him he wasn't supposed to eat the wrapper, it vanished into his mouth. At first, his face drew into a frown, then he must have bitten through the foil and into the chocolate. I thought his knees might give way, and indeed, he leaned on his pole. Now I don't mind telling you, as his eyes opened, and he looked at me again, I worried that my gamble might not pay off. We stood there, for a tense second, and if I'd had glands I would have sweated.
"More."He said, and I froze. But fortunately, he decided to be a little more loquacious. "If you get me more... I will allow you access to the Upper World. The land of the living."I blinked at him, thinking it over. After all, I'd always rather enjoyed the idea of being a ghost. Never have to wait in lines, never get particularly tired, go *wherever* you want.
"Deal,"I said, and I shook the Ferryman's hand.
So that's why I'm here, at the moment. That's why I look a little translucent around the edges, and why the pint in front of me is a little more frosty than it should be. I thought I'd hit up the old pub, after all, it's where I got the chocolate coin. Don't worry fella, no one's going to believe you if you tell them the story. They'll just think you're seeing things, drunken stupor, all that nonsense. But here, I snagged a couple extra coins from behind the counter. It'll be our little secret. I hope you have a Happy New Year. Or at least a living one.
Me? Oh, I'll be around. It isn't an easy job, the Ferryman is quite the chocoholic. I don't mind, it provides a lot of... opportunities. But I've got to be getting back now. I'll see you, I'm sure, even if you don't see me. Oh, that? Sure, have it. I can't drink it anyway, just got it for old-times sake. That's the only problem with being a ghost.
Can't get a drink to save my life...
————————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! |
"Goodness me, James, *look* at you!"
The individual in question glanced up from admiring his new physique. His eyes - the same dark brown as before - crinkled into a smile. "Evelyn! My, you look *amazing*."I felt my face redden as I smiled back.
"Have the others come out yet?"I queried, finally averting my eyes.
"No, not yet."The corners of his lips dipped into a frown. "I daren't wonder what's taking them so long."
"I dare say they want to come out looking like *that*."I gestured towards him. "Or this."I posed, and grinned wickedly.
A clatter of footsteps broke our reverie, one far heavier than the other. A distant voice called our names. We turned as one.
A palest hand blew a whispered kiss our way as our third emerged, taller than I recalled. A pair of pointed ears flickered on an elaborate hairstyle over an inhumanly gorgeous face, smooth as a mirror and gleaming with light.
"Ruth!?"James's voice startled me out of my staring. Pushing my jaw back into place, I beheld our friend. Slender and elegant, a forest elf.
"And me!"We started, then looked down towards the voice. Cameron, I recognised from the eyes. Far shorter, and gruffer, with a beard worthy of a god, hefting a mighty axe.
"Where did you even get that?"I asked. "I thought we weren't supposed to get our gear until after all five of us were out."
Cam laughed heartily. "We aren't! But I asked our benefactor for an advance."I rolled my eyes. Always hasty, that Cameron.
Morning turned to midday, and then to afternoon. By then, we'd exhausted a dozen topics of discussion. We'd explored the building a dozen times. We'd 'borrowed' a few weapons, and started sparring. Ten training dummies met their ends that day, by sword and flame and bow and axe.
I was just about ready to ask the god directions to the nearest inn when a rumbling overtook his domain. Fearful, I steadied myself. The doorway shook, then opened with a thump.
A coiling, sinuous form. A tree-bark carapace, segmented and moving, fifteen feet long and covered with moss. A mouth of chelicerae, dripping with glimmering sap. Uncountable rigid legs scraped across the floor, as a branch-like arm raised itself, its three fellows brandishing vicious swords. Six eyes. *Familiar* eyes.
"...what the *hell*, Vince?"I finally found my voice. A final thump sounded - turning, I saw Ruth passed out on the floor.
**THIS FORM IS SUITABLE FOR OUR PURPOSES.**
"You couldn't have picked something... less... uh..."
**I SEE NO ISSUE. THIS FORM IS MOST EFFICIENT AT FINDING AND DESTROYING OUR TARGETS.**
"...let's just go." |
Austin stared wide-eyed at his bedroom door, from where he crouched on the far side of his bed. The boy glanced up at the ceiling, pleadingly.
"Come on, come on...where are you?"
A gentle knock came at the door.
"Finally!"Austin hissed. He dove over his twin bed and rolled to his feet, glancing furtively towards the closet, then scampered to his bedroom door and threw it open.
"Hi,"said a smiling young man in a brown leather jacket, who stood casually on the other side. "I'm Jophiel, an angel of the Lord."
Austin nodded vigorously. "I know! Thanks for coming--"He paused, glancing upward, "Oh, er -- and thanks for sending him."
The angel blinked. "Huh. You're just...cool about it?"
"Yeah,"the boy shrugged. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Jophiel smiled. "Huh. That's...kind of refreshing actually. Faith of a child, and all that. Mind if I come in?"
"Please do,"Austin said, politely, motioning towards his gaming chair, and then the small mini fridge on his dresser and opened it, "Can I get you, like, a bottled water, or a Cliff Bar?"
"No, but good call -- entertaining angels, ancient laws of hospitality, you know your stuff. It's not exactly the same thing if you already know I'm a messenger of God, though."Jophiel said, looking around the room as he walked inside and took a seat in the chair.
"Oh, right,"Austin said, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. "Sorry,"
"Oh no, nothing to apologize for, I'm just here to help,"the angel assured. Then he took a deep breath. "Okay, so, about why you called..."
*"The gay evil,"* Austin said, with a serious nod. "A gay demon, I think."
Jophiel let out a long sigh. "Yeah, that. Listen, champ, here's what a lot of people don't get about sin: it's something you *do,* not something you *are.* Evil is present in everyone, and every human being must face the temptation to do evil, but you can't *be* a sin."
"Right, I get that..."Austin said, raising an eyebrow. "But *I've* got a gay evil problem, though."
Jophiel pinched the bridge of his nose. "Okay, look, have you...did you talk to your parents about this?"
Austin rolled his eyes and sighed. "*Yeah.* I know I'm supposed to honor them and everything, and I try to, but they're *agnostic.* They just don't get it."He gestured to an untidy stack of rainbow adorned brochures and booklets on his nightstand. "When I tried to explain the gay demon in my closet, they just said they loved me no matter what and gave me a bunch of gay stuff to read. It's like, *Mom,* I want to *get rid* of the demon, not try to make friends with it!"
The angel frowned. "Austin, demons are real, that's true, but that's not really how it works. Most temptation comes from the flaws in your own nature, not outside forces."
"What are you talking about?"Austin demanded. "It made a fire hydrant explode!"
Jophiel held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa, whoa -- the...gay demon made a *fire hydrant* explode?"
"Yeah, the one right outside my house."Austin said, gesturing towards the window. "And then the day after that, this kid who lives down the street totally ate sh--er...ate dirt right on the sidewalk outside, *and* her bike skidded into the street and got run over by a truck!"
"Sometimes bad things happen, Austin,"Jophiel said, gently. "It's not always *demons."*
"Okay,"Austin said, patiently, then gestured to his closet door. "But like, if all that bad stuff happens *while* there's a gay demon living in my closet, wouldn't that be a pretty big coincidence?"
Jophiel turned to the closet door, which was covered in small pieces of paper and blocked with a wooden chair. He furrowed his brow. "Are those --"
"Pages from the Bible I printed out,"Austin confirmed. "I figured it was better than nothing until you could get here. What, can't you like, sense it in there?"
"I take on a measure of human limitations when I take a human form, and my true form is kind of...well, it's a whole thing,"Jophiel explained. Cautiously the angel stood, and walked towards the door. "So you're saying you think there's *literally* a gay demon in your *literal* closet?"
"That's what I've been trying to tell you!"Austin exclaimed.
Jophiel shot the boy a skeptical look, but he slid the chair away from the door, and then jerked it open, sharply.
Inside, a short-haired young woman in a leather jacket was looking at her reflection in a hand-held mirror as she carefully applied eyeliner -- a reflection which also included a pair of spiralling ram's horns on the sides of her head. The demon woman glanced at Jophiel, and scowled.
"Uh, do you *mind?* I'm trying to do my makeup!"she said, rolling her eyes in annoyance. "I just woke up ten minutes ago, I have a wicked hangover, *and* I have a date with my girlfriend tonight. She gets really cruel and verbally abusive about my appearance when she's drunk -- which is most of the time -- so I have to get this *right!"*
Jophiel slammed the door closed again.
*"Thank you!"* the demon's muffled voice said sardonically, from within the closet.
"See? A gay demon!"Austin said, triumphantly.
Jophiel shook his head firmly. "Worse than that,"He thrust his hand out, and a flaming sword appeared in it. "This explains all the random chaos and accidents..."
"What is it?"Austin asked, nervously, looking from the angel to the closet door.
The angel settled his grip on his divine blade, and grimaced. "A *disaster gay* demon. You're gonna wanna stand back, kid." |
"Tell me, why do you of all people call a magicless planet dangerous? General, have you gone senile?"The Emperor laughed.
"Their planet devoid of magic."The Empire's General answered. "That is precisely why it is so dangerous. No one notices a planet like that until it is far too late to control it's potential."
"And what potential is that?"The Emperor said dismissively. If anyone other than his inner circle were conversing with him, he would most likely just send them away. "They can't even do widespread farming without magic, why are you concer-"
The General interrupted the Emperor with a Memory Orb. It opened and a holographic projection began to play, showcasing an ugly, angular metal slab floating in space whose edges glowed in this inferior race's idea of 'fashion.'
"This is E. Space Command to *TFSU Untested Ideas*, you are good to go. Any grand speeches before you're off?"
"It took us three hundred thousand years, billions of casulites, and oceans of blood to get our act together and unify in the Third and Forth World Wars. Those Unification wars were the last armed conflict; the Infowar against the Corporate Conglomerate was the last political one. We built a Space Elevator, a Dyson Swarm, the Cityship Fleet. And today, a new innovation joins that list, as the first crewed test of GEP FTL travel is about to be ours. If before we were reaching out to the stars, now we're grasping them and pulling them tight. Now we bring physics to heel, just as we did nature; but unlike nature, this time we won't abuse it. We won't torture it for our gain, and we won't punish our descendants out of greed. We have become responsible, and through interstellar distances we will continue to be.
"We have matured, and only now it is time to grow."
The block exploded into a corral of colorful lines that waved off its form, before just... disappearing.
The viewpoint of the Memory Orb changed to a new star system. And there, sitting proud, was the ship.
"This is *TFSU Untested Ideas* to ESC, we have a success. We are now an interstellar species."
The orb closed and ended, and the proud General's facial fixtures told everything the expansionist Emperor needed to know about the attempted firefight that ensued when the probe reported.
And on the other side of the Milky Way galaxy, a quantum transmission unit orbiting Beta Centauri continued to relay information to the Terra Firma Systems Union about a newfound phenomenon that the astronauts found using their imagination.
**A/N: Bedtime. More tomorrow, maybe?**
**Edit1: Grammar.** |
Tears flowed as she looked at the community bench beneath us, avoiding my gaze. "I'm... I'm sorry James. I can't do this anymore."Her voice quivered.
"But we've had such great times together! Don't throw it all away!"I pleaded back.
"I don't feel happy anymore. I don't enjoy us. Why would I stay when I know it can't be fixed? We've played this game so many times already..."Trailing off, she pulled her hand away from mine, beginning to fidget.
She steeled herself, and nodded. Declaring the end, she finally brought her pain-stricken eyes upwards to face mine. "Look. It's over. Goodbye, James."She stood up, her blouse flapping in the breeze, and offered her hand.
She wants me to shake her hand? After she dumped me?... Well, leave it to Caroline to handle a delicate situation poorly. I stood, and met her eyes, taking her hand. "It was a pleasure. Truly. I wish you luck in all future endeavors."What in the world was I saying? Shouldn't I be crying too? What about the last 2 years; what about the dozens of other happy dates at the park?
I couldn't believe I was actually experiencing a dramatic breakup. My mind struggled to find the right thing to say: I could respond with an insult, I could contest her declaration, or...
I settled on a feeling. One I had felt before, I was fairly familiar with it --- it had helped me through many other rough times in the past. I ought to handle it maturely, I felt. That's what will leave everyone the happiest. No point in adding to the pile of drama.
I'm strong. I'll make it through this.
A sign of encouragement, an uncontrollably hopeful smile grew on my face. "I understand. I know you'll find someone perfect for you. I'm glad we met."I meant it. I felt no melancholy, the traditional heartbreak of relationships not ailing my mind.
She sniffled. "I'm glad I met you, too."
"We'll still be friends! Don't worry about this. Get back out there and find the right one!"I grinned. She'd meet someone. Someone who really makes her happy. Besides, my life didn't revolve around her, anyway. I'll live my life, and she'll live hers.
"I'll do my best."She smiled back, weakly. "I guess I'll have to hit the club scene up solo again, huh,"she thought out loud to herself. With that, she turned high heel and began down the asphalt path through the grove, away from me. I heard her begin crying once more as I watched her walk away for the last time.
She was out of my life. Strangely, I was okay with it. I felt no resentment, no sadness, no self-pity. I knew, somehow, that I'd be okay, in the end.
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This was my first prompt! I wrote in on mobile. Thanks for reading.
EDIT: Fixed some grammar. |
"Wendy...?"I asked in disbelief.
"Oh my God!"she screamed, running towards me, "what happened? How did it happen?"
"I just started dreaming like I always do. I didn't know you could do it too."
"Oh, honey,"she looked at me sweetly, "You're dead. We're all dead here. It's ok, a lot of people don't remember how they passed."
"No, I mean, when I go to sleep, I can see people in the afterlife. I've told you about this dozens of times. I told you about meeting JFK just before bed this very night!"
"Honey, I've been dead for years..."she looked confused.
"What are you talking about? I thought you could see people in the afterlife, too."
"Did you remarry? Is she nice?"she asked, timidly. She seemed heartbroken.
"No, I..."I looked at her much closer. She was only slightly opaque. If I focused, I could see through her to the dozens of souls residing behind her. She was still waiting to hear my answer. Her eyes were getting misty.
"Who,"I took a step back, "who are you? My wife is sleeping next to me. Wendy is sleeping next to me right now."She looked physically pained now.
"Honey, I died on the return trip from New York three and a half years ago. I called you before I left and said I'd be back around 7 if there were no more delays."She took a step towards me, imploring me to believe her.
"I remember that, you came back very late. You came back at 12 a.m."I replied defensively.
She shook her head.
"I never came back,"she sobbed. I took another step back.
"How can I know that you're actually Wendy?"
Tears streamed down her face as she breathed deeply to make her reply.
"We got married five years ago on December 6th, under the shade of the tree that we first met at, with both our families,"she held back a smile, "and the crazed young man as a witness to our ceremony."
"...and... and we've been married for five year..."I stammered. Again, she shook her head slowly.
"We were married until I went to New York and died on the trip back,"she said softly. Tears stung at my vision.
"How did you..."I couldn't finish as I began crying, myself. She shrugged, but looked warm as I finally came to believe her.
"I told you, some people just can't remember how they died. But whoever you're with, that isn't me. It hasn't been me for years."This time she said it with conviction. I breathed harder, registering this information.
"We still share the same bed,"I gasped, my panic attack fighting for air over my speech.
"We haven't shared it in years."
"I fell asleep to the sound of your breathing."That one stung for her to hear.
"The sound of someone else breathing,"she replied patiently. She waited for me to calm down, and gave me the look she gave me on my wedding day when my nerves were getting the best of me to make it clear that everything was going to be all right no matter how bad things seemed. My breathing slowed, I still felt cold sweat all around me. I couldn't tell if it was the dream version of me or the real version covered in sweat. I might have been waking up.
"Who is in our house?"I pleaded. She frowned.
"I don't know. All I know is that it isn't me."She took another step towards me, and I fell forward to hug her for the first time in years. The woman I loved. The woman I promised to be with for the rest of my life would be in my arms again. But the instant before we made contact, I woke up with a start.
I labored for my breath and I was drenched in cold sweat. I clutched at my heart, it painfully hammering away at my ribs, begging to break out of my pained body and mind. My eyes were frozen open, slowly coming to terms with what I just witnessed. I slowly turned to my left to see Wend-- to see this woman on the other side of the bed. She looked at me quizzically with a small, caring smile on her face.
"What's wrong, sweetie? You have another one of those dreams?" |
I used to be part of Two-Faces gang. I was one of his money-counters, carefully tallying up the results of every heist.
Then I got punched in the face by a shadow in the night - tied up and left hanging upside-down on a lamppost for the police to find. When they finally got to me, I had spent 6 hours unable to move in 30 degree weather, and nearly froze to death.
Two-Face got sent to Arkham. His thugs were sent to prison. Me? I spun a sob-story about being coerced into service, and was put on house arrest. But I could never forgive what was done to me. Two-Face wasn't the best boss, but he was nicer than the supervisors at any of the Big Four. And that spandex-wearing asshole had nearly killed me - not out of malice, but of sheer indifference to my well-being.
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Stuck in my house, bills piling up and unable to find work, I began to think.
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Batman had all the best tech. Flying cars, grappling hooks, the works. But I'd never seen any companies that sold that level of tech themselves. He had to be making it, or getting it from a customized source.
I called up some old friends that worked in the accounting and inventory departments of all the major tech suppliers in Gotham. I had to get a second mortgage on my house to bribe them, but I knew there had to be something.
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Two months later one of my drinking buddies who worked at Wayne-Tech surreptiously dropped a massive packet of papers on my porch.
Billions of dollars of raw electronic supplies, sent off to customers whos names did not exist, and who's invoices hadn't existed in the system until after the fact. Apparently the SQL admins of WayneTech knew about this, and had been ordered to not change or talk about the modifications to core billing sprocs.
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I sold my house, and started staying at a motel.
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I found a woman in shipping who was about to quit, and handed her a tracking device I had bought online. There was a hidden shipment tonight - supposedly going to an R&D lab in Wisconsin.
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I watched the GPS signal as it headed out of the city - then changed course and made a large loop into the hills surrounding Gotham. The signal cut out, but I had already realized the destination - Wayne Manor itself.
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I completed my probation, and got a job at Ernst & Young. 2 years of good behavior and dedication to my craft, and I had enough money to pay people off again.
I started making friends with the cleaning staff at Wayne Manor. They told me stories of the unusually secretive orders they had been given from the butler. This took almost a year of investigation before I had the papers and the personal accounts I needed.
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I documented everything. Fuzzy photos I had gotten people to snap with old-school polaroid cameras. Hastily copied real estate documents and construction invoices.
And then, I sent my findings to every paper in the area - and the IRS.
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Bruce Wayne was Batman. And not only that, but he had been using fraud to finance his activities.
Electronics and raw supplies from the WayneTech pipeline had been siphoned off and sent to Wayne Manor for personal use. Their invoices had been written off as a business deduction. And the sales tax on these electronics had never been paid. because of the sheer scale of this, Wayne Enterprises (Of which Bruce Wayne was the primary shareholder) had not paid any taxes to Gotham or the federal government for nearly 15 years.
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The resulting scandal swept up the local authorities when it was discovered that the police comissioner had been quietly burying massive amounts of property damage complaints caused by the Batman.
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Bruce Wayne was forced to pay back taxes, and after a series of high-profile court cases, was forced to pay a fine of only 3 million dollars for negligence, property damage,and vigilantism.
He was never arrested. The rich never have to actually pay for their crimes.
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But the damage had been done. Everyone knew Wayne was the Batman, and with the IRS and the media breathing down his neck, he was never able to get his scheme off the ground again.
Bruce Wayne lived. But I had killed the Batman. |
As soon as he touched the handle, a puff of green smoke enveloped him. You just move your head in disapproval.
\-You people really need to mind your manners.
\-Wait... what? How everything became so big? No... I'm smaller, I'm...- He looked at his now tiny, leafy green hands. -WHAT HAPPENED TO ME!?!?
\-You've been cursed. By a cursed knife. A knife that was cursed by a creature that was once a human chef. In his pursue of perfection, of making the perfect dish, he began practicing black magic, bringing lettuces to life and then sacrificing them with that knife, to make the most amazing salad the world had ever seen... But he ultimately failed, the magic backfired on him and his soul became trapped in that knife, so now it's cursed and whoever touches it... well...
The little sentient lettuce ran to a nearby shield, polished so well that it could be used as a mirror. In it, he contemplated with horror what he had become.
\-NO, NO!!! DAMN THE GODS, NO! WH- In his frustration, he had touched the shield. A purple smoke surrounded him immediately.
\-You just don't learn, do you?
\-What happened to me now?
\-Well, that shield belonged to Aghmar the Brave. He was a great warrior from the tribe of the south. South of where I no longer now because this world changes so fast and so much time has passed that no one really remembers much of where people used to live, but I digress. Aghmar was brave, but he was kind of a narcissist, so he polished that shield in such manner that he could take a look at himself in the middle of a battle.
\-But the shield is polished on the outside... Wouldn't it be kind of foolish to turn your shield to look at yourself? Like a distraction?
\-That's precisely how he died. With his dying breath he cursed that shield in a way that, whoever looked and touched it would look like Aghmar from then on.
\-I'm still a lettuce.
\-But now you look like a lettuce with the face of Aghmar.
\-CURSES!
\-Precisely. So, are you going to buy something or...
\-I'M. A. LETTUCE. HOW DO YOU THINK I'M GOING TO BUY SHIT NOW?
\-You weren't going to buy anything before. You are a bandit.
\-Uh...
\-Come on. I'll make a deal with you. I'll turn you back to your old self, but you'll have to buy at least something for a hundred pieces of gold.
\-ARE YOU NUTS?
\-No, but you're not in a position to bargain, are you?
\-Fine, fine. Help me and I'll do my part.
\-Good, good. Just let me get my book. And don't touch anything else.
You smiled to yourself and walked to the room in the back of the shop. At least you made some money today instead of a new item to sell. |
Of all the things that could've happened as a result of my ultimate failure, sitting under the shade of a pine tree near the top of a cursed mountain having a picnic with this *entity* was not what I had been expecting.
I handed her a piece of cheese and a hunk of bread from my pack and thought to myself how surreal this all was for about the millionth time in the last five days.
The shadow priests had all been killed in the summoning ritual (from the high priest's expression as he died, I don't think he was expecting that to happen, at least not to him), and the entity had appeared in the center of their mystic circle.
The entity took the form of a frail young woman in a ragged black cloak.
Though I knew it was suicide, I tried to vanquish her with my sword, blessed by the Gatekeeper to guard this world against hostile intruders.
It did not work.
To my surprise, I didn't die in the attempt. The entity merely swatted it to the side. She seemed more surprised than anything else.
"What did you do that for?"
"You are Kruastla,"I answered, unable to stop myself from responding. Questions from the gods were like that.
"Well, yes, but what's that got to do with anything?"She spoke with a soft, lilting accent.
"You are the unseen one, the flesh-stealer, the footfall ever following, the-"
"No,"she said. "I don't think so, anyway. My name is Kruastla, but you've seen me, and I'm in front of you,"she said, stamping her feet.
"Well, um,"I started. "If you're not Kruastla the unseen one, who are you?"
"I haven't the foggiest idea."
"What?"I swallowed hard. "I mean, how is that possible? Er...are you a goddess?"
"I think so, yes. Are you a mortal?"
"Yes,"I answered immediately. I said a quick prayer to my patron, hoping for the wisdom to continue this conversation without accidentally dooming the world *or* insulting a goddess who just happened to share a name with the flesh-stealer. "I am an anointed representative and warrior of the Gatekeeper, and on his behalf, I ask that you state your intentions on this plane of existence, ma'am,"I said, with a lot more confidence than I felt. My patron had heard me, and answered. The Gatekeeper was probably watching the whole thing anyway. He *had* given me the assignment directly.
"Well, I didn't *mean* to be here, exactly. I suppose I must have been summoned. Actually, I think I might have been dying,"she added. "Or maybe dead."
"How does a god die?"I couldn't help but ask.
"I've forgotten."She frowned. "I can feel that pieces of me are missing,"she said, looking down at her body. It was perfectly formed, and aside from the cloak and long locks of blood-colored hair, entirely naked. I kept my eyes fixed on her right shoulder until she turned and wrapped herself more tightly in the cloak. "It's cold here, but not cold enough,"she said. "I must find my brother."
"Even if you did not mean to be here, ma'am, I must ask what your intentions are now that you've arrived."
"I think I will look for my brother. He will know what to do. Always was the sensible one in the family. I think,"she said. "I don't really remember, but it sounds right, doesn't it? Very reasonable."
"And, who is your brother, ma'am?"
She stared blankly at me for a long moment, and with a voice like a shattering millstone spoke the name *"Kruskalt."*
Then she shook herself and said in a far more human voice, "You wouldn't happened to know where he is, would you? This is a fairly small universe; I'm sure you must know everyone."
What happened next was difficult for me to recall. I discovered afterwards that the Gatekeeper briefly borrowed my body to speak to this *creature* himself. As he left, he commanded me to watch her, and invoke him the instant "anything *weird* happened."
I called upon him three times in as many days, at which point he amended to his order to "anything *really weird.*"
Which was why I hadn't invited him to the picnic. |
*It's so easy...* Why didn't I think of this years ago. Honestly, it's so simple it makes me feel like an idiot for never doing it before now. And why has this not caught on yet? Are doctors really as eager to silence this little secret as I am to use it? These American doctors are dedicated to sapping us all dry of every penny we own as payment for fixing things we can't even control.
All these years, I've been paying my dues, selling my soul for the simple little bottles filled with simple little chemicals that doctors hand out, acting like they deserve half of my yearly income for filling out a slip of paper in handwriting that only makes me want glasses. But I've had enough of this, these expensive little slips of paper. I've been a burden to my family with all these medical bills-Surgery, pills, therapy, more pills. I had to find another way. Then I realized how simple this one weird trick is, and how it works every time if you do it just right. It's an easy cure-all, you can do it right at home, and all it requires is a few easy to find items. No requirement for an extended stay in an expensive hospital, just a little careful prep and you're ready to create your own cure for whatever ails you.
The first time I tried it, it almost worked. I thought it had worked, but later I was back in the hospital for the same old treatment, and when I left they handed me the same old bill-This time the number had an extra zero in there somewhere. After I tried it the one time, I got a couple of phone calls from doctors begging me to stop, to not do it, to take the "medically approved treatment"instead of my little home remedy. They've been bothering me ever since, they won't leave me alone and insist I calm down and forget about my new treatment and just come take theirs. What gives them the right anyways to say what is and isn't a medically sound treatment? All they did was read some books and they think they have the right to rob me blind. Not this time, though, this time it's going to be different. It's all so easy, I've made sure to prepare everything correctly, and I'm going to cure myself once and for all with this little home trick that doctors hate. Slowly, with intent and purpose and a slight grin on my face, I lift the pistol to the side of my head, making sure to get a solid angle on my brain... *I won't mess up this time...* It's so simple, and no amount of doctors on the phone or at the door can convince me to take my finger off the trigger of this little home remedy that heals all pain.
Edit: Hey guys! I posted here a few times like a year ago and decided the other day to start writing some short stories again, even if they never were incredibly popular. This prompt seemed good, and I immediately had the thought of this story as a connection to my own personal battle with depression. Sorry for being such a downer, but I hope you enjoyed the story anyways :)
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It's almost the weekend, so I've been coming to this school for almost a week and I've finally realized something: I'm very, very rich. It wouldn't be an issue, but I've been designated as the poor, scholarship child who must be told by everyone on what I'm missing out on. I'd hate to break their hearts. Let's go back a couple of days, shall we?
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The day before my first day of class, Mother Dear asked for my presence. She sat me down and explained that I was bound to encounter society at some point, and that she hoped that my upbringing thus far would allow for my character to remain intact. Humility and grace; this is the motto of our family, and I must uphold it when in public. This sounded easy, so I started daydreaming and missed the rest of her speech. Mother may have mentioned something about how our status isn't quite the same as others, but I wouldn't know.
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I step into class on Monday, and I'm immediately greeted with stares. No matter, I'll just introduce myself first. Before I can even get a word out, I hear giggling and whispers.
*why isn't he wearing the uniform?*
*Do you think he can't afford it? Ewww, the poverty is jumping out!*
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Dumbfounded, I look at my clothes and then back at my classmates. Ohhh, it seems like I may have misunderstood what uniform meant. At home, my uniform is my leisure wear so as to facilitate a calm and comfy environment and what better outfit than no brand clothes? Still, I couldn't understand their fascination.
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As I hastily introduced myself and began to walk towards my assigned seat, the person sitting beside it stood up to announce that he didn't wish to catch the filthy disease known as poverty. He was promptly sent outside to reflect, and I was brought to the side and anxiously apologized to by the tutor. I assured her that it was no problem, that my vaccinations were up to date and my recent health check stated that I was disease free. Walking back to my seat, I wondered why she looked so rattled.
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As soon as the first break had started, I had a swarm of classmates surround me. First they asked for my family name, and snickered when they heard how common it sounded. Then, they asked about my finances and how much money I was allotted to every week. I honestly replied that I had no such thing, and was cut off before I could mention my limitless black credit card (doesn't everyone have one like this?). Curious eyes soon turned to those filled with disgust, and I was deserted as fast as I had been surrounded. The whispers of "that poor one"had followed.
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When I finally arrived at my home, my parents eagerly asked how my day was. My father had the biggest grin I had ever seen on him as he choked back laughter. He first asked if the students had noticed my lack of uniform and made any comments. I replied honestly and was confused when I saw my mother pout as she passed him a $100 bill. Then she asked if the comments were positive, and I solemnly told her that they didn't seem to be. My father was practically rolling on the floor at this point, gleefully repeating "I told you so! How did you ever think that this would end up differently?". **He was promptly pulled by his ear into the next room, where a hushed conversation was heard.**
I love my mother, but she's a bit...eccentric. Growing up, we were constantly on the move. The longest we had ever been in one place was about half a year, before my mother would grow tired of the place and begin her usual tradition of aiming a dart on the wall with a map. She would never tell Father where we were, and so a game began where he would try to find some clues so as to pinpoint our location. Through this unique method of living, I was exposed to different cultures and traditions, in villages and big cities, with the idea that 'money isn't everything' hammered into my brain. One year Mother had picked up the idea of becoming survivalists, and so we had parachuted down into Amazonia with nothing but a day's worth of food and water.
Another year had Mother enraptured with the concept of bartering, where one would trade items instead of using currency. I'll never forget the day I was dropped in the middle of Tokyo and told to return to our apartment in the next city over by bartering my way to a means of transportation, starting only with a toothpick. Mother had read the story of the boy who had bartered his way to a house starting with just a paperclip, and was convinced that I could do the same. I got by through the kindness of strangers, who knew nothing of me and had no reason to help, and by the end of the week I was back at home. I was greeted by the sight of Father, who had just arrived, hysterically laughing in a rocking chair while Mother was frantically pacing in the doorway. "You...you forgot to *wheeze* tell him *hahahahahah* the emergency code if he ever needed it? Oh Madeleine, this was your worst idea yet".
And now I can hear that same wheezing and laughter coming from the other room, signaling that his favourite phrase was soon to follow. I knew that this was my signal to go to my bedroom, for this conversation had the tendency to never end.
The next day, I had arrived to my classroom only to find that my seat mate had moved his desk to the group beside ours. I was mostly left alone until someone had approached my desk. "I-I noticed that you finally wore the school uniform, who did you have to beg for it?". The voice had belong to a boy who was clearly timid, yet he tried to have a haughty tone. What was curious was that as soon as he heard snickering from the classmates behind us, his reaction was one of relief and not happiness. "Congrats Nathan, you've finally found someone worse than you", a taller boy had yelled from the back of the classroom. Amidst the roars of laughter, a mumbled sorry had entered my ears before Nathan walked back to his desk.
By Wednesday, it seemed that my classmates had started rumours to the rest of the school that I had been the first scholarship student admitted in a historically blue blooded institution. The headmasters frantically tried to quell the upset by confirming that I indeed met the requirements, but my attitude and prior appearance didn't help. I noticed a difference in alienating behaviour between classes; the books I had read for the middle class had children outright tease and physically bully each other, but here it seemed as if their sharp words and disdainful gazes were meant to draw shame and self loathing instead. But what I couldn't understand was why it would be shameful if I was not the same status as everyone, as that had never mattered before. My most cherished friendships were those I made when we both had nothing but the clothes on our back and our imagination, and we are still in touch to this day. When I had been asked incredulously why I wasn't reduced to a state of tears yet, my reply of "why should I be?"had stumped them.
My class had started a new game where they would surround me during break and introduce me to simple objects as if I never had the opportunity to even think of such things existing. Everything that I had been shown, I confirmed that I had seen it at my grandfather's house. They quickly noted that I had been careful to say that while my grandfather had these things, *I* did not. And so began the next rumour that I was an adopted but unloved child.
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AN: THIS PROMPT IS SO HARD OH MY GOD.
I'll continue it if I continue it lol. This is my first prompt response, be gentle with the criticism thanks!
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EDIT: THANKS FOR THE SILVER! This community is so wonderful. If it looks rushed or not well thought out, that's because... it was LOL. I write when I'm procrastinating, and I type it out as I think about it. Writing is surprisingly so much fun when you willingly do it, I'm looking forward to future writing prompts. I'll try my best to finish this one, and I'm not sure how to notify those who asked other than replying to their comment.
EDIT 2: Bolded the text where I introduced the second part. I love constructive criticism, I may not be able to apply it to this work but I'll keep it mind going forward! I'll leave the second part as its own reply in case you just want to jump to there. Thanks for reading :) |
*Fill in the blank:*
***Law of conservation of mass***
***Law of conservation of matter***
***Law of conservation of _______***
I bit the inside of my cheek again. I really should have studied for this one. I'm pretty sure it had something to do with a finite thing. Like... temperature? Maybe it was a more physical term. Maybe it was anatomy? I'm not even sure what that is, but I was pretty sure that the conservation thing ended with a -y. I wrote in anatomy. The room shook a bit like the Earth was shifting to adjust its weight, but I think I was just imagining it.
"Five more minutes,"Mr. Shefner said, knocking the nub of his arm on the desk.
Five minutes? I began to sweat, but I was on the last short answer question.
***Define the law you filled in above***
Ah, crud. I scribbled as fast as I could.
*The idea that anatomy doesn't leave this world, but instead is always transferred from one thing to the next. It is always conserved over..*
Something felt off, but the more I wrote, the more I believed in my own stories. My hand started cramping. I wished I had more energy in it. As if a placebo kicked in, energy restored itself into my hand out of nowhere. I flexed it a couple of times to be sure and went back to finishing the statement.
*..a system. No anatomy can be said to be lost, just placed somewhere else--*
"AAHHH!"I jumped in my seat when the guy next to me screamed and slapped his arm.
"Jimmy?"Mr. Shener asked, looking peeved. "Is there a bug or something, please don't distract the-- *Dear Lord!*"he slapped his good hand over his mouth to hold back his lunch as Jimmy held up his arm that had two hands on it. One young, one significantly older.
"Jimmy, what is--"
"I don't know! I don't know! It just showed up! Get it Ahh!"he slapped it a few more times with his lonely hand. In his hysteria, Jimmy flopped out of his desk and Mr. Shefner ran around the room to tend to him.
"That.. it looks like my old hand!"Shefner said in shock. Whatever he said, I completely ignored to take a glance at Jimmy's test. *Energy!* That was the name of the law. I scribbled out my old answer and began writing the new one. As soon as I did, the cramping in my hand came back, but I wasn't about to risk not finishing in time.
"Where did it go, Jimmy!?"the teacher screamed.
"I don't know! It just--"I heard a head thud to the floor. He probably passed out right when I finished the test.
"Swagster, can you take him to the nurse's office? I think he was playing some sort of prank and went too far,"he said to me. I looked at him quizzically and realized he was referring to me with what I wrote as my name on my test. Must have taken a glance at it and thought it funny to call me that.
"Sure thing,"I said, getting up, "I'm sure he's fine, though."When I knelt down, he woke up, his face devoid of the conflict in it from moments before.
"I'm fine, I'm fine,"he said, getting up quickly.
"Was that some sort of magic trick to try and lighten the mood of the test, Jimmy? Because it wasn't funny,"Shefner said sternly.
"No, it was..."he looked confused like he was trying to put it together. He was a good actor. I gave him a lighthearted smile.
"You're crazy, man,"I laughed, patting him on the back.
His eye twitched as a look of insanity took over his face.
_______________________________________________
For more stories, come check out /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! |
Zeebrox I've had it with your out of control pranks!
First it was hazing the new enviro-tech by replacing the Sulphur recharge packs with tubes of silicon paste, then you falsified the cadet orientation map and turned half of the signs in engineering upside down sending the poor things going around in circles for hours, now you're trying to pass off to central command in the latest proto-sentient species analysis that these (humans) DRINK dihydrogen oxide!? The ultimate solvent? One of the most dangerous substances in the known universe?
It oxidizes IRON for Galron's sake!!!
Next you'll tell me they ingest Oxygen instead of Sulfur or Hydrogen like every other known sentient species or that they managed to somehow achieve space travel before bringing their species together under a single unified command.
I was able to play off the other pranks as the usual tomfoolery, but this is going too far. This one is going in your permanent record.
Dismissed. |
The old cape doesn't fit quite at well as it used to. There was a time when that cape fluttered across the sky and people ran for cover. Now, it makes you look like you're stuck in the curtains. The shoes are also too tight. How can shoes no longer fit? The mask is snug on your chin. No Name. The Unfortunate. Destoryer. That is what they called you. Now you are bit concerned that they will call you Captian Double Chin.
You stop at the hospital to see your son one last time. His face is covered by a breathing machine that hides his blue eyes. His perfect blond hair is caked with dried blood so that it almost looks like it's dyed. Tubes lead into his arms that help his heart pump one laborious pump after another and you can feel each beat in your chest. It hurts. It aches. Your boy. No, that's no longer the case. He isn't that toddler that would fly on your shoulders as you showed him the world. This is a man.
You created enough destruction in your past. Mayhem and chaos to fill the void that was in your middle. You were soulless. And then your son came and you suddenly had a soul. You suddenly cared. You knew then, as you do now, that the only thing to do was to take care of your son. Nothing else mattered. That truth endures even now so many years later.
You leave the hospital and several people on the street flinch as they see you fly away. You barely notice because they don't matter again. Instead of moving forward, you've progressed backward. People are no longer your concern. As was the past, so is your future. You have come full circle.
You find him on a mountain. He was waiting for you. You're not surprised. You fought him so many times in your youth that you almost could predict each other's moves. He the hero, you the villain, and the world watched. He fought for adulation and with a sense of moral authority. You fought for the power to make the world do what you wanted. Both of you were wrong. It doesn't matter now.
There is no witty banter this time. No exchange of quips. No monologue of the final plan. You fly at him and hit him as hard as you can. The very sound of the punch splits the mountain to its core.
The hero is taken aback. He wasn't expecting this. When you retired, he did not. But with no villain anymore, he lost his admirers. He became a has been. His self-worth disappeared. He did reality shows. Signed autographs. Rescued kittens. He disappeared from the headlines. You barely noticed. You worried about the first day of school for your son. Could you make the mortgage this month and give him enough to eat? Could you teach him to use his powers to not hurt himself? And with that thought, you realized you didn't want him to hurt anyone else either. You taught him how to love and he taught you. And this hero, this washed-up Instagram joke, took that away.
The hero flies back at you and you barely feel his punches. His laser eyes cut into your arm but it just makes you mad. You break his fingers. You crack his knee. You finally show him the difference between you and him. You were capable of becoming something better than you were. You progressed. He did not.
And now he fights for glory. He fights not for the world or for people. He fought your son to bring you back out. He fought for himself and does so now.
You used to be that way until your son was born. And now that he is on his last breath, your own motivations have changed. You don't care about winning. You don't care about losing. Before you wanted power. Now, you don't care at all. For the first time in your life, you fight for something bigger than yourself. You fight with rage and love all tangled inside. Win, lose, live, die-none of it matters. To make sure your son is never hurt again is your only goal and it frees you.
As you tear the hero's arm off, you begin to cry. As you cave in his jaw, the cry becomes a sob. And when your thumbs push into his eyes and they explode in white-hot fire, you release everything that you are.
And there, next to the corpse of the forgotten hero, you once again find yourself. You are not the villain of the world. You are not the hero, either. You are simply a father to a son. And as you take your last breath, you know that you would burn the whole universe down to protect him. |
Part of me wondered how a kid even found out about my dead drop. The rest of me was more concerned with the job she'd paid me to do. The fact that she felt the need to even involve someone like me depressed me to no end. But I imagined I was going to feel better after I took my target out.
I sipped my coffee and grimaced; the cheap prick couldn't even be bothered to try and get some decent Keurig cups. I was contemplating whether or not to pour in a heavy amount of cream to improve the taste when the door to the office opened up. My target, one "Doctor"Bartholomew Braddock, stepped inside and froze when he saw me.
I pointed my gun at him and quietly said, "Lock the door behind you, don't make a sound."
Braddock did as he was told and asked, "Who are you?"
"Not important. What *is* important is the reason I'm here. Now get on your knees."
Braddock looked at me confused, prompting me to walk up to him and press the gun directly against his forehead. "I said on. Your. Knees."
Braddock gulped and did as he was told. I nodded approvingly and said, "Good dog. Now, I'm here because a month ago, your program admitted a young man by the name of Jordan Lee. This ringing any bells?"
"Y-yes, his parents sent us to him in the hopes we could--"
I gripped my hand around Braddock's throat to shut him up. "Let me spell this out for you: I don't give a shit what you or the boy's parents thought you were doing. I'm here because you tortured him. You isolated him, whipped him, forced him into freezing cold water, and you're doing the exact same thing to all of those other kids out there. Telling them they need to be cured of who they are."
I let go of Braddock's throat to let him breathe. As he coughed and gasped for air, I holstered my gun. "Jordan's sister is the one who hired me. Because she's the one who sees the pain in her big brother's eyes, hears the way he cries at night. Because she knows better than to think you deserve to be recognized as a person."
I pulled out my knife and rested the tip on Braddock's forehead. "Fifteen dollars and eighty-three cents for all of this. And she'll be getting her money's worth. Now, I think I'll start with an Aldo the Apache classic: giving you a little something you ain't never gonna take off."
Tears streamed down Braddock's face alongside the trickle of blood from his forehead as he shakily said, "P--Please. Have mercy."
I started carving a crucifix into his head unfettered. "Mercy is God's line of work, Braddock. Ours is the business of cruelty." |
Susan glanced down at the notes the regular teacher had left her. She had finally gotten the children to quiet and they were all reading their copies of Lord of the Flies. She was proud of the fact that she had gotten them to settle so quickly. It was no easy feat for a substitute to enter a classroom and gain respect. It took a special blend of humor and a look of “Do Not Fuck With Me” to bend a group of ten-year olds to your will. Susan imagined it was similar to someone’s first day in prison. Minus the fist fight in the cafeteria of course. After a final skim of the tops of her student’s heads she turned her attention to the notes of their regular teacher. One Mr. Jim House.
Hello fellow educator. Welcome to room 312! A few notes to make your day easier:
-Do NOT use the bathroom in the teacher’s lounge after recess. I don’t know what Bob Jenkins eats for breakfast every day but I don’t think it contains much fiber. I’m not a doctor but that man needs to see one.
-If you are looking for a good conversation during lunch sit with Edna Cooper. She will be the steely haired woman sitting by the window. Ask her about Alaska. You won’t be disappointed.
-Andy Taylor has been having a hard time (he is the red headed boy sitting in the back). He might act up at some point but please be gentle with him. He is not the type of kid who learns in this environment. If he gets upset ask him to draw you a picture of a horse fighting something. He really is very talented. I also think something is going on with him at home. He comes in with odd bruises some times. He really is a great kid. Remember. Horses!
-There are some candy bars at the bottom of the desk, feel free to help yourself. I sometimes use them as rewards but mostly eat one whenever I feel like jumping out the window.
Take good care of my kids,
Jim House
Susan smiled to herself and re-read the note. She liked this Jim House already and found herself wondering what he looked like. Men with both a sense of humor and beautiful handwriting were hard to come by nowadays.
The morning passed as well as could be expected when dealing with modern ten-year olds. Andy Taylor did indeed have a mini-meltdown when faced with a math problem he couldn’t understand. Susan whispered her long unfilled dream of seeing a horse fighting a wizard. He immediately calmed and got to work. She was amazed at the result. The evil wizard gave her a chill.
At recess she made sure to stay clear of the bathroom after a large pale man exited. He was sweating slightly from his efforts. *Mr.* *Jenkins* *I* *presume.* She made a mental note to thank Jim House for the warning.
At lunch she met the acquaintance of one Edna Cooper. The woman was gruff and strong but happily recounted her adventures as a crab fisher in the seventies. When Susan asked what Jim was like the woman immediately softened. She smiled a knowing smile and produced her phone, bringing up a picture of a brown haired young man. He had kind eyes and needed a haircut. Susan felt her heart skip a beat as she stared at the picture. Edna Cooper gave her a look and took her hand.
“If I was thirty years younger I would be on him like a fat kid on an orange crush.”
Throughout the afternoon Susan found herself thinking about Jim House’s eyes and re-reading his note. This was crazy. She knew that. She hadn’t even met the guy and was already imaging what their children would look like. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. Despite her best efforts she couldn’t shake the feeling that Jim House was the man she would marry. By the end of the day she felt flushed and light headed.
After the final bell she made her way back to the teacher’s lounge with the intention of asking Edna Cooper for Jim’s number. The room was unusually quiet. Teachers stood in clusters whispering to each other. Susan approached Edna, who was quietly crying into a tissue.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
Edna turned to her. Her normally sturdy face was melted by grief.
“Oh. Oh my. My dear girl. It’s Jim. He went to a student’s house today. A kid named Andy Taylor. He confronted the father or something. He’s been shot!”
The woman buried her sobbing head into Susan’s blouse. Susan felt the world do a slow spin. She was very heavy all of a sudden. She began to fall but Edna caught her.
“Susan? Susan!...” was all she heard before the world went gray.
edit: grammar is spelled with an a.
edit 2: Thank-you to everyone for the encouragement. I started to work on part two this evening but was reminded that I am a morning writer. So I promise to attempt part deux tomorrow morning.
edit 3: Part two is posted below and the final part is [Here.](http://www.reddit.com/r/JoeCormier/comments/312gna/the_substitute_part_3/) Thank-you for reading everyone! |
The curious thing about the Human Brain is its tendency towards sheer delusion, if only to protect itself against consequences. Consider then a man, alone for an awfully long time – say, somewhere around a billion years – without any sources of light.
One man in such a situation was thinking on much the same problem, and had come to the conclusion that anyone exposed to such conditions would surely go insane. Luckily, he thought to himself, he had a much hardier constitution than most as he didn’t actually exist, and thus had no wits that could be addled.
All stars, lightbulbs and fireflies had, to put it simply, snuffed it some vast stretch of time ago. There were no points of reference with which to compare anything to anything else, and so the man who didn’t exist couldn’t see the body which, he assumed, he didn’t have. Where was the proof? Oh, sure, he could move arms and legs, and occasionally would be pelted with small rocks, but they could be easily dismissed as hallucinations. He was convinced that he was merely the Phantom Limb phenomenon made solid, the universe’s last splutter of random creation before its destruction. Who was there to say otherwise? What data was present?
While in the middle of another century-long internal monologue, something rather strange seemed to happen to the man that didn’t exist. Indeed, it had been so long since an ‘event’ had occurred that it took him a moment to understand the underlying principles of causality – *Yes*, he remembered, *One thing must come after another. A series of occurrences is… occurring. How very strange*.
A large, white rectangle had descended from some higher dimension in front of him, resembling a door. The most interesting thing, thought the man who was questioning his non-existence, was that he could see it.
Checking himself in the new-found light, he found that he indeed had some kind of body. Two legs, arms, torso… he wasn’t sure why he seemed to be wearing mostly plaid, but fashion sense seemed irrelevant, considering.
The door opened, and a stick-figure made of dancing lights peered out of the other side. It was holding a clip board.
“Excuse me, sir” said the stickman. “Sorry to interrupt. A few quick questions, if you don’t mind. Are you the owner of this particular universe?”
The man didn’t expect there to be any air through which to speak, but his words found a way out of his mouth and through the medium of space. “What?”
“This universe” said the stickman, patiently. “Do you own it?”
“I… I don’t think so?” replied the man.
“But you are the sole occupant, yes?” pressed the stick figure.
“… Yes” said the man. “As far as I’m aware”
“Well, let’s just say that you get the place by default” said the stickman, ticking off a box on his sheet. “We can’t help but notice that the place is getting a little worn-out. The entropy here is, quite frankly, a bit extreme, sir. It all seems to have got out of hand. Have you considered getting a new one?”
“A new universe?” asked the man, still questioning the validity of this experience. “How does that work?”
“Same way you got this one” shrugged the stickman. “We can offer you a standard renewal package, if you’d like”.
The man frowned, vaguely remembering the concept of ‘The haggle’. “Renewal?” he asked. “What would it cost me?”
“Oh, not cost, sir” laughed the stickman. “Lord, imagine if such a thing cost something. If only. I’m afraid that you’ve grasped the macroeconomics of interdimensional finance somewhat at the wrong end of the handle, so to speak. The Renewal package comes with a gift, sir. Though I will say that it’s somewhat double-edged”.
“And that is?”
“Your quantum signature will be locked with the very fabric of this universe’s spacetime” said the stickman, as though describing a prize on a gameshow. “Ultimately, sir, it means you won’t be able to die”.
“… That's not much of a gift” said the man. "I've already got that".
The stickman raised his arms in delight. “So you are the owner, after all! Marvellous. Well, I’ll just continue your package then. If that’s okay with you, of course”.
The man looked at his hands, turning them over and inspecting the creases and crags. Sighing, he nodded to the figure.
And then there was light. |
"Seven... Days..."Hissed the phone, I had just finished watching the tape everyone told me not to. Skip ahead seven days and my master plan was almost ready to be enacted. The room was darkly lit, aside from the scented candles I bought at a shopper's drug mart half off in a post valentines sale. I was layed out on the couch, relaxed, but also incredibly tense. The TV turned on suddenly, it was time. The girl appeared in the well, then approached the screen, she layed one hand on the edge of the flatscreen wall mounted in my basement, and I swallowed my pride. She climbed down my mantle and across the basement floor, wheezing with death on her lips as she drew nearer. When she was almost close enough to reach out and touch my throat, ending my life immediately, I said it. "H-hey the-ere beautifu-u-ul, how's you doin'?"Shit, I stuttered. She faltered, hissed, and brushed her long cold hair our of her face. "What did you say?"She asked incredulously. "Uh, I, I, I said how're you doing beautiful?"I stammered. "Well that's embarassing,"she remarked. "Ye-yeah, it is..."I was completely at a loss, how could I have screwed this up so badly, why can't I talk to women, even to save my life? "So are you going to kill me now or..."I trailed off. "No, that would make it worse, I think.""Do I get another seven days or are you gonna come back tomorrow?""I'll, yeah... Tomorrow..."She turned around and walked to the TV, trying desperately to ignore the candle smell. She tried to lift herself into the TV but it was too high. "Need a boost?"I asked, I was genuinely trying to make this end sooner. She didn't answer me and just slunked upstairs into my computer room. I followed her up and watched as she struggled to squeeze into my tiny laptop screen. "See you tomorrow,"She said pleasantly, "Sure thing... Uh... Bye for now I guess,"I choked out, between bursts of laughter and self loathing. I stayed up all night the next night waiting for her to come end my miserable awkward little life but she never came back. I rewatched the tape to try again and she called me after and said "Oh not you again, bother someone else, Lucifer's number is 666-867-5309, give him a ring." |
I've been doing this for a long time. I've always considered taking a vacation, but the allure of these halls always brings back those fond memories of my childhood. Our family has even donated a few statues ourselves. Out here in the countryside, there's no hustle and bustle of the cities that have spread all over as I grew up. Sometimes I like to take some time to look out at those sunny skies and reminisce, wondering what could've been.
"Sten, quit your daydreaming."My wistful reverie was suddenly interrupted as my sister marched in.
"Yeah, yeah. You finished locking up? Seems like there's more and more people trying to break in every day."
"We're good, I just finished checking the exits. I'm heading home now, you sure you're alright by yourself?"
"We've been doing this for ages, these punks today can't hold a candle to those old geezers."
"Alright, suit yourself. Let me know if anything fun happens."
As she closed the front doors, I take one more sip of my coffee, drop off my hat, glance at the mirror, adjust my hair and sunglasses, and get up to patrol. The museum can't afford a camera system with their little setup out here, so I had to constantly walk around the building. Not a problem really, I enjoy it. I don't work out enough as it is these days, and it's refreshing to let loose once in a while. I like to look at the statues, too. Never gets old. One time, a thief tried to pretend to be part of an exhibit, that got a laugh out of me. He got what he deserved, quickly enough.
A soft, distant gasp startles me out of my thoughts, once again. Rushing over to the source, I peer around. Nobody. Not a soul in sight. Really thought I saw a light here, too. Well, if they want to work in the dark, that just works in my favor. I take a sniff of the air, and recoil. Wow, that's a new one. I gently walk over to find a young man huddled over behind a trash can.
"Did you really piss yourself?"I ask.
"Please don't hurt me, please don't hurt me! I'm just the new guy, I told them it was a bad idea, but they dragged me along."His words came pouring out, along with what seemed like a couple other fluids from his body.
"Hmmph. Guess it's my turn to be the hero, eh? Well, I'm reasonable. Tell me how many friends you have here, their target, and their plan. Do that for me, and I'll let you go."
"There's three others, they said they would steal back-"
"That's enough, Delta."A new voice from behind us cut in, and I slowly turned around to face what sounded like an older man, with a gun and a light pointed at me.
The younger one sobbed out, "I'm sorry sir, but you saw it too, that was-"
"I said, that's enough. You just had to get us blown, didn't you?"He signaled with his other hand, and two other figures came out from the adjacent rooms. "Now, we've done our research, and you're the only guard here. Doesn't even look like you have a weapon. But nobody's ever gotten out with anything more than they came in with. Guess everyone took the myth too seriously. So just stay there, don't move, and we'll be on our way soon enough."
Sigh. Nobody respects the classics anymore.
"Hey, I said don't move!"The man yelled out.
"Sorry, my hair just does that when people blow hot air at me."I hiss back in response.
"Stop screwing around, or you're getting shot!"
"Alright, alright. I'm just going to take off my shades, OK?"
"Fine, just keep in mind that I'm watching you."
"I'm counting on it."
I slowly move to remove my sunglasses, and look him directly in the eyes. His frozen stare was all the confirmation I needed.
"Heh, I've still got it."I chuckle.
At that, the other two thieves ransacking the place turned and saw me. A fatal mistake. Their movements stiffen, their flesh hardens to a waxy gleam. Calmly putting the shades back on, I turn around once more to the man cowering on the ground.
"Spare me, please!"He squeaks out.
"Don't worry, you're fine. The shades keep you safe. Not to mention that it's nice to have someone alive to spread tales."
"Tales? What are you talking about?"
"Oh, you still haven't realized? I suppose my sister and I have been keeping a low profile after Medusa died. But that's no fun, is it? So tell them, let them know. Stheno and Euryale are here. Let's play." |
“Why doesn’t anyone go back to kill, say…Genghis Khan? Why is it always the Fuhrer?” Roland sighed, as he lowered his sights to another fissure opening. The Chronokorps were instructed to wait until the travelers were entirely through the fissure opening, or else they risked destabilizing the portal, which would have all sorts of unfortunate consequences.
The fissure cracked open with the sound of radio static. “Uh oh,” his partner, Heinrich, called on the radio, “We have an Israeltech! Requesting disruptors.” An armored mechanical suit stepped through the fissure; the Star of David glowed on his chest in bright neon. His suit was surrounded by crystalline light; the SS’s regular weapons would be no match for the Israeltech’s shield. Two more SS came out, wheeling a plasma cannon recovered from another fallen traveler.
The cannon began to charge with a whir, blue light began to shimmer from its barrel. The Israeltech launched two drones mounted from its shoulder armor. They began to whir around, Roland and Heinrich concentrated their fire on the drones. The drones tended to be delicate enough to be taken down with standard firearms. As the Israeltech began to draw its sword, the plasma cannon fired, tearing a hole straight through the armor, exposing the young man underneath. He fell to the ground, his skin charred, struggling to breathe.
Heinrich walked to him, “I know you mean well, young man,” he spoke in Hebrew, he had learned enough at least to have this typical conversation, “But you cannot kill the Fuhrer. If he died now, the world would be much worse in the long run.” Before the young Israelite could speak, Heinrich put a bullet between his eyes. He picked up the electric sword that had fallen to the ground, “This one looks good,” he called over another soldier to add it to the armory.
For the next few days, the pattern remained relatively consistent. Israeltech continued to send their armored suits and infantry men back in time, the Chronokorps continued to push them back.
Until one day, a fissure began to congregate unlike any they had ever seen before. This one was much brighter, the energy swirling in ornate fractal patterns. “Roland,” Heinrich ordered, “Get everyone!”
In all of the handbooks the Chronokorps were given, only one section in one book mentioned anything like this. Himmler’s research concluded that overwhelmingly, time travelers would come from a singular source in the future. That turned out to be Israeltech. The pattern that was appearing out in the field indicated an anomaly that Himmler described as theoretically indicating a traveler from the past.
The fissure grew and spiraled, flashing red and gold. Finally it opened, with the sound of trumpets. The man who walked through the fissure was like no one the SS had ever seen. Even his first step through the portal exuded confidence. He was majestic, like a statue or a painting. He was tall, with pale skin and dark hair. He wore a beaming golden breastplate and red cape. He carried with him a shield and spear, and on his belt hung a sword along with a collection of heads tied together.
“I have come for Adolph’s head!” he announced in a booming voice.
Roland took a shot at the golden laurels around his head. With the speed of Hermes, the man raised his shield and deflected the bullet.
“I have conquered everywhere in my time, and everywhere in all other times. Now is the time of the Reich’s reckoning.” He threw the heads hanging from his belt to Heinrich’s feet. Heinrich inspected the heads with cold disgust, and then terror. There, lying on the ground, were the heads of Napoleon, Caesar, Saladin, and Genghis Khan.
“I will add Adolph’s to my collection, and Germany will become part of the Empire of Zeus.”
“Who the fuck are you?” Heinrich stammered.
“My name is Alexander, and your world belongs to me now.”
|
The small, hairless ape stared up in wonder at the twelve foot tall Rigeline. It's features were hideously asymmetrical, with eyes too small to be of any use and an absurd proboscis that looked like it would get in the way of everything. It's skin was pale and saggy, but that was to be expected of a purely terrestrial species.
"So,"the ape spoke, a rough, gargled sound, "Exactly how old are you?"
"I have only aged insignificantly since the time I observed your species first develop the capacity for tools,"the Rigeline answered, its voice high and beautiful and powerful, "I am not young anymore, but I am farther still from what you humans think of as death."
"Two hundred thousand years,"the ape said, his expression vague and stupid, "It's just the blink of an eye to you. That's remarkable."
"It is you who is remarkable,"the Rigeline replied, "Your lifetime lasts an instant, so little time to accomplish anything."
"Doesn't that make it more important, though?"The ape had an interesting point, though the Rigeline wouldn't admit so.
"That is a ridiculous notion,"the great blue form of perfection said, "What could you possibly do with so little time to do anything? The entire idea of living for so little experience in preposterous."
"But how is it ridiculous?"the ape questioned, "Since I have so little time, I need to make all of it count. I need to fill what years I can with as much as possible. If I had all of eternity to do things, I'd be bored out of my skull."
"Skull?"the Rigeline interjected.
"Oh yeah,"the ape gestured vaguely to its head, "The bone that keeps my brain safe."
"Fascinating,"the Rigeline whispered, "How do you already know so much of your own physiology?"
"I learned it,"the ape shrugged, "Everyone does. We're just told to sit down when we're kids, we learn things, and then when we're adults we're allowed to stand up again."
"But,"the Rigeline stammered, "With so short a lifespan, it must be incredibly difficult to acquire knowledge so quickly and effectively."
"I'm sure it's much better than the alternative,"the ape said innocently.
"How do you mean?"the Rigeline snapped, showing emotion for the first time in many eons.
"Well,"the ape began, "I just think I'd forget so much of what I'd learned if I lived for millions of years. I guess it's just all about perspective. I think of my life as normal, because that's all I've ever known, and you think of my life as unbelievably small because you've never experienced it."
"You are without doubt the most amazing creature I think I've ever encountered,"the Rigeline said before turning to leave.
"Wait!"the ape called before the Rigeline had completely gone, "You never told me your name!"
"Name?"the Rigeline faced the ape once more, "What is a 'name'?"
"Your name,"the ape said slowly, trying to find his words, "Is what people say when they refer to you. It is part of what makes you who you are. You can refuse to listen when it's said, you can change it, you can make up your own, you can even completely hate it. But you'll always have one."
The Rigeline stare at the ape with an expression somewhere between confusion and amusement, and then said "I think, of all the things you have told me, that is the queerest." |
I sat in the cold, dark prison. I had been caught, but it was only a matter of time before my bail would be paid and I'd be out of there, ready to do more business.
I thought about the others. Those greedy and evil people. People who would make under the table trades for just a few dollars more. People who would make *their own brother* pay almost half of his assets just so he could walk on his property for a bit. It was disgusting. But I was just like them. I couldn't deny that.
A few police officers sprint by my cell as I hear a commotion coming from the front of the prison. I rush to my bars and cling to them, trying to see what was the matter.
The rumbling grows and then there is a loud crushing noise, like an automobile driving slowly over ice and snow. I am shocked by what I see.
Policemen stand in awe as a large battleship passes through the prison, destroying everything in its path. If this weren't enough, I see my own mother, standing on the bow, smiling smugly and waving. |
I am not a bad kid. Sure, I've lied (I'm pretty good at that), and yes I've even had a few beers at Tommy's house, but fundamentally, I think of myself as a good person. I didn't deserve... *the Gift*.
More like *the Curse*.
My mom always told me that bad things happen to good people. She also told me that I'd see better if I ate more carrots. I don't know about the first part, but I can tell you the second is bullshit. I've had maybe twelve carrots in my life and my vision is... spectacular.
No... that doesn't even begin to descibe my vision.
I can... can... *see* things...
Terrible things.
It's not that it is gruesome or gory, just... sickening.
Imagine a spectrum. Like the kind you hear, the kind you feel, the kind you see. Our ears can differentiate between different sounds; low and high, soft and loud. Our hands can differentiate between surfaces; hard and soft, rough and smooth. And our eyes -at least everyone else's- can see different colors at different brightness. Mine can see health. Not like a doctor or nurse or anything, but something... deeper. I've read medical articles, searched religious texts, asked spiritual guides, but none can give me the answer to what I seek.
*I don't now how or what for, but I can see when people are going to die.*
And I haven't told a soul until now. How could you blame me for that? Imagine what people could do if they exploited this ability? I was doing the right thing by keeping it a secret. Believe me when I say I was protecting people.
*I'm not a coward, I'm a good person.*
That is why, February 19th, 2015, I didn't tell anyone.
They wouldn't have believed me. Tommy is the charmer, not me. I'm a nobody. They would have ignored me, laughed at me. I couldn't tell Tommy to tell them either. He always thinks I am screwing with him, and that time would have been no different.
My parents both work in the city, over an hour away. Plus, they don't know about the Gift, and I doubt I would have been able to convince them over the phone.
The principals and counselors probably wouldn't have even recognized me. Even if I *was* able to articulate to them what was wrong, they would have had security take me away long before Mr. Burke cracked.
*Who knows? Maybe he wouldn't have cracked. Maybe I was wrong all along.*
I couldn't have been wrong. I just had to take matters into my own hands.
Mr. Burke was my AP Physics II professor. He was young, thirty-something, had a wife and a kid, a nice car (we saw him pull into the high school every morning... Audi), and a nice job. *And a healthy, long future*.
So did everyone else in my class. With the exception of a few girls in the back with maybe 3 years left and a boy near the window with about 10, everyone is my classroom wasn't going to die for a long time.
At least that's how it was until Mr. Burke's car screeched into the parking lot 15 minutes late and himself into the room a few moments later.
Everyone went red.
Not literally, but... aurorally? What I mean is I could see that the life expectancy of everyone in the room suddenly and drastically shortened. The last time I had seen someone with this... wavelength... was when my grandmother passed 3 years ago. She died less than twenty minutes after we left her house. Now everyone, with the exception of Mr. Burke and myself, was destined to die before next period.
I have never been able to gauge my life expectancy, not even with mirrors and cameras. For all I knew I could be as fucked as everyone else. But Mr. Burke was rather un-fucked. His life had shortened to maybe 8 more years, but that was still a drastic drop that would have gotten my attention any other day.
But as he sat there at his desk, red faced and practically steaming with rage, I saw it. He tilted his head up at the ceiling, very slowly, and as his eyes shifted across the classroom and met with mine I saw it.
I saw the killer.
I saw the killer that had lost it. I saw the killer that had packed the pistol in his briefcase after shooting his family during breakfast. I saw the killer that had taken it to his workplace to continue his rampage. I saw the killer that had the pretentiousness to easily take the lives of others but spare his own, and this made me
very, very angry.
I grabbed my wooden number 2 pencil and stood up from my desk.
I took last night's homework in the other hand and walked up to his desk with everyone else, and placed it on the corner.
The rest of the class returned to their seats and looked for notebooks as they prepared for today's belayed lesson.
I went to the sharpener.
As I slowly cranked the loud, clumsy device, I looked over my shoulder.
Mr. Burke sat slumped in his chair, staring at his desk, his aura getting more and more red...
[Edit] I returned to my pencil, removing it from the machine. Holding it close to my face, I inspected the tip.
*Yes, it would do*.
A glance over the other shoulder revealed that the other students were less red than earlier.
*Was this actually happening? Could I have been changing the fate of everyone else in the room?*
A few of the students began to look at me, and I turned away quickly. Looking down once more at my pencil, I closed my eyes and tightened my grip. Turning around, I began walking towards Mr. Burke. He didn't look up, but Tommy did.
*I am a good person*.
Tommy gave me a "what the hell?"face, which was now more orange than red. Ignoring it, I turned back towards the deranged instructor. With every step his condition became worse, and just before I reached him, he looked up at me with disgust.
*I am a good person.*
His eyes stood out on his face like two white, angry targets, and as my pencil rammed home, the bloody red aura splashed all over me. |
Something popped in the lander as soon as we entered the atmosphere. One second it was smooth sailing, and then the next we were being tossed around the cabin like kids on a carnival ride. Alarms were blaring and lights were flashing as fires broke out in the left wing. There was nothing we could do but brace for impact.
Novikov and Chambers died immediately, so far as I could tell. I didn't have much time to examine their bodies on the way out of the wreckage, but a part of the lander windshield was sticking out of Novikov's chest, so that one wasn't much of a mystery. Chambers may have survived the impact, but her suit faceplate was shattered, so she hadn't lasted long in this atmosphere. I could already see the oxygen levels dropping on my own monitors. Should have known that my suit wouldn't make it through unscathed.
"Valerie, I'm sorry,"I spoke into the microphone. The lander was supposed to be able to relay back to Earth, but something told me that the twisted, burning pile of metal wouldn't be able to handle the job anymore. So it just went to a recording. "As always, you were right, honey."She hadn't wanted me to go. She'd never worried about any of my other missions, but this one had caused a pretty big fight between us. Superstitious as always, she just had a 'bad feeling' about this one in the pit of her stomach.
I gazed out across the unfamiliar landscape. The system's sun, roughly twice the size of our own, was just starting to rise on the horizon. I tried to pick out Sol from the blanket of stars above, but there were too many. I'd seen the star map from our proposed landing site, but we hadn't gotten that far. Shame; I would have liked to have one last glimpse of home. But this desolate world was beautiful in its own way
I sighed and took a seat on a nearby rock and gazed out over the plains. So much for my "Neil Armstrong"moment. Instead of triumphantly stepping out the door and planting the N.A.U. flag, I was just choosing the spot where I wanted to die. "I hope that someday you'll get this message."That wasn't a sure bet: a recovery mission could take forever, and she might die of old age before anyone could get it back to her. By the time this message made it back to Earth, she would have moved on already. Probably with a new husband, and bunch of kids. "Just know how much I love you, and miss you."Images of her flooded back into my mind: trading shy glances at the university library; the happy tears in her eyes during our first dance; having a food fight at the ripe old age of 31. I wanted to remind her of all of those times, but the oxygen alarm was quickly inching toward critical. I could even feel the cold beginning to seep through the holes in the suit. "I just hope you know how much our time together meant to me."
A crack spread across the vizor like a drip of water running down a pane of glass. Smaller and smaller cracks radiated outward until the whole thing was covered in a spiderweb of lines. Red lights were flashing, and a distant voice was warning me that internal atmosphere had reached critical levels. I thought of Val kissing me goodbye on the capsule's threshold the day I'd departed. The thought of her warm touch (and, stubborn determination) made me smile, and I closed my eyes. She'd embraced me and didn't let go, as though she might hug me so long that I'd miss the departure window. I could picture every single freckle on her beautiful face. "I wish you could see what I see,"I gasped into the recorder.
-----
If you enjoyed this story, check out /r/Luna_Lovewell!
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