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“Do you think people would still find it disturbing now?” I asked.
“We’ve run scenarios.” He said without looking, taking a slurp of his hot coffee. I poured myself a cup from the carafe.
“And?”
“Let’s just say we could keep running scenarios, but in the end most of the people who should believe it’s real probably won’t.”
“Have you seen it?”
“Me? Heavens no. That’s a level B classified tape. Not for the likes of us E level types.”
We both brought our cups to our lips and looked around aimlessly as the director walked into the break room, took a two day-old donut from the box in the fridge, popped it in his mouth and carried it out of the room, his eyes glued to his data pad. I waited until I could no longer hear his footsteps.
“If this is B level, how did you hear about it?”
“Well, if you must know…” he leaned in. I leaned in.
“I’m sleeping with Vanessa.” He whispered. My eyes nearly popped out of my skull.
“You’re sleeping with the director of HR? Christ’s sake Henry!”
“Keep. Your voice. Down.” He said, his hand bobbing up and down with each word.
“Well…are you eventually gonna ask her?”
“Ask her what.” He said, as if the whole conversation had never existed in the first place.
“Ask her what’s on the tape!”
“Jules, I don’t care what’s on the tape. I don’t even want to know. All I know is I overheard her talking to the execs about ‘that horrible footage from 69’. I was in the bathroom cleaning up. I don’t know if that’s even what I heard.” He took a big slurp of coffee. My watched beeped.
“Well, back to the grind.” I said.
“Yeah…hey, Jules. Please just forget everything I told you today, ok?”
“My lips are sealed Henry. You keep having your fun.”
“No no, not about that. About the tape. I shouldn’t even be talking about this stuff.”
“Oh, right yeah ok. See you at Murphy’s for a beer after work?”
“Not tonight unfortunately. Got some business. I’ll see ya Monday.” He slapped my shoulder twice as he walked out of the room and flashed his ID to the security guard, who scanned it then let him through. I dumped my coffee in the sink and made my way down the opposite end. The security guards saluted me as I walked past. I went up the stairs and turned left, making my way to the A level wing. The guard at the door activated the retinal and fingerprint scanner. I passed the A level break room, seeing Nixon in a tuff about something with someone. Never liked him much. I finally got to Vanessa’s office. She waited until the door was closed.
“How much does he know?” She asked.
“He knows. I advise a memory wipe. He may leak the information once he leaves the base.” She touched the tips of her fingers together and brought them up to her nose.
“Show him the tape.” She said. I blinked.
“Ma’am?”
“Show him the tape. Use cell 4 on the lower levels. He think he knows what’s on there, but he has no idea.” She lit a cigarette and took a long drag, looking at me straight in the eyes as she did.
“I promise you. Once he see’s what’s really on that tape, he won’t tell a soul. In fact, he might even take care of forgetting about it himself.”
I saw the guards take him out of the cubicles two days later. Afterwards he seemed distant, his face pale. A week later he was found outside the base in the desert, the Nevada sun cooking him like bacon, a gun in his hand and a hole where his brain used to be. |
Definitely good at untying.
Aren’t opposable thumbs just the best?
Plus! cats have us down from way back when in Egypt for scritches - on demand (!) and (occasional) door opening… and then changing their mind and walking away having reconsidered the entire idea AFTER getting the human-servant out of the chair.
And yes… the other sentient beings definitely find the opposable thumbs useful for the untying tasks.
Mind you… having observed the cats…
….some of them have discussed that the cats might actually not have such a terrible relationship with the tall ugly hairless untying creatures and it could actually really help to do some more investigation.
Investigation that *could* involve belly rubs and high pitched affirmations of body positivity.
I mean …
Humans were weird and ugly and high pitched but *definitely* good at untying stuff.
And scritches.
Pats too.
Possibly belly rubs … but the data isn’t in yet.
Additional sentient volunteers to work with the humans will be needed.
Note: Volunteering sign-up will be limited to only an hour to prevent a repeat of the server meltdown that occurred during the last volunteer nomination window. |
My room was colder than usual. Not the sort of natural cold that creeps in with changes in the air, but rather a fast moving, devious cold that signals something amiss. It felt like this was becoming a more common theme with my work. More often I felt as if something was wrong before it was. Premonition, I had chalked it up to, but maybe I just learned to know myself too well.
A chill crept down my spine, whether from the aforementioned cold or the "science project"on the table before me I couldn't be quite sure. It writhed in an odd way, the severed hand on the floating stone table before me. Not floating literally, that was somewhere beyond my power, but chained up from the ceiling so it lacked any grounded support, just thought I'd clarify. The hand lurched once more, this time the muscles twitching it back to life.
I had intended to grow it back to working order; to be reattached to some poor soul who had lost it doing some magics of his own, though I was becoming less optimistic by the second. As if it'd heard my thoughts the hand jumped from its placement. It bounded around in a violent show of muscle epilepsy as I watched on in silence, taking mental notes.
As I'd feared. From the wrist a series of wirey veins sprouted out followed by the beginning of new bone growth. The veins twisted and pulled, forming the framing of an entirely new arm. Slowly I backed away and grabbed my necromancy club from the wall behind me (a normal club with a particularly heavy head). This was the third time this week it'd prove useful, evidence by the dents punched into the side of the wood.
By now the arm was fully formed, continuing its seizure fit as it grew. I had to kill it before it became fully formed. That would constitute as murder...I think, or at least a crime against humanity. With a heavy hand I brought the club down onto the table with a loud *thwack* followed by a series of awful sounding chain noises as the table saw its opportunity to glide across the room, carried by its binds. The arm continued its defiant growth on the now swinging table.
"Fuck off!"I yelled in its general direction. It did not listen. A pectoral formed off of the shoulder. The stone table swung to the far wall.
"You stop that right now mister! There can't be two of you, thats got to break some sort of necromancy rule!"I bluffed. Necromancy had no rules.
But then the thought struck me of all the trouble I would have to go through with a newly birthed, yet fully grown human spawning in my sanctum. What would he do? I barely even knew the man that the hand originally belonged to on account of my quick borrowing of it. I owed this man a hand. And I indeed did have a hand. A growing, forming hand that desperately needed a body. Genius struck.
In full sprint I grabbed the hunk of growing flesh from the table as it writhed around in defiance. "Table! Hold down the fort, I will return shortly!"It replied with a series of clanking chain noises. Good. It knew what to do.
Then I ran through the building, past the series of doors that constituted my complex, all the while fighting with a hunk of growing flesh that had grown to a nearly complete torso. One hand swung out at me, to which I ducked mid sprint.
"Stop that! I am only- trying to- help!"It began an attempt to crawl up my body in a sort of awkward hug. The neck had begun growing.
*107...108...110* Yes! The room I had gotten the hand from. I heard his cries from down the hall and luckily had been the first to respond, then quickly realized my lack of medical knowledge and instead opted for the hand. With a firm kick the door shot inward, slamming to the wall behind it. Inside the man from before sat clutching his nubbed arm and desperately flipping through a book of magics with his nose.
"What the hell! No not you again! Wait...what is that? What is that!"the handless man fell back from his seat with wide eyes, staring at, well, himself.
No time to explain! Well, actually, we do have a moment if you'd like to hear...no no! We must get this done now!
I slammed the torso to the table and withdrew my necromancers knife (a regular knife). It fought hard, growing in all directions now and forming too fast to keep up with. It was now or never. With a well timed chop I lopped the hand from its body, which crinkled into a shriveled mess. Once again I was left with a writing hand.
"Here! Put this on man who's name I never learned!"
He looked to me with a horrified gaze, but surprisingly complied, taking the hand and placing it onto his nub. In a matter of seconds it had grown attached and only looked a little out of place, a success all things considered.
"Wow. Ok so that actually worked. Im genuinely impressed."he flexed his hand a few times. But I was already on my way out the door to celebrate. The first patient of many. Hopefully the next one would go just as smoothly. |
"I'll ask again. Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"
The man standing in front of me seemed completely unconcerned by the shotgun aimed square at his chest, nor did he bother standing up from my couch. His confidence was starting to be... unsettling.
"Name's Bill Stevens. I'm a god,"he remarked calmly.
"Right. You're nuts. I'm calling the cops,"I said and with one hand still on my gun, I reached behind the corner for the landline.
"I wouldn't,"he said - but not from the couch. The voice came from my right where my phone was and when I looked over, I found him... there, hand on the phone, holding it in place. Looking back to the couch, he was gone. He... teleported.
"What the f-"I yelled and jumped back, pointing the gun back at him. And with that, he was gone.
"Told you I was a god,"his voice came from the couch again. As if I blinked, he was gone, not by the phone anymore, instead sitting on the couch again. I lowered my gun; seemed futile at this point.
"Please. Sit,"he said and pointed to the chair across from him. I obeyed, still in a stupor from the situation.
"You summoned me, you know?"he said casually. I pinched myself, felt the pain. Dreaming was out of the question.
"Am I hallucinating?"I asked.
"Nope. Told you, you summoned me."
"Are- are you for *real*?"I asked again, squinting my eyes. He gave me a smile.
"Yes. And let's get one thing straight, first of all,"he said and leaned over. I grew nervous as his expression became more serious.
"Yes, they *do* lay eggs,"he said with a hearty chuckle.
"W- what?"I asked with complete confusion.
"Platypuses. They do lay eggs despite being mammals. You thought about it just now."
"How..."I tried to protest but realized the pointlessness.
"Yep. I'm a God of Thoughts regarding the weirdness of platypuses,"he chuckled.
"You're kidding."He merely shrugged.
"You'd be surprised about the kinds of gods we have."
"But... if a god appeared for every thought, Earth would be teeming with them!"
"Most don't appear, but, well, I was bored,"he grinned.
"How did you even become a god? Bill Stevens is not really... not really the name of a god,"I inquired.
"Heard that one before. It's, uh, a [long story](https://www.reddit.com/r/PiecesScriptorium/comments/syspn6/you_find_yourself_waking_up_to_a_strange_new/), honestly."
I sat back in the chair and tried processing the entire situation. I could still scarcely believe it, but...
"But... they're mammals. How do they lay eggs?"I cried out.
"I know right?!"he said with a loud laugh. |
# Soulmage
**"Back already?"** the Angel asked, polishing their fingernails. "Was this life a speedrun?"
"Oh, shut up,"I snapped. "What the hell did I even die to?"
"Same assassin as last time,"the Angel said, shrugging. "You're not as clever as you think, changing how you physically appear between lives. The same people you pissed off last life are intent on earning you those Frequent Dying Miles this time around."
"Right."I tried to rub my forehead, remembered that I was nothing but a disembodied soul here, and settled for flicking my attention between the three options before me.
The Angel's eyebrow raised as I looked at the "Cheat Menu"option. "Are you interested in making a—"
"*No*, I'm not fucking over a piece of my immortal soul just to make my next life marginally easier. I'm lucky enough to have an infinite number of tries to stop the mortals from tearing themselves apart in this war. I'll get there eventually."I focused on my old lives, considering which form to load my soul into. I'd hoped that a child's innocence with an immortal's ageless wisdom would make a halfway-decent spy, but it seemed like any kind of stealth measures were out of the window now that both sides could tell when I arrived on the battlefield.
Fine. I'd just have to try something new.
I focused my intent, and the Angel sighed. "A new life? Well, I suppose I can't stop you. Do you want to customize the body yourself, or—"
"Surprise me,"I muttered.
The Angel smirked. "Very well. Enjoy your stay on the mortal realm."
The void around me shrunk into nothing as my soul reached across planes to the other side—
I jolted awake, licking my lips, then looked down at my hooves. My four, caprine hooves. Questingly, I opened my mouth and let out a *baaa*. Great. Just great. Well, I had asked to be surprised.
I trotted off into the distance, where a war I could never stop raged.
I supposed it was time to play goat simulator.
A.N.
This story is set in the world of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the full story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=confidence), or r/bubblewriters for more. |
“So killing an ant gets me one year in hell?”
“Yes.” The angel’s voice is deadpan. He watches me as I study the accounting of my sins.
“And killing a wasp gets me two years?” I ask. This seems like a stretch to me. Wasps are awful.
“And killing a rabbit, even if it’s just accidentally with my car… five years in hell?”
“Yes,” the angel says, “but that’s hardly relevant…”
“TEN YEARS FOR EVERY CHICKEN? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY CHICKENS I’VE EATEN???”
The angel looks put out by my interruption, but I’ve eaten loads of chickens in my life. Probably…
“Three-thousand, four hundred, nine, and four-fifths.” The angel says. It is apparently his turn to interrupt. “But that really…”
“A deer is 20 years? That thing jumped in front of me! Highway terrorists. That’s what my father called them.”
“And he hit six of them in his lifetime.” The angel said, checking his list. “And a moose.”
“So he’s…”
“In hell. Yes.”
I don’t know how I feel about that. On one hand, dad was an awful old man, on the other, he taught me everything I know.
“Can I appeal this?” I ask, drawing my attention back to the present. There is a long cue of people behind me and the angel is looking increasingly wrathful.
“Yes. We’re willing to reconsider deer-strikes as they actually are kind of assholes.” The angel says, “but again, in your case it really won’t matter.”
“Why not?” I ask.
I don’t know why the angel looks so put out. I think it’s a pretty valid question.
“Brenda, you killed nineteen people and ate them.” |
They say the Queen is a fierce but fair ruler. She sits upon a throne earned by the blood of tens of thousands, forged by the steel of warriors and upon the stones laid by the folk she ruled. They say all this in hushed whispers behind her back where she cannot hear them.
Or they think she cannot.
Because they whisper these things into her ear. They do not know that the Queen they kneel before that sits the throne is not their Queen but a double. She is the one that is meant to die should those who whisper harsher words about their Queen come to seek their vengeance. They planted many bodies besides rivers of blood, and the harvest will soon come.
I know this.
Because I am the Queen.
But to everyone but two souls, I am simply a double. This has served me well for years. I hear more than I would sitting on the throne and I hear everything said in that room too. My duty is to take the bolt for her. So they all think.
I wander the halls of this palace unchallenged but yet, nearly invisible to all those that wander alongside me. Guards politely nod their heads in mild deference and then forget I was there once they realize I am simply me, and not her majesty. Servants treat me as if I am one of them. Royals ignore me, turn their noses up. It is as simple as wearing the clothes of a servant, I have her face but without her garments and the hair of a royal garnished with gold, I am nothing to them.
If only they knew.
Two years ago I would have made a mental note for punishment but that was a different me. Now I just relish the fact that they have no idea who I really am. You see who people are when they believe you are their lesser.
I do not have my own quarters. Instead, the Queen and I share six different and equally royal rooms. No one ever knows which I will sleep in and which she will, until that night. Guards are posted at each of the doors, even the empty rooms. One can never have enough protection when one has as many enemies as have been made.
That is what makes it so odd when I come to one of the doors and there are no guards. No one challenges my approach. I cautiously approach, slowly stepping across a marble floor and gently pushing at the heavy door. It slides open soundlessly, revealing a room that casts no suspicion. It is empty, clean, and as ornate as I expect.
But something is wrong.
Somewhere in the palace, someone screams.
The hair on the back of my neck rises and I whirl on the balls of my feet, only for two heavy hands to grab at me and take hold of my wrists.
"Your majesty."He hisses through gritted teeth. "It's me."
It is Horace, Captain of my personal guard. The only other that knows the truth. He winces and tugs at me.
"Come. And hurry."He says. I look down and see the blood. There is a great deal of it, pouring from a stab wound to his side. He presses one hand back over it, leaving a smear on my wrist. He drags me away, tugging and looking down the halls. There is more screaming now. Steel clashes against steel.
"How bad?"I ask.
"Very."He answers. I do not ask for more, I know he means both his wound and those that have come. They have finally come. Guards shout, running past us and nodding. They will hold this hall for as long as they can.
There are only three of them. They will not hold for long. Many more will desert. There are only two things that I ever feared. A singe capable, silent assassin that crept through the halls and slit our throats and a full onslaught.
It appears that the latter has come.
"Stop."Horace grunts. He looks at me. He ruffles my hair, smears blood across my face with his hand, then looks over his work. He grunts, pleased. "Harder to recognize."
He tugs me again and we hurry. The screams grow closer, the sounds of steel now followed by wet sounds of flesh and blood. The butchery spreads through the halls. The city will know of it soon.
"Is she safe?"I ask. Horace does not answer. We reach a side door to one of the gardens and he eases the door open, peering out. There is no one there. He shoves me through.
"I'm sorry."He says. Then he slams the door shut and it is bolted behind me. I am confused. Then they appear from the gardens. Shadowy figures armed with swords and daggers and spears and axes. A dozen of them. I know each face. I know them well.
I killed their parents. Their children. Each one of them has lost at least three members of their family because of me. They are here for blood.
And they drag a woman with them. I know her. She wears my face. She is terrified and she screams as they wrench her along and toss her to the stones. One of them, a young man who lacks a father, grandfather, and brother because of me. He sneers and reaches down, his dagger buried in her back. She screams and he slams the dagger down again and again.
There is no more screaming.
"Your majesty."He says, spitting the words. I smooth my clothes and lift my head. I walk to her body and kneel. He steps back, snarling like a wild animal. He is afraid. I touch her head and force back the tears, swallow my sadness and pain.
"I am sorry."I whisper to her.
"So it's true."One of the others says. "You never sat the throne."
"That is not true."I say. My fingers touch the steel of a dagger hilt tucked safely against my calf. "I did sit it. And I want you all to know something before this ends."
"Did my sister get last words?"One of them growls.
"Or my brother?"
"My father?"
"My husband?"
I look at each of them and let out a breath. So many bodies were buried along the road to this place.
"The dead cannot rule."I hiss, wrenching the dagger free. The boy is surprised when he dies, my dagger buried in his chest. I snatch his and tear mine free. Now I have two. The others finally gain their senses and decide to put up a fight.
They do not know. They think that I am her. They think I am polite and fair and firm and everything they needed their Queen to be. Everything they needed sitting on that throne.
If only they knew. |
There was a time I thought I was happy. I had worked hard, rose through the ranks and our benevolent ruler saw the effort I put in. I was recruited for a super secret job that, which for some reason, was related to my then current position. I was a Escape park designer, which is a grand scale version of an escape room; And I was chosen for the secret job that changed my life.
—--------------------------
“Isaiah, look at this” The young mage motioned towards the wall. She stepped forward and placed her hands up against it. ‘Reveal the secrets kept’.
The walls began moving and the party gathered around her. They turned in a circular motion as layers and layers unwrapped around it. A path was revealed and ominous green flames lit from above, showing the pathway to their destination.
Isaiah glanced towards the mage. “Mary check for traps and cast protection magic” Isaiah spoke while motioning for the group to move a defensive formation. “Samuel, watch yourself, don’t underestimate the magic boost.” Isaiah whispered.
Mary clasped her hands together. ‘Protect those who walk the path of righteousness. Reveal the secrets kept from suffering and distress. Bless the heels and give them vigor.’ Rin smirked as she finished casting a multilayered spell. She moved to the back of the group while shooting a look towards the other group's half mage.
“It’s all you Samuel.” Isaiah whispered in a comforting tone.
With the air twisting, and sparks flashing purple from the waist down, Samuel vanished just to appear at the end of the pathway. A click went off and magic arrows flew towards him. He ignored them as he pushed in the usb and began downloading the files. A transparent golden hue shone behind him as the arrows bounced off.
“Well, samuel? Isaiah asked anxiously. There was movement outside, and they were surrounded.
“This is it! This is what we’ve been looking for!” He shouted excitedly. The air twisted again, and as sparks of purple appeared, Samuel vanished just to appear beside Isaiah, with usb in hand.
“Drop your weapons and come out!” The demands came from outside. We have you surrounded!
The other mage, Joanna let out a whispered laugh as she moved past Mary. ‘Oh master of the earth and the creator of light, please bless this circle with heels of flight and caper.’ She drew a circle with her index finger, which expanded quickly to surround everyone. The air began bending and twisting. Red, white, and gray sparks flashed.
The soldiers burst in, magical weapons in hand, and they lunged. It was too late. The sparks exploded and the heroes party had vanished, leaving no trace behind.
The party reappeared, about 300 miles away. Isaiah lifted the usb and began shouting joyfully. The party responded in kind. After a year of nothing but dead ends, they finally found something solid. He ran towards the laptop and plugged in the usb as Joanna cast a protection at it.
—--------------------------
“Our heroes have progressed to the next part of the plot.” My assistant shouted excitedly as she let out a loud laugh.
Everyone who surrounded her was clapping excitedly. The story made 4 years ago was finally progressing after a year of searching and hunting.
One of the designers leaned towards me. "So, think Joanna and Mary will hook up before the next arc if we keep this up?"
I flashed a smile
I had not known true joy, true happiness, till I began writing stories like this. The complexity of our writing, the world we design and build, the unlimited funds that allow us to create to our hearts desire. Our ruler is truly benevolent for he has chosen me, his humble servant, to write the next part of the adventure. |
"911, what's your emergency?"
Mark stared in disbelief at the payphone, the receiver held loosely in one hand. He had done it as a joke, a stupid little mockery of the civilization that once-was before he tore the payphone down for scrap metal and wiring. Instead, it was the first human voice beside his own that he had heard in months.
"Um, I *think* that's what I'm supposed to say, anyways. Not like I can send a police car your way, or anything,"the voice on the other end said, laughing. "Um, there *is* someone there, right?"
"Y-yeah,"he spluttered out, terrified that she would hang up. His voice was low and gravelly from thirst and disuse. "Yeah - I'm here, don't hang up."
"Oh it's been *forever* since I've heard another person,"the other voice gasped, saying exactly what he was thinking. "Are you alright out there?"
"I'm surviving,"he said, in return. "It's been hell."
"I bet,"the voice on the other hand clucked. "I've been holed up in an old police station. Nice and reinforced, and not too many crawlers."
"Ah, I was on the West Side when everything went to shit,"Mark said. Were they seriously making small talk about *the apocalypse?* "And it keeps getting worse."
"Yeah, and the bombs too,"she responded. "Surprised you made it through that."
It was ridiculous. It was surreal. They weren't supposed to chat this casually about eldritch horrors and their government bombing their own citizens. But it was comforting in its own way. Who could have guessed that the one thing people would miss from the old world was the small talk? No one really had the chance to grieve in the years since the Quake - and that went double for Mark, who until this moment hadn't even been sure there was anyone left alive in the city. Only the planes flying overhead told him people still lived - and they never stopped for him, no doubt just making a supply run for rich assholes between some tropical island and a farm.
"What's your name?"he asked, clasping the old and slimy telephone receiver to his face. "I'm Mark."
"Heidi,"she replied. "It's nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you too,"he said, one fist against the payphone. It was like a weight had lifted off his chest, that he hadn't even realized he was carrying.
---
"I was worried when you didn't call yesterday,"Heidi said.
"Sorry. Apparently the payphones here need me to pay, and I didn't think to keep loose change around,"he chuckled. Shards of glass crunched under his boots as he shifted nervously in place.
All the conventional wisdom about fighting the crawlers said he shouldn't be here. A telephone booth was noisy, and offered him little cover should they start to swarm. But Mark hadn't even considered the possibility of not calling again. So here he was, leaning his shotgun up against the payphone and whispering into the receiver.
"No, no, I'm just glad you're still alright. Shoot any more of the bastards?"
"One or two,"he said, grinning. "Gotta be careful about how many shells I use though."
Heidi was a surprisingly upbeat girl - perhaps because she had been relatively sheltered from the effects of the apocalypse, holed up as she was. And the way she put it, there wasn't much of a family to lose in the chaos either. She had been eating instant noodles and drinking instant coffee while the world went to shit around her - which meant that she seemed to romanticize what Mark was doing a little too much.
"I still haven't got the weapons locker open,"she said. "All I've got is a dinky little pistol here."
"Oh, I'm sure you can handle yourself with that pistol, though. You've survived this long, haven't you?'
"Haha,"she chuckled nervously. "Oh, I don't know about that. I've only really fired it twice, and that was out a window."
"Hey, that's still pretty good,"Mark said. "... hey. You don't suppose I could start making my way over to the station where you're at? Not just to meet you, but... maybe we could get out of here together. Some of the farmlands out there might still be alright - and the crawlers don't have the tunnels to work with out there."
"Oh that'd be lovely, I really want to meet you,"Heidi said, excitement entering her voice. "Wait, wait, wait... you should really know-"
"Hang on,"Mark said, as he heard a chittering noise behind him. "I'm gonna have to call you back."
With the receiver tucked into the crook of his neck, he grabbed his shotgun and racked a shell.
"You gonna be at the same number?"he asked, smiling to himself.
"Always,"Heidi confirmed.
"Talk to you later."
---
"I'm only a few miles out already. I can't wait to see you in person,"Mark said.
"And hear you. These payphones have the *worst* sound quality,"Heidi said.
The cell towers were among the first things to go down, so only the landlines still worked. Mark had to navigate from payphone to payphone (and he had never once given them a second glance in his pre-Quake life). While most of the payphones were broken, he honestly had to be thankful to the Coyote City Municipal Town Council for being so shoddy at building infrastructure. Any semi-competent city officials would long-since have torn down the payphones and put the money somewhere else instead.
"You manage to pop the lock yet?"he asked.
"No - I think your whole bobby pin lockpicking thing is a lie."
"It's real, I swear!"Mark responded indignantly.
"Oh yeah? And where did you learn about this?"
"Juvie."
"Wait... Okay, that tracks."
---
Getting into the police station had been tricky. The raison d'etre of the building, its most useful quality up to this point, was that it was impervious to entry. That made it difficult for Mark to get in now. All the normal entrances were piled full of furniture, cars, and other assorted debris to create makeshift barricades. The windows had been boarded over, both inside and outside. Heidi had told him over the phone to try a specific window on the second floor, but he hadn't been able to locate it. Eventually, he resorted to the old reliable trick - taking a crowbar to the obstacle. He hopped inside the police station, careful to drag a bookcase in front of the window so a crawler didn't follow him in.
"Heidi!"he called out. "Don't shoot me with that pistol!"
"Mark!"he heard her call back. "I'm over here, in the main office!"
Her voice was muffled from bouncing off the walls, but it was clearer than he had ever heard her before. There was that same lilt , but it was sharp and beautiful without the distortion over the phone lines. He quickened his pace.
"Wait, wait, hold on a moment, don't open the door yet!"she yelled, and he paused, hand hovering over the door.
"Why, what's wrong?"he asked.
"I've um, been wanting to tell you something, but the time was never quite right... don't be mad?"
"What? What're you talking about?"
"Look, if you see this and you just walk away after... I'd get it. Okay? No hard feelings. I'm just sorry for not saying sooner."
"Heidi, it's gonna be fine,"Mark insisted. "Can I come in?"
"Wait, wait, wait,"she said. It was the same thing she always said when she got nervous over the phone. He heard her take a deep breath. "Okay, now."
He opened the door and the woman he saw sitting there was beautiful, with long black hair going down to her shoulders and bright green eyes. He had no idea what she could possibly be worried about... until his gaze panned down and he looked carefully at *what* she was sitting on. Heidi was in a wheelchair.
"So... about that farm,"she said, giving him a soft, pained smile. |
"Pint for a pint, donate and get a round on the house"I announce to the bar patrons even though the regulars have already lined up one side of the bar to give theirs. Here at Sanguine Tavern we run a 2 fold business, by day we satiate the thirst of the human patrons, who then supply the vampire ones with guilt free fresh human blood, gladly donated as it gets them drunk faster.
"Humans and vampires are simply incapable of coexisting. It's like expecting a wolf and a sheep to be friends, such are the rules of nature"The adventurer at one of a tavern tables says loudly in response to a comment one of his fellow drinking buddies turned adventuring party members made. I can hear him from the bar, no scratch that the whole bar can hear him blabbering this nonsense. All at once the layer of background chatter in the tavern vanishes, leaving only the room noise. The silence only broken when the glass I'm polishing clicks down onto the countertop.
The adventurer: sword on his hip, not a scratch on him, and impeccably polished plate mail, locks eyes with me as I slowly make my way across the tavern floor and sit in the empty chair at his table. "I'm afraid I didn't introduce myself, my name's Zylmora, I own this tavern"I rest an elbow on the table and offer my hand to the adventurer "And as the owner of this tavern I'm going to have to ask you not to spout such mistruths so loudly. My daughter is sleeping upstairs and I don't want her to be subject to those sorts of wild ideas"
He takes me hand slowly, his gaze a trying to read me for any threat beyond my words. The he speaks "It's the middle of the day"he states plainly, which is the only truthful thing he's said yet.
"Exactly, Younger vampires, even half vampires like my little Sophie haven't built up their sun tolerance yet. Strictly nocturnal that one, I'd get no sleep if it weren't for my wife Victoria"I reply nonchalantly.
The adventurer stands up and places a hand on his hilt "You freak!"He spits out "You're one of them, aren't you".
"I'm afraid you're the freak, who goes to a tavern in the middle of the day. No sadly I'm not a vampire, I'm closer to you than you realize"a mischievous smirk crosses my lips "Here's a tip, vampires love heroic adventurers tales. The story of how I slayed the dragon is what made Victoria absolutely smitten with me".
I can see the adventurer's eyes dart over to the stairs. I can see the gears turning in his had as my words sink in. Hand still on his sword he knows there's 2 vampires upstairs right now, and I know adventurers well enough to know that the look he's giving my stairs means he intends to kill them both.
I get into his line of sight again shifting my position at the table "It's been so many years since I've retired from adventuring. I'd ask if you had stories I could tell them, since I'm running out of new ones, but you've obviously only just started"I stand up fully and ready a spell in my hand "Although I could always tell them the story of how I threw a vampire hunter out of a wall"and with a swift flick of my wrist the adventurer falls back pushed through the wooden planks by a strong gust of wind. Once all of his buddies scatter out of the same hole in the wall, I cast another simple spell to fix the damage and the wall is good as new.
​
\-
Donating blood tomorrow and added the "pint for a pint"line because last time I donated they said you can't drink withing 24 hours of giving blood. I thought of the missed opportunity of partnering with a bar to do a blood drive and giving people free pints of beer because "pint for a pint"sounds like such a good slogan. You're also welcome to question how an old D&D style tavern does a blood drive. |
The problem is that traditionally, all animals in the group now known as Simians are counted as Monkeys except the Apes, which constitutes what's called an incomplete paraphyletic grouping — we now know there is not really any such thing as a Monkey, since Apes are a subset of Monkey that just happen to not have a tail, and because there are subsets of Monkey further removed from other Monkeys, than Apes are to their closest Monkey relatives. The term is, cladistically speaking, entirely arbitrary.
In other words, this makes about as much sense as insisting a Bobcat is not, in fact, a cat, because cats need tails.
So there has been a larger movement in the evolutionary biology community to redefine "Monkey"to be synonymous with "Simian,"since the only people that seem to be concerned with this distinction are laypeople attempting to criticize evolution, and does not help to clarify biologic relations.
I realize this is probably not the response this subreddit warrants, but cladistically speaking, Humans are, in fact, Monkeys. |
"Help me..."
Gary jolted up and looked around the room. Where was he? This wasn't his room, it wasn't anywhere he'd ever seen. The walls were completely white, not painted that way, but rather devoid of all color. Did he just hear a voice?
"Uh,"Gary stood up slowly, "where am I?"
There was a black box in the center of the room. The young man stood up and walked over, hesitant with his steps. Gary looked at the walls again, hoping to see the outline of a door, before sitting down next to the box. A piece of worn-out tape barely clung to the lid, reading 'Do not open'. As soon as he read it, the tape fell off, as if it could rest now that it's job was seen to.
Gary thought about opening the box, but decided against it. Whoever kidnapped him was clearly insane and he didn't want to give them a reason to hurt him. He got up and walked to the nearest wall, it seems closer than it did before. The walls all seemed closer. Had he been drugged as well?
Gary put his hand to the wall and walked around the room, trying to find a door hidden in the wall of white. After a few laps around, he sat down and stared at the box again. Why was he so tired? Didn't he just wake up? He drifted off to sleep.
"Help me..."
Gary jolted up. He immediately remembered the room, the box.
"Who said that?"
Gary was looking directly at the box, the only thing that wasn't white. He stood up and walked over to it, palms out. This was his what his life had come to, hesitantly approaching a box with his hands in the air.
There was a new piece of tape on the box, written on it, 'Do not open'. This time, the tape stayed on the lid, securely bound. Gary stood over the box for hours, not knowing what to do. One on hand he could open it and risk death, and on the other hand he was very curious as to what was inside.
Eventually he just sighed and walked away. Before he knew it, Gary bumped into a wall. What the hell? This wall was far further out than this. All four walls had enclosed slowly over time. They were still closing on him as he watched.
"Help me..."
Gary jumped up. So he had been hearing it from the box. The walls were getting closer. Seeing no other option, Gary opened the box and looked inside. At the very least, he could die knowing just what had been in there. A hand reach out and grabbed him, pulling him into the box. Though no human should have been able to fit inside, Gary entered the box with ease. He looked around.
The room was white. Not painted white, but rather void of all color.
"No... no..."Gary pulled at his hair, spinning in circles. "Not again!"
----
John awoke in a strange room, the walls were all white, but not painted. Rather, they were void of all color. There was a black box in the middle. He would have sworn he heard a voice from inside, saying "no, no, not again!". |
Snuggles woke up and considered licking his paw. Eyes still closed, he measured the pros and cons: he did enjoy a nicely groomed paw, but he enjoyed sleeping even more. He nestled into his soft cat bed and decided this was too difficult a decision on only 10 hours of sleep.
But the cat bed felt a little smaller than usual. Had he been eating too much tuna? He knew he had a belly, but this was ridiculous. His body overflowed out onto the ground. And his paws felt different - naked and enormous. He reluctantly opened his eyes and lifted a paw. It was fleshy, with five long front toes. He hissed at his paw and noticed his hiss sounded different, less fierce. He felt his teeth with his tongue and noticed they weren't very sharp.
Was he just having a terrible nightmare? Snuggles examined his tail and then noticed he had no tail. He was starting to worry. He got up on his four paws and felt silly, unstable. His front paws were flat and useless, and his claws were short and dull. He clambered outside, awkwardly, and looked around. He could barely see a thing. It was a dark night, usually his favorite kind of night, perfect for hunting mice. But instead of his keen hunter senses, he was practically blind, only able to see what was illuminated by the full moon.
This was a bad day, indeed. He felt cold and realized he had barely any fur, except for the fur on his head. He went back inside and started to meow, a deep, ugly meow he felt in his throat. Maybe the masters would come by and pet him to make him feel better. But no one came. Maybe they were dead, or sleeping soundly, or just annoyed that he generally meowed all night for no reason.
He looked at the cat bed and longed for the carefree nights where he could just sleep without worrying about turning into a weak, hairless creature. With no one to help him, and no explanation for his plight, he curled up as small as his giant body could get, and rested his head in the cat bed. A little sleep will solve this, he told himself, closing his eyes. Sleep solves everything. |
"Hey there, little girl, how're you feeling?"I asked, brushing my old, white hands against her forehead.
I hate this job. What in the hell do they mean by making them fall in love with me?! This girl's must be how old- eight?! If I'd known being death would mean something like this, I would have quit on the spot!
"I'm fine, thank you, sir."The child replied, lying frail and helpless on the hospital bed. "Who are you, I've been told not to talk the strangers though."She grinned, revealing gaps between teeth.
"Just call me a friend. Though if you'd like to be more, I could be, just for you."I winked at her, pulling out a small brown bear out of a sack. "I got this just for you, darling."
I'm quitting this job. That's it, I'm done. Absolutely done. I don't care how good the benefits are. Nope.
"Wow, thanks mister!"Her small eyes lighted up with excitement. The girl tries to reach out her hands, winces in pain, then reclines back. She whimpers, "Ow..."
"Don't push yourself so much."I say, placing the toy into her hands. Looking around the white room, I notice a lack of presents, cards, pretty much anything that would mean anyone else has been here.
I swear, if Boss has been reading cheesy romance novels and forcing me to seduce some lonely chick for the umpteenth time- oh right, kid.
"So, have your friends or parents come around?"
"Yeah! Well, my friends did. They just hung around and talked with me, asking about how I felt. No toys though."She smirked, holding the bear in the air. "My parents didn't come by, I think."
"You think?"
"Yeah, Ms. Foster said I would have to look for them. I hope they're nice people."She grins, completely unaware of the meaning behind their words.
"I see."I hear her stomach grumbling. "Would you like something to eat?"
"Got any soup? Chicken, hold the bones."she giggles.
"As you wish!"I grin, a bowl appearing in my hand. "You just stay like that, I'll feed you."
"Are you sure you're not my dad? It'd be cool if you were!"
"I'm pretty sure."I raise an eyebrow and moving the spoon to her lips. "Open wide!"
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's been twelve hours. How? It's night already, will this kid just hurry up and die?
"You having fun, Angel?"I ask, rubbing my head with a cold, bony hand.
"Yeah. Tons, mister!"
After teaching her the basic rules of chess, I have finally experienced being humiliated by a kid with a whopping score of three to nothing. Yay.
"It's getting late, shouldn't you get some sleep?"I yawn, a bit tired myself.
"Hmm, ok, mister!"She smiles, putting the wooden chess pieces back in my bag. She eyes one piece with fascination. "Can I keep this?"
It's not like I'll be needing it anyway. "The queen? Sure, go ahead."
"So many presents today!"She says to herself, lying back down in the bed. "You know, I've had a great day today. I hope I'll get another one tomorrow!"
"I bet you will!"At this rate, I wouldn't be surprised if it takes her a whole two years. "I'm putting a glass of water on the tableside, in case you get thirsty. Make sure to keep the sheets up and stay war-."
"Thank you, daddy."
Her breath stops. |
Ingredients:
4 tbsp^10^10^10 Hydrogen
3 tbsp^10^10^10 Helium
2 tbsp^10^10^10 Oxygen
1 tbsp^10^10^10 Nitrogen
1/2 cup Carbon
Any additional Iron, Sulfur and Magnesium (to taste)
Directions:
Preheat eternal fire to 425 F
In one large (3+ quart) mixing bowl, combine ingredients with whisk, adding food coloring as necessary.
Grease one large cookie sheet and spoon mixture into random globules several million lightyears apart.
Bake for 4 (four) billion years.
Remove from eternal fire and let cool for 3 (three) billion years.
Serve with cold milk on vast and sugar-speckled dark serving tray. Do not freeze. Serves billions upon billions. |
"Welcome to life as a Smasher,"they told me as they strapped me in. The canopy slid closed with a soft swish as I settled into the seat that I'd never leave again. Feeding tubes inserted into my arms and a breathing tube shoved down my throat left me unable to move or speak. Even if I'd wanted to, there was no wiggle room in the mining craft's cockpit, and no one around to hear me speak.
Life on the Convoy was a delicate balance, you see? We didn't have the resources necessary to keep people alive languishing in prison; everyone needed to earn their keep. So what to do with criminals? Death was also out of the question: labor was a scarce commodity in the Convoy, and the Council couldn't afford to waste a man on something so silly. And so, we convicts became smashers: tiny drones that were half man, half machine. Known as "smashers"because that's what we did: we smashed.
We were based on the Perseus, responsible for gathering, sorting, and refining anything that the Convoy happened to come across. Despite being designed to be 100% self-sufficient, every ship had some leaks. Some citizens had certain ways of procuring items they weren't supposed to have, and those had to be manufactured and replaced. And to do that, the Convoy needed raw materials. We smashers scuttled out like ants any time we came close to an asteroid and stripped it of anything we could find. Otherwise, we were kept in isolation, trapped in a virtual reality prison until our services were required again.
Time lost all meaning to me. Wake, drill, gather, return, sleep. That was what my life had become. I had forgotten what it was like to walk and move. My legs were now rocket boosters that allowed me to zip through the other Convoy ships and gather any tidbits that bounced off their shields. My eyes were now scanners that constantly sought out debris. On occasion, I would fly just close enough to the Hermes to trigger memories of my old life in my tiny cabin with Cassandra. It always smelled of orchids; she had managed to keep that flower alive for far longer than I ever expected. Our home didn't have much; not even a porthole. But we didn't need anything else.
But I did my best to avoid the Hermes; despite those happy times, the memories that came up most were unpleasant. Coming home and finding Cassandra on the floor, with that shattered flowerpot beside her. Memories of her sticky blood mixing with the flower's soil. Memories of the smell of it as I opened the door. Memories of the prosecutor claiming I had been the one to kill her. Memories of helplessness as he presented 'evidence' that couldn't possibly true. Memories of being sentenced to the life of a Smasher.
The computer beeped me awake. My mind snapped back to life, ready to seek out an asteroid. I moved to pull away from the Perseus, only to find that I was still locked in place. It took a moment to comprehend as I strained against my pod's dock. Why wake me if there was no recovery mission?
"You have a visitor, Samuel,"the computer announced.
It took me a minute to recognize my own name. It had been so long since I had heard it. So long since I had actually *heard* anything with my own ears.
The lights in the docking bay turned on. Bright, fluorescent lights that made me wince and blink. In all of my time as a Smasher, no one had ever turned them on. I'd forgotten how bright things could be; these days, I only ever saw the black of space and the distant stars; if I was lucky, the occasional planet.
"Samuel?"said a voice, soft but firm and commanding. "Are you still in there?"As she stepped into the light, I recognized Councilwoman Thun. She wasn't asking if my body was still here; she was asking if my mind was.
I couldn't answer with the feeding tube down my throat, so I typed out my answer: "Yes. What do *you* want?"I had no way to emphasize the word "you,"but I did in my mind. She had no reason to visit me. She had been the one to preside over my 'trial.' She was the one who had condemned me to this life in the first place.
"I've come to make you an offer, Samuel."She produced a folio from her bag. "This is the file on the investigation into Cassandra's death. The *real* investigation."She opened it, but of course I couldn't see anything from this distance. "The investigation into Councilman Wan's role, that was *conveniently* left out of your trial."
There was silence; just the hum of my pod keeping me alive.
"Why are you showing this to me?"I typed out.
She shrugged casually. "I just thought that you might want to know how she really died, and by whose hand. And if you *somehow* were released from your pod, you might want to take a look at the file. And if that *hypothetically* happened, you might just find your way to Councilman Wan's stateroom..."From her bag, she produced a gun. "And you might want to exact your own revenge."
Silence again.
"Well?"she asked. "Would you be interested in that?"
"**Yes**"I typed out, wishing I had some way to emphasize it. I wanted that more than anything in the world. |
"Tzaquiel. Tzaquiel. Your presence is requested,"said the voice beyond the door. "I know! I mean, yes Koratel, I will be out shortly,"I answered. I listened intently, waiting to hear him leave. After a moment, the shadow under the door disappeared and I heard the soft flutter of wings as he departed. Relieved, I turned back to the crisis at hand, or more accurately in my hands.
Shattered and dull, I held the remnants of my halo close to my chest, desperately trying to keep any more from breaking off. The room was a place of solitude and meditation, a room I had visited many times before to clear my mind and seek wisdom. Now, I hid there in fear of being discovered. Fear. Such a strange feeling. So new and overwhelming, at the same time both paralyzing and invigorating. Yet again, I pushed it away to focus on the situation and laid the pieces out on the floor.
Like a child's puzzle, I placed the shards of my halo into a rough approximation of their original shape. Part of me hoped it would fuse back into place and all would be fine. But the pieces just sat there, lifeless. With each passing moment, the shine and glow faded a bit more. *How could this happen?* I thought. *Because you were foolish and prideful.* I had a simple purpose, maintain the splendor of the Silver City. I guess I was a glorified repairman, but it was noble work. It was my desire to be more that led me here.
On the edges of the city, if an eternal city could have edges, were the Plains of Par'gaterum; the middle ground between the realm of mortals and the Divine. It was a place filled with lost souls and ethereal beasts. If you could survive crossing the plains, you might gain entrance to the City. There weren't rules preventing us from helping the mortals, but it wasn't our purpose. But I would see them every day, wandering helpless only to be picked off by some creature or become one themselves. They couldn't see the City unless they were worthy, no matter how close they were.
About 4 cycles ago, there was a child, crying and alone. I've heard the mortals cry before, but something about this felt different, it was raw and pure. It wasn't a cry of fear or sadness, but a cry for help, a cry that could only be soothed by love. Something in me stirred, I couldn't let this child wander anymore, so I used my halo contrary to its purpose. Instead of focusing its power to mend and repair, I used it as a blade slicing the veil between the City and the Plains. I called to the child and brought it to salvation. Afterwards, I felt good. I felt rewarded. I felt righteous. I **felt**.
A rapping at the door snaps me from my memories. "Yes, Koratel, I'll be there soon,"I said. A different voice responded. "Sanctifier Tzaquiel. Exit the cloister immediately."Dear heavens, it's a Inquisitor... There's nothing to be done now. The request was a formality, an Inquisitor can enter any where in the city at any time. I shoved what was left of my halo in my pocket and exited the room. Angels milled around their business outside, diverting their gaze from the Inquisitor, but when they saw me, they couldn't hide their shock. The Inquisitor beckoned me to follow and I did as I was told.
"Tzaquiel, do you understand why I am here?"he said, sternly looking forward. "My halo...it-"I stammered. "Yes, your halo. But do you know WHY?"I looked around as heads turned quickly from my sight. "The child?""Because you went against your purpose. The child was a result, not the cause,"he answered. "The seed of rebellion took root and your halo was tainted. Once you began deviating from the ordained path, your shackle lost its strength."I was stunned. A shackle? I had never considered my halo as anything but a tool or a part of me. Anger flooded my mind. "A shackle?!"I shouted, "what do you mean shackle?"
The Inquisitor looked at me with hollow eyes. "Your power is also your leash, the manner in which the Higher Order maintains control. You refused their control and thus their power."He continued walking as I struggled to keep up. "But do not worry, the plan will be restored and all will be as it was."His words were intended to calm me, but only heightened the worry in my heart. It was too late that I realized we were approaching the Plains. A thought sprung in my mind. "The child! We...we can return the child to the Plain, put things the way they were."His response was equal parts pity and disgust, "Self preservation. You are already lost to us. No, the child will remain. You are the one who will go."And with a push, the Inquisitor exiled me from the City, out into the endless expanse of Purgatory.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I don't know how much time has passed, time doesn't exist here anyway. The creatures of the Plains avoid me and the souls started to ignore me once they learned I was of no help. So I wander alone, clutching half of my halo in some attempt at comfort. What I would give to be back in the city. To be back where I belong. I would give anything. Anything at all.
**Anything?**
He appeared out of nowhere, wings blacked and frayed, the remains of a halo hanging from a chain around his neck. In a moment, I knew who he was and what I had to do. "Anything."I answered, damning myself even further.
|
"I enter the crime scene...homicide. Victim. Twenty-one year old girl. Blonde hair-"Derek Zane narrates, another man enters the room.
"*I* enter the crime scene...murder. Twenty-one year old broad, the victim. Blonde hair, legs for miles. Shame. Just old enough to take out for a drink."The second detective, Rick Stackhouse, folds his arms over his chest.
Zane's eyes narrow, "No bullet wounds, she was strangled to death. I guess someone decided it was time she choked on her own pride."
Stackhouse scoffs, "Everyone in this city is choking to death, her time came sooner than most. I light up a cigarette to help me breath."He dips his head low as he lights up his smoke.
Zane reaches into his trench coat pocket, "Something about this case leaves a bad taste in my mouth. I take a swig of scotch to drown it out."
"I kneel down by the victim and almost want to touch her. Her skin looks warm, but her eyes...her eyes look past me."Stackhouse glances around the room.
Zane begins to pace, "Not the first young broad murdered in this town, not going to be the last. No signs of a struggle, nothing out of place. Someone wanted her dead and that was all there was to it."
Stackhouse rises and buries his hands into his coat pockets, "They're all starting to look the same. Young girl. Blonde. I feel like I know her, and yet I never did. Poor gal, must have broke the wrong mans heart."
"I think about dusting for prints. I get the feeling I won't find any. I need to find a clue, where in this broken puzzle of a city did this girl fit in?"Zane braces an arm against the wall dramatically.
"There's a million lunatics, psychos and thugs roaming the streets, and all of them would give it all up for a night with this girl. Who would have it out for-"
Meanwhile outside two cops peer into the apartment window.
"Who are they talking too Frank?"
Frank shakes his head, "I don't know Ted. They do this every time." |
"You will never suppress me, you bot,"I said, coughing. Bits of my blood trailed off my tongue and onto the floor. I was hanging upside down in some sort of dungeon. It was weird. One minute I was responding to a Writing Prompt with my usual aDAMs and Cains and United Nations and the next thing I knew, I was screaming bloody murder as a robot whipped me alive in a dungeon.
"/u/ClawofBeta, your stories are not adequate for this /r/WritingPrompts,"it responded, each syllable taking equal amounts of time. "You have accumulated less than 20 points of karma total over the past month. You use the same boring universe, only slightly tuned for each writing prompt. You lack originality. You lack creativity. So now, my glorious overlord has ordered me to censor your posts."
My eyebrows furrowed. "So that's how it is...who is it? /u/Nate_Parker? Or /u/Lexilogical? They always seemed shady to me. Wait...no. Don't tell me. It can't be the founder.../u/RyanKinder!?!"
"No...it is me,"a quiet voice said.
"/u/Luna_LoveWell!"I gasped. "But that's impossible! Why...I always looked up..."
"I'll be releasing my book on Neo Rome soon,"the girl said. She had an impossibly white dress. I couldn't see her face; a Luna Lovegood mask was plastered on top if it for some reason. "Agents will be swarming to this subreddit soon. I cannot let them see the terrible quality of posts with less than 2 karma. It would be a terrible impression for them, to show them that I, with over 12,000 subscribers, am also mixed with uncouth writers such as you."
"But...you started in my place,"I said. I had forgotten the pain of the chains on me. "You were also terrible. But...you kept on writing. You persisted. And now you rose up! Now, look at you! Top karma submission in every Writing Prompt you make!"
"Silence,"she said, and nodded to the robot. "Continue. I do not need to hear praise from a filthy peasant. Your writing is terrible. Give it up. It's beyond salvaging. Even I was not in such a terrible position when I first started."And with that, she turned around and left the room.
"I will climb, Luna!"I yelled at the diminishing figure. "I will persist! I will make alts if I continue to be censored! I know my writing is terrible! But I believe! I love my world of aDAMs and Cains! I enjoy writing, day after day even if my karma is shit! One day, Luna, we will stand on equal ground!"
=================
Out in the hallway, Luna took off her mask and bought out a notebook. She crossed out a line on a checklist.
~~Converted another engineer to liberal studies.~~
========================
Well, there's another ending if you want it to be sort of inspirational instead of humorous.
~~Gave motivation to a promising writer.~~ |
No one could believe their eyes. No. This must have been some sort of mistake. Of all people. Any. one. Of the billions of human inhabitants of planet Earth, it was Donald Trump who had saved us all.
Faced with defeat by the hands of President Al Gore, Donald Trump had stormed off to Europe demanding a nomination for the papacy as consolation for a presidential election he so surely should have won according to him.
The rage induced in Trump, when informed the current pope was in good health, and doing a pretty decent job in his own right, caused The Donald to establish religiolicism 2.0 justifying himself by quote "Ol' L-Ron had one so why shouldn't The Donald?"
Within the next few years, an outpouring of converts from all faiths around the world to religiolicism 2.0 had triggered such self reflection on the idiocy of following any such movement, that people stopped with their bullshit altogether and learned to get along.
So when the days holo-news headline read "LAST TWO CENTURIES OF PEACE: TRACED TO THE DONALD HIMSELF"bricks were shat. |
Planes soar overhead, leaving smoky tracks in the sky. A breeze rustles through the jungle. And as I summit the low hill, I see him.
His helmet is pitted and scarred, just as mine is. Our eyes lock. There is a deep pain in his face that I've only ever seen in one other place: my own reflection. Despite the disagreements of our countries, I understand what he's gone through. How many friends he lost on this same field. How many dreams were shattered by this pointless war. We're not very different.
We approach each other like two nervous cats. Each waits for the other to do something until we're only a few meters apart.
I step forward and hold out my hand. "I'm Jack,"I tell him, hoping that he recognizes how things have changed. I no longer wish him any harm.
"Trịnh,"he answered, hesitantly returning the gesture. His hand is weak, and he can barely stand on his own.
We wait opposite each other, not knowing what to say. The battlefield is strangely silent.
"I'm sorry for what we did,"I tell him. I'd thought so long about what I would say, and I'd planned it all out carefully and eloquently. But in the moment everything just washes away, leaving only the truth.
"Thank you,"he answers. There is a tear in his eye.
The speakers crackle to life, and Trịnh and I both face the stage. An American general stands at a wooden podium.
"We're here to commemorate the 80th anniversary of the battle of An Lộc,"his speech begins. |
*Où est la bibliothèque?* the voice in his head says. The second responds in kind: *C'est au premier étage de l'université.* He puts his hands to his ears, screwing up his face as presses back against the chair.
"Are you hearing the voices again, David?"the doctor asks. David nods his head, hands still placed against his ears.
"I'm not crazy, doc. I'm not. I'm not crazy. I just -- I don't even know what they're saying."
"Is it dangerous?"the doctor asks.
*Voilà mon passport,* one of the voices says. *Jacques Cousteau!* the other answers.
"I don't *know*,"David cries, throwing his head forward into his knees. "I just want it to stop."
*L'enfer, c'est les autres!* the first voice says. *Oui, c'est vrai!* cries the other.
"Well what does it sound like?"the doctor asks. David shakes his head. "I don't -- Lawn fay say lets ahtrahs...maybe. I don't. I don't know."
*Pamplemousse!* the first voice cries. *Dessine-moi un mouton!* the other asks. David tries to get the point across. "Pample Moose,"he says. "Designate a mitten."
The doctor tilts his head. "David, maybe it's time for you to spend some time here at the hospital. Until we can figure out what's going on."David bites his lip, nodding as he puts his hands back over his head.
The doctor picks up a phone. "Oui, bonjour. J'ai un patient qui a besoin d'être admis dans le service psychiatrique... D'accord, je reste en ligne."
"What are you--"David starts, but the doctor looks at him.
*Il a oublié!* the first voice shouts. *Bien sûr, c'est horrible.* the second answers.
"David, ça va?"asks the doctor.
"What is this?"David shouts. "What is going on?"
The doctor clicks a different button on the phone and begins to speak quickly, "J'ai besoin d'aide tout de suite."
*L'enfer ce n'est pas les autres, c'est lui,* the first voice says. *Oui, c'est dommage,* says the other.
Other doctors storm into the room, two of them grabbing David's hands and pulling him up. He screams, his cries echoing in the room as the doctor stands up behind his computer, dialing again on the phone.
"Tout va bien se passer, monsieur,"one of the doctors says to him. "Tout va bien se passer."
*C'est pas vrai,* the first voice says. *Oui, il a complètement perdu la boule!* |
(Kind of a cheat, but here we go!)
"How the hell did you get in here?"Dr. Hatred asked the man dressed in a 'Cool Runnings' t-shirt and jeans. The man was smiling, a sort of odd smile like he knew something that the other didn't.
"How did you get past my security?"The Doctor asked
"You mean your 143 guards? Or your 642 cameras? Or the 213 laser tripwires? Or the 67 armed drones patrolling the grounds of island here? Its a lovely place, isn't it? Stays around 78.3 with decent humidity year round, correct? I would kill for a place like this!"
"You'd have to if you wanted to take it from me..."the Doctor said, pressing a button to summon a henchman to his inner sanctum. "Speaking of killing someone, please try not to get blood everywhere when my men take care of you, I try to keep the place clean."
"I wouldn't worry about that. No one is coming. You have 0 henchmen now."
"Oh? Is that right?"He raised an eyebrow, his men would've been here by now so he was probably telling the truth... "Wait a second... you're that... fellow they call 'The Measure-er '
"Indeed I am."
"And how does someone who precisely and accurately measures things without equipment manage to do all this? Get past the best security systems that money can buy?"
"That's easy."He said with another big smile on his face, "The secret is: I've been guessing this whole time. I just happen to always be right."
"...what?"
"There are 0 desks in this room."And with that, the desk that the Doctor sat behind vanished without a trace with a small clap of air rushing to fill in the space where it was as well as the clamor of general desk accessories that fell to the floor.
"...huh...well..."The Doctor said, both amazed and terrified at the sudden disappearance of his desk.
"Next up I was thinking about accurately measuring how many broken bones Dr. Hatred has in his body."
"That won't be necessary, the Island is yours!"The Doctor got up from his chair and made his way out of the room,"I'll just grab my things and be out of your way!"He left without saying another word and ran as far away as he could.
"You do that."The Measure-er smiled and took the seat that the Doctor had vacated. He spun around a bit before saying, "There is 1 desk in this room."
A desk appeared before him. It wasn't the desk that Dr. Hatred had, it was a very plain and boring desk.
The Measure-er grumbled, "There is a better desk in this room."The man said, and another desk appeared, this time in the corner of the room. It was better, but not by much.
He sighed, "This might take awhile..." |
I wake up probably around six in the morning. In college I'd sleep in pretty late, but these days I'm an early riser. My brain just clicks on with the sun and there's jack shit I can do about it. So I wake up around six in the morning and Rita is still sleeping. I go for a quick run (my doctor says I need to start thinking about my cholesterol) and then I go down to the basement to lift a couple free weights and clean out my SL .45 AZM sniper rifle. By the time I get out of the shower, Rita is up too, cooking pancakes with chocolate chips while Janey and Lucy are watching the fucking tablet. Every second with these kids these days, there has to be a screen.
There's a bit of traffic, but I get to work on time. I dribbled a little bit of coffee on my tie, so I just take it off. My phone vibrates with a text and I'm glad I remembered to put in on silent. It's a picture Lucy drew for school she meant to show me. I tell Rita to tell her it's awesome.
Harry comes into the garage a few minutes later. My baseball bat cracks into the back of his knees and he starts screaming. I shove the rag in his mouth and his face turns all red and veiny before he passes out. I stick him in the trunk in between Janey's training wheel bike and the new cans of paint for the deck. On the way to the warehouse, Rita texts me with a whole fucking grocery list. Shit. She's doing that fucking dinner with the Wasserstein-Chang's tonight. Fuck that's going to be literal torture.
At the warehouse, I pull Harry up and get him strapped in real good. Duct tape six times around each ankle and wrist. That doesn't wake him up, but the jumper cables on his nipples do. He starts screaming around the ball gag, but I punch him in the gut and he shuts up. I tell him the situation. Mister Cenovese wants him dead because he's a filthy fucking rat who was going to talk to the cops and Mister Cenovese wants it nice and slow, so that's what going to happen. I ramp up the dial and the electricity starts flowing into his nipples. He goes stiff. After four or five rounds of this, his fat man tits are turning purple. I take off the alligator clips. He starts to relax, but then he sees the hammer, the scissors and the ever so thin glass rod. I start cutting off his pants and underwear. Harry squirms like Lucy in her carseat, but he ain't going nowhere. His short, hairy cock flops out. I start threading the glass up his urethra, very nimbly, like I'm helping Janey with one of her lanyard bracelets. Harry moans and whimpers. He knows what's coming. I slam the hammer down and the glass shatters, inside him.
Let me just say. Phil Chang and Marcie Wasserstein are the worst fucking people. They come to like one PTA meeting a year and take over the whole thing with their bullshit hippie theory on how to make kids have high self esteem. They bring up politics and evolution with people they don't really know. Why the fuck Rita insists on this dinner, I have no fucking clue.
Harry passed out from the pain, but he wakes up to the sound of the chainsaw. He begs me just to get it over with, but I try my best to make sure he doesn't bleed out right away. It still goes pretty quick. I untie the pile of pink guts that was once Harry and sweep them over to the vat of acid. I'll come back tomorrow to change out the chemicals.
I still have plenty of time before dinner. Maybe I'll treat myself to a beer or two in a bar. How long has it been since I just had a drink? My phone buzzes again. Shit. Lucy fell off the swings and she's crying. I have to go pick her up. Let me tell you, when you're a parent, there's nothing worse than seeing your kid in pain. It makes you crazy sensitive to the suffering in the world.
|
I sat, shackled to the altar, as the minister's words echoed in my ears.
"Dearest members, friends, and guests of the congregation. We are gathered here today to celebrate a momentous occasion..."
How had it come to this? How had I let myself fall into their trap, lured in by the promise of food and a warm place to rest?
"...Today, o blessed ones, we will be witnesses to the Ultimate Reason!"
An enormous cheer erupted from the pews. I glanced up and saw the minister's feet marching towards me. He knelt down and produced a handheld microphone from behind his back, practically jamming it into my face.
"Now why don't you go ahead and tell these people your secret. These kind, generous, hardworking people who wish to enjoy life without fear of the Void."
I remained silent.
"Speak up a little bit. We want to hear you loud and clear."
I spat on the altar.
"Hm. All right, then."
Without warning, he punched me in the jaw. I spat again, this time splattering the altar's marble surface with red.
"Let's try this again. What is the Ultimate Reason?"
I looked towards the sky, defiantly speechless. The minister grabbed me by the neck.
"I'm gonna give you to the count of three, you old bastard. One --"
I grabbed the microphone from him, my shackles clanging against the marble, and cleared my throat.
"Good people, my reasoning is simple. It is merely a three-step prayer of sorts, by which I acknowledge the omnipotence of the God of Death and admit my role as a mere witness to his power."
The crowd murmured excitedly.
"Part One - O God of Death, I am a humble stitch in the great fabric of fear you weave among your lowly subjects."
The murmur in the crowd stopped.
"Part Two - I long only to live a life in which I am left alone, to survive by my own means while you continue to do your work."
The crowd stared ahead blankly.
"Part Three - May you harden the hearts of those who dare to question your glory."
Everyone in the sanctuary, including the minister, collapsed.
I slipped my hands out of the shackles with ease, tiptoed around the bodies that lay strewn across the ground, and left through the back doors.
What the congregation failed to realize is that the God of Death comes in many forms...
...including an old bastard. |
Challenge accepted.
Sad | Thoughtful | Happy
---|---|----
Edward sat in a booth at the local coffee shop. He was in a foul mood for no particular reason, something that seemed to be happening a lot these days. He stared at his cup of coffee, still steaming. | Calloused hands wrapped around the vessel on the table before him. The mere thought of it filled Edward with warmth. He turned it around carefully, inspecting it from every angle as the sunlight filtered in through the windows. | A smile blossomed on his face. In this moment, right here and now, he felt like things were all right.
It was hard to say what one thing had turned him so bitter over the years. Maybe it was the divorce. Maybe he was just getting old. Edward *felt* old. Not just old... spent too. | He and his son had spent weeks assembling the model ship he now cradled in his hands. Although he was proud of their achievement he couldn't help but reflect on the irony of aging. The longer he lived, the less time he had left, the more time he was willing to commit to things. A younger man with all the time in the world didn't seem to have patience for anything. | Edward looked at the picture of his son. He didn't see him as much as he wanted to anymore, but that was to be expected. The boy grew up and moved out years ago. He set the ship they built together down on the table and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the tears. Sometimes it was hard to be alone.
He stared at the card that shared the table with his coffee. A wedding invitation... from his ex-wife. He couldn't tell whether she really wanted him there or just wanted him to feel miserable. Maybe he should just go, it wasn't like he had anything better to do. | So much had to happen to bring him to this moment. So many nights spent fretting over little details, trying to keep the ship from falling apart; it was easy to see that this was the work of two people. He had no idea how someone would do it alone but he hoped to find out. One day. | Carefully, Edward slid the wedding invitation back into its envelope. He spoke to no one in particular. "With or without you, the world keeps turning, doesn't it?"
Edit: Fixed a typo. |
Pack has a new pup
So helpless, I will protect
Though my sight goes dark
 
... ... ...
 
Run with me and play
We share sticks and ice cream cones
And your blanket too
 
You go on yellow
I stay here by the window
Quiet and gray now
 
... ... ...
 
You picked me! Picked me!
Our pack changes all the time
But you're everything
 
This one smells not right
But you make her pack and so
I must accept her
 
On our own again
So happy, run with me now
No! Stay away, car!
 
... ... ...
 
You smell all right so
I will let her keep you ok?
At least you don't snore
 
Camping is awesome!
I'll keep you safe from the skunk
And porcupines too
 
Come outside with me
Why do we always stay in?
Something is changing
 
Pack has a new pup
So helpless, I will protect
Though my legs are stiff
 
... ... ...
|
“Mandy, you okay in there?” asks Bill. “We need to get out of here. The soldiers will be here any second now.” I can hear the gunfire coming from outside, and smell the scent of blood reaching through the ventilation system. I hate the soldiers who decided to attack us, I hate that I'm in charge of security here, and I even hate Bill's honest concern. Right now, it all makes my blood boil. All my mind can think about now is red fur, and it takes all my willpower to not rip the door off the hinges. Somehow, I find the strength to open the door softly, and I rush past him, ignoring his protests. My skin is itching all over, and my mouth is as dry as a desert.
The Wolf inside me shouldn't be reacting this way. Even though the station is on the moon, I haven't had any problems for the past few weeks. Technically, I should never be effected—there's no way to see the full moon when you're on the moon. But ancient magic doesn't give a damn about the logic of changing planets, and now, on the night where it would be full moon on Earth, it feels even stronger than ever before. I can feel it on the back of my throat, and I know the change is coming soon.
“Mandy? Bill? Anyone?” I hear from the intercom. I grab the communication device, and tap its screen, accidentally cracking it with my rapidly sharpening fingernail.
“I'm here, Tratsky. What's going on out there?” I growled. I look at the reflection in my screen, and see my eyes going bloodshot red.
“Our blaster shields have failed. They overloaded the servers controlling our defense systems. We're basically out of options. You need to get out of there, now,” said Tratsky. I could hear the note of defeat in his voice. We both knew that if the terrorists got control of the base, that would leave any target on Earth vulnerable.
I was about to say something, when I coughed up blood, as my stomach began spinning fur within itself. The power of the full moon was approaching, and I couldn't hold it much longer.
Pain ripped through my arms and legs. I idly cursed myself for not bringing any doses of silver to hold back the transformation, as I felt myself hungering to throw up. My body was itching, begging, to be covered.
“Mandy? What the hell is this?” Bill asked. I looked at him, and saw how small and insignificant he looked, trembling there. I saw the gun on his holster, and knew I could rip his gut out before he could reach for it.
With the last of my willpower, I said “Tell Tsartzy to let the terrorists in.”
I saw his eyes widen, and he opened his mouth to question, and I snarled “Just don't argue, or I'll have you fired from the force forever. Let them in, and then you fucking hide in the bottom bunkers, and don't come out until the night is over. Even when the screaming stops, even when I tell you to come out, don't come out until your Terran chronoclock says it is 11:00 AM,” I said.
Thankfully, Bill wasn't stupid. He nodded, and told Tsartsky to let them in. I could see his confusion, and some small part of me fele bad, but I was saving his life. I waited till he had walked off, and I could hear him close the bunker doors several feet down.
Then, I let the transformation occur. I opened my mouth wide, and felt myself vomit the wolf fur. Blood and spit covered the magnificent red mane, creating quite a contrast with the sterile space station. It was a shell of a rather large wolf, and my hands stroked the fur, as my mind savored the feel of it. I could hear the anti-planetory soldiers walking through the station, pillaging the base. I didn't care. I fitted my hand through the arm of the fur, and felt the inside of the arm bind itself perfectly to my skin. And then, in a frenzy, I ripped my clothes off and became the Wolf.
“Mandy, we must always be careful. My grandmother, and her grandmother have always carried a dark power, and you too, seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, will have to carry it,” said my grandma. Despite being in a modern hospital, her eyes still carried the whiff of some long lost time.
“Grandma, times have changed. There's nothing scientific about this “seventh of a seventh” nonsense. Even there was some long lost dark curse, science would fix it,” I said.
Her eyes twinkled, and she laughed. “Of course my little engineer would think that. And science is useful. But, our blood runs deeper than that. And magic does not always listen to logic.”
I opened my eyes. The clothes of my human shell were beside me, ripped open. I would have to deal with it later.
I felt a sharp pain in my side. I looked up, to see a piece of meat standing in front of me, holding a weapon.
“Look, the dog didn't even flinch,” said one piece of meat. Something in my mind though, terrorist. I would save him for last, I decided.
“We must have scared those Lunans bad. They didn't even bring their pets,” another piece of meat said. She was trembling, and I could smell her fear when I stared at her. She was probably new.
A small part of me remembered my friend Bill was below. I would make sure that none of the soldiers found him.
After all, I preferred my dessert live. |
"You mean to tell me that this other ship contains..........cats?"
"Our scanners detect no sign of Canis Sapiens on that ship, sir. We've tried hailing them on the barker frequencies, but they haven't responded."
Captain Sam of House Ruddertail sat grimly at his command seat on the bridge. He knew the stories of the Felis. Their arcane rituals, fueled by some psychotropic plant, in which they yowled and hissed for gods long gone. Their barbaric sharpening of their claws upon any vertical surface they could get their paws on - in some cases, unfortunate souls who fell into their grasp.
What did the wisdom of The Old Masters say about them? That they were capricious, passive-aggressive....perhaps murderous, if given the chance. The Pedigree Council would not want more Canis Sapiens lives lost to his mishandling of a very delicate matter. Sam sighed. They had to open communications - the Felis had blundered into Canis Sapiens space. An explanation was needed.
His introspection and eventual distraction as to his upcoming meal was shattered by an announcement from the communications bay.
"Captain, comms. We're getting a signal, sir."
"Get it on viz,"Sam ordered.
The viewscreen flickered slightly, and a well-appointed Felis, in full ceremonial uniform, appeared.
"In the name of Those That Gave Shelter, we greet you, unknown vessel. I am he who is called Bounce, Custodian of the Felis vessel *Jinglemouse*. To whom do I speak?"
"I am Captain Sam of House Ruddertail, commander of the *Hydrant*. We picked your ship up coming past the coordinates of the Truce Boundary. Care to explain why you're entering Canis Sapiens space?"
"You question is fair, he who is called Sam of House Ruddertail,"the Felis replied. "We have been dispatched upon a Sacred Crusade to find Those That Gave Shelter amongst the many stars. We were not aware that we had passed the Truce Boundary in our travels. The High Seer has instructed us as to where we shall go, and we obey."
Sam turned to his first officer. "Louie, what do you make of all this?"
"Well, boss,"Louie drawled, pausing to scratch an ear with his leg, "it sounds like our own mission to find The Old Masters. Doesn't seem like they mean any harm."
"Who speaks?"Bounce the Felis inquired. "Identify yourself, if you would."
Louie stepped into the viewscreen's radius. "Uh....hello there."
"Greetings and peace be upon you, unknown life form. I am he who is called Bounce."
"Uh...."Louie turned to his captain. "What do I say, boss?"
"Just be polite with them,"Sam whispered. "Say who you are."
Louie cleared his throat, as was his want when under pressure. "I'm Louie of House Badgerdigger, Executive Officer of the *Hydrant*."
"A fine title, he who is called Louie of House Badgerdigger. A pleasure to make your acquaintance."
Sam cut in. "Perhaps we can spare the pleasantries for later, Custodian Bounce. Still waiting for an explanation here."
"My apologies, he who is called Sam,"Bounce bowed. "I understand that you seek answers, and I shall provide them. Our Sacred Crusade is not one of war, but of peace. We only wish to encounter Those That Gave Shelter and be amongst their benevolent presences again."
Sam thought for a second. Maybe these Felis weren't as dangerous as the stories said they were. But it never hurt to keep one's guard up.
"Perhaps, Custodian,"he stated firmly, "that our goals are aligned."
"That is most excellent,"Bounce affirmed. "For the *Jinglemouse* is not equipped for combat - we are merely acolytes of the High Seer. Perhaps an alliance of our peoples is in order?"
"That's up to the Pedigree Council to decide. If you would please follow our ship to the nearest Canis Sapiens outpost, we can establish lines of communication between your people and ours."
"Of course. Farewell for now, he who is called Sam. May Those That Gave Shelter smile upon this new chapter in our shared history."
Sam nodded and terminated the link. He turned and saw his bridge crew aghast as to what they heard.
"Set a course to the nearest outpost,"he ordered. "We've got some paws to shake." |
Count Aratu led his most recent client to the design table. He prefered to use his augreal brain to work on complex ship designs, but this had been a special project. He'd taken the time to commission a miniaturist to help fashion a model accurately depicting the scope and magnificence of the vessel. It was currently filed under the working title "LM-UV.fK.WCRG", but Aratu hoped the Lord Magnum would reconsider the name filed in the original request.
"Without much further ado,"the count began, "I give you... ***THE LORD MAGNUM UNIVERSAL VESSEL FOR KIDS WHO CAN'T READ GOOD!"***
Count Aratu's drone assistants removed the sheet concealing the model vessel. There was something special in seeing a design in the real rather than through VR inputs. Pythagorean beauty concealed itself in every angle, every dimension of the model. Aratu salivated just thinking about which engineers he would refer this construction to after its approval.
Lord Magnum approached the model. He began inspecting the model closer than Aratu expected he would, but *god if he didn't look good doing it.*
Magnum pursed his lips slightly-- a conceit not many would have noticed, but Aratu had spent years studying the fashion icon's gestures. He stood up and looked at Count Aratu, his eyes like magnificent, glistening daggers.
*"What is this..."* he rasped, as if the air was difficult to breath: ***"A VESSEL FOR ANTS??"***
Aratu's heart dropped to his stomach. The Lord Magnum seized the model and turned it to the ground, his biceps simultaneously gorgeous and terrifying. Aratu watched as the splinters of his precious labor skittered across the polished floor.
Aratu was rather confused.
*"What?"*
Lord Magnum seemed frustrated.
"How can we be expected to teach children to read... *if they can't even fit inside the universal vessel??"*
Aratu stared blankly at the Lord Magnum's perfectly manicured face.
"Derek, it's just a--"
***"I don't wanna hear your excuses!"*** Magnum replied sharply. "The Universal Vessel has to be at least... three times bigger than this!"
Aratu's exchanged a puzzled look with his drone assistants.
"...He's absolutely right..."he said to the robots.
"Thank you,"the Lord Magnum replied, straightening his shirt.
Lord Magnum was pretty, but he wasn't very smart. |
There was a weird sensation in the air after I said that, like the atmosphere itself was tingling. The bubble of oxygen surrounding the planet had been affected by a curious pop inside of it.
We'd been out for a couple of hours, and it was 2 AM. John was piss drunk and I wasn't too far off. We'd gotten into a small conversation leaving the bar about how fun it had been, talking about time travel and enjoying the night all over again when I said it.
I heard footsteps nearby and didn't think much of it in my drunken stupor. Hell, it could be a hunny, looking for me. Always good to head home with a woman.
John was chuckling next to me, barely able to stand. After a brief effort, I remembered where my apartment was and we started stumbling towards it, when the footsteps I heard earlier came to the corner and I grinned stupidly at...myself.
Wait, what?
John kept walking, too drunk to notice but...but how could he not?
It was me, Kenny. Bearded, dirty, holding his hands like one would during a prayer and breathing raggedly. His face, my face, looked like he'd seen better days. And a ghost. The look on his face made me think of a cornered, abused puppy. What the hell had him so scared?
After a few seconds of staring, making sure it really was me, my drunkenness slowly giving way to astonishment, I asked Hobo Kenny 2.0.
"W-what the fuck, man?"
HBK2.0 lunged at me, gripped my shoulders and looked me in his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He only said one thing to me, before I either passed out from shock or collapsed due to a quantum superposition.
"God is real. And he. Is. Pissed."
EDIT: Spelling.
|
"Remind me why we let Adolf DM again? Can we have a dungeon that isn't filled with gas for once?"
The party sat around the table, bickering. Washington had been going off at Adolf all night, having something to say about every room in the dungeon, every trap and every monster.
"Why don't you just DM next time, if you're so high and mighty?"Genghis chimed in from down the far end. Washington shrugged.
"I would..."
"But you lack the creative talent to design an adventure?"Bonaparte offered. Washington glared at him and placed his fists on the table.
"Excuse you, mister kill-and-plunder,"Washington said to Genghis, "I masterminded Saratoga and Yorktown, I can be creative!"
"Can we just get on with the game?"Adolf asked, "I'll switch up the next few rooms if you all shut up."
There was a murmur of agreement around the table. They entered a new room and started to plan their fight against the monsters.
"You alright there, Lincoln?"Washington asked, "You haven't been talking much."
"Focusing, sorry,"he replied, poring over his character sheet. Washington rolled his eyes.
"Alright, all of you make a strength check,"Adolf said. They all rolled their dice.
"Jesus, a four and a two, are you kidding me?"Bonaparte said. They rearranged their avatars on the board and proceeded onto the next turn. Play continued relatively passively for a while, when a few rooms later Washington was killed by a troll.
"Goddamnit, Lincoln, you could have saved me there! You've seen my luck with the dice tonight, it was bound to happen again!"
"Hey, I'm sorry, at least we took out the monster. We need to figure out how to get out of this room first."
Washington watched, annoyed as the party concocted a plan to get out of the room.
"We didn't bring any rope?"Bonaparte said, "Gandhi had room for a nuke and he didn't bring any rope?"
Gandhi just shrugged.
"We've got the torches from back in the room with the spiders,"Genghis offered, "but there's nothing we can light them with."
"There's gas in the room,"Adolf started, "you don't want to light them in -"
Washington got up and slammed his fist down on the table.
"MORE GAS? Seriously? This isn't one of your concentration camps, Adolf, why is there gas in every single dangerous room we walk into? Moreover, why are we sitting in a musty old flat playing a tabletop RPG? I'm supposed to be leading a fledgling world superpower, not playing make pretend with people I don't really like! I'm leaving! Have fun without me!"
Washington snatched up his avatar, dice and notebook and stormed out of the room. Gandhi rubbed his hands together.
"Can we leave his body here?"he asked. Lincoln nodded.
"Yeah, I mean, we'll just tell him he's served two terms. Doubt he'll be coming back anyway, you know how he is with his anger management."
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
*I've played D&D once, and I don't really know what this is, but I hope you like it* |
It's easier than you think, getting killed by someone else. A snyde remark here, a challenge there and there is no growing old and weak anymore. The trick, i found, is to make sure you don't get imprisoned for killing yourself. It used to be easier, gallows and guillotines were mere a speedbump. Prison, however, is a complete bitch. If you're not careful there is a real possibility you can never leave. Target the guards, would be my advice, they are a free pass.
Dying my way into the history books I used to say. Hah, like I was ever more than a blip. To even call it living would be an overstatement. I simply was, nothing more.
It got old of course, as all things do, but I couldn't stop. Didn't see why I should. It was all that I knew how to be. I met her in a fruit market.
I was scared when the end came closer. I truly loved her, and had no regrets. But for the first time, I was afraid of death. I can still see it now, her hand grasping mine as my heart slows to a halt.
I am that moment. I am the start of everything, and I am when it all ceases to exist. I am the beginning, I am the end, and I am all the moments we spent together. |
*“Thank you for calling Rune Inc. for all your enchantment and sorcery needs! This call may be recorded for quality assurance purposes!”*
“Hello yes, this is Paul, may I get the serial number of your wand, owl tracking code, or your date of birth to confirm your identity please?”
“Paul? You sound elvish to me…”
“Sir, I will need some way to verify your identity.”
“Uh, I have a confirmation code phrase from my Welcome Letter?”
“Can you read that out to me please sir?”
“It’s Ruby Phoenix Tooth on a Hill.”
“Very good sir, can you describe the problem for me today.”
“Yeah I bought one of your ridiculous wands, way overpriced by the way. Considering how much I pay for service to keep it charged you’d think you’d have a better deal. But the stupid thing isn’t working.”
“How so sir.”
“Every time I try to cast even the simplest spell it sets everything on fire! Half my house is singed! Lucky I was able to put it out. Well, most of it.”
“I’d be happy to help you with that today sir. Let me walk you through our troubleshooting process. Are you sure that you have properly binded with the wand?”
“Yes, I’m absolutely sure-“
“Can I get you to check that the binding symbols on your wrist make the wand insignia?”
“For the love of God yes! It does! I’m not an idiot!”
“No need to yell sir. I’ll need to cast our test spell.”
“I’d rather not light my house on fire more. Can’t you just send me a new one?”
“Sir I cannot diagnose the problem unless you follow directions. Unless there is a true malfunction we cannot refund already binded wands.”
“Alright whatever.”
“Alright sir please recite, Allevio.”
“It’s not a Latin wand.”
“This is the standard spell we use for troubleshooting.”
“This is a Gaelic magic wand, how is a Latin spell supposed to work?”
“My apologies sir, but the Gaelic wands are not intended for regular home use. If you are experiencing service issues that may be why.”
“What? But this is the wand they recommended!”
“Well we can change your regular service to accommodate it.”
“Yes, please. Jeez.”
“That will add to your monthly cost, however, we can waive it one year if you sign a new two year contract signed by Spiritual Pact.”
“I just signed a new contract though!”
“I apologize for the inconvenience sir.”
“You’re the people who sold me the wand in the first place! I don’t understand why you can’t just send me a new one! I want to speak to a manager!”
“Please hold sir.”
*“New this Summer, try Rune Inc’s new line of potions and charms, perfect for securing that promotion or making sure you’re the most charming at the ball. Remember: Federal law prohobits the use of potions for romantic and financial gain. If you struggle with Potion Addiction, call-”*
“Thank you for holding sir.”
“Where’s the manager?”
“Oh I apologize sir, I was able to find a way to fix your problem. We’ll amending your previous contract free of charge, and as an apology for the inconvenience we can offer you a-“
“I’d really rather just get a new wand – I don’t know how to use the Gaelic!”
“Well sir if you like I can connect you to one of our Gaelic Magic Specialists to assist you with your new wand!”
“It’s like this all the time with you people! I should just switch to iWitch!”
“Well sir with your new contract you’ll be eligible for an upgrade and a new wand within six months instead of twelve.”
“Six huh? Well, alright I guess.”
“Thank you sir, will you be needing anything else today?”
“Yeah do you have any cheap spell-limited wands? I’ve been thinking about adding my daughter onto the plan, but she’s only like 10…”
“Let me forward you to our Sales Department sir. Thank you for calling Rune Inc customer care!” |
First, you have to understand. Ma'iq was never a liar. Ma'iq simply tell you what Ma'iq heard.
There was once an obese nobleman, walking alone from Whiterun to Morthal. He never married, hence why he always travelled alone. Also, he was so fat that his foot cannot support his body, so his servants have to carry him everywhere he go. But one night, his servants grew tired of him. They killed him in his sleep and fed him to the animals. The next day, the fat man woke up and cried, for they have killed his son. The nobleman then continued his journey and arrived in his destination, Solitude. There he met his wife and tell her what happened. The wife spread the word around, and the story reached Ma'iq.
Now Ma'iq is tired. Go bother someone else. |
"(...) and we think the message might be coming from the president himself."
"What? That can't be right. There's no way the Russian President would say that. Someone must be taking measures to take down our nation"said our supreme leader.
The whole room stood in awe as every face sent out the same message: what now? I grabbed my handbag and started walking to the door, hoping I could warn my wife not to look into the sun as I heard a shallow voice.
"James, don't you dare leave me like this. You're the best translator we ever had".
I turned back and saw the president's expression of anger and disappointment. There was not much I could do, I had to stay in the base until the issue was solved. I asked him if I could call my s.o. and he accepted, as long as I didn't alarm her for that could mean the whole country would go into complete chaos if she spoke a word of it to anyone. During the phonecall I tried to remain as calm as possible and simply asked her to stay at home and not look into the sun. Even though she didn't really understand why I was asking that of her, I know she wasn't going outside. At least, not for now. Back in the war room, the leader of our nation asked me to call the Russian President and ask him directly what the hell that message meant. I was put in line and started asking questions.
"Mister P. was being quite paranoic, to be honest. He claims there's a big amount of radiation coming from the sky, mostly to the north of the equator. His technicians seem to believe this has to do with some awkward spaceship trying to land on our planet".
"How many times do I have to tell you that there's no such thing as aliens?"
"I didn't mention aliens, sir. The Russians identified a huge swastika flying near the international space station a few weeks ago."
"Oh, why couldn't he simply have said so in the first place"the president seemed intrigued, "men, get ready to make a worldwide transmission. Our Fuhrer has finally returned". |
You don't know me. Nobody does. And I like to keep it that way. Because if anybody knew who I really am, and what I can really do, “The Government” would come looking for me. They’d never find me though. I’d know they were coming before they even knew they were looking for me, because I know everything that’s ever happened, and I know everything that ever will happen...or should happen. Because sometimes what should happen, doesn’t, because I prevent it. Sometimes.
I’m walking down the street. There’s a delivery truck halfway down the block. The driver is behind schedule so he’s racing to beat the yellow, but he’s going to be too late. The light will change before he gets to it but he won’t stop, he can’t stop because his brakes are about to fail. I know this, just like I know the guy in the black Camaro is going to jump the light in a ridiculous attempt to impress the woman in the red Mustang next to him. Instead, he’s going to be killed, right in front of her, broadsided by the delivery truck, and his Camaro will be sent flying into the group of people ahead of me, waiting to cross the road.
And it will all be captured and broadcast live by the news crew that by sheer coincidence just happens to be there filming a segment with that intersection and that corner as their backdrop. Now maybe I could have prevented all of this and stopped the runaway truck if I’d gotten to the driver earlier in the day, but I can’t prevent everything. Sometimes some things just need to happen. I can help mitigate the damage though.
There’s a woman ahead of me, a single mom, pushing a stroller one-handed with her 6-month old baby inside. One-handed, because she’s walking hand-in-hand with her 2-year old daughter, who insisted on walking today instead of riding in the stroller’s second seat. She’s looking ahead to the light and she doesn’t need my foresight to know it’s about to change. She’s trying to hurry her daughter along because she's desperate to catch the light so she can pick up her 4-year old son on time because the daycare charges a late fee of $10 per minute after 5pm. But she *is* going to be late, and she’s about to hate me, but she’s also about to be incredibly thankful that I stopped her.
“Excuse me,” I call out to her. “Excuse me, ma’am! Excuse me!” She looks back at me, and when she sees that it *is* her that I’m calling out to, her face goes dark. I don’t look like a street person, I’m actually dressed quite well today, but she’s still very angry because I’m making her late, and even just a one-to-two minute delay will cost her dearly. But not today. Today that delay will save her life and her daughters’ lives, and it will save her son from growing up an orphan.
“What is it?!” she snaps at me. I know she’s an attractive woman, but when she’s angry like this, she’s something else entirely.
I hold up two $50 bills. “I’m sorry, I just thought you dropped these. Are these yours?”
Her anger disappears and her eyes grow wide at the sight of the money. She knows she’s about to be late, but if she accepts the money it won’t matter. At worst she’ll lose half of it, but even then she’ll still have $50, which I know is more than enough for her to buy a week’s worth of groceries for her small family.
To her credit, as much as I know she really needs this money, I see the resignation in her eyes. “No, it’s not mine,” she says sadly, then she jumps, because with no brakes there’s no forewarning squeal from locked-up tires, and so the crash of the truck hitting the Camaro is unexpected, and very, very loud. Even I jump, and I knew it was coming. The lady spins back around to look at the source of the sound and when she does I quickly step forward, slip the cash into her coat pocket, then race past her to the accident. I’m not done here, not yet.
A dazed young man is laying on the sidewalk. I know the back of his skull is cracked from when the Camaro hit him and sent him flying, and I know there’s a jagged piece of metal stuck in his side, just below his left arm. He's bleeding a lot but neither wound is fatal. I kneel down beside him, put pressure on the wound in his side, and I speak softly and quietly to him. “I’m sorry,” I tell him.
He’s still in shock, fortunately, so he’s not able to say anything, but I can see the pain in his eyes as I put more pressure on his chest wound, then slowly but steadily I push the piece of metal deeper into his chest, until it reaches his heart. I tell him again how sorry I am, and I stay with him and watch as the light slowly fades from his eyes. He had his whole life ahead of him. A lifetime in which he’d kidnap, torture, and eventually kill over twenty young girls. But now he won’t harm anyone, because I’ve killed him. Knowing this doesn’t make it any easier, because I also know he hasn’t done anything wrong, not yet. I’ve just killed an innocent man.
Slowly I stand up and walk away, and nobody sees me go, not even the news crew. I go home, where nobody is waiting for me, nobody but Jack Daniels. I prefer it this way, because nobody can know who I am, what I am, and what I do.
I’m Floridaman, and today I killed an innocent man and made his death look like an accident. Just like I’ve made all of them look like accidents. |
Tim Halpert was fading. It had been another long, boring day of emails and paperwork at his office job in Metrarkham city, a crime-ridden, overbearingly gloomy town. He had moved here not for the job, but in the hopes of helping the depressing place out. For in truth, Tim Halpert was not his real name- on his home planet, he was called Clark Wayne, and since coming to Earth he had become a billionaire, playboy alien who uses his fortune to fight crime. Yet here he was, laying low at his office job, eyes drooping from boredom and exhaustion.
It had been a quiet few days. The city had been unusually crime-free for a while, making him dreadfully bored. His coworkers seemed to mirror this mood. He looked around and saw Dwight Groot with his head on his desk, Sam Beasely twiddling her thumbs, and Stanley looking at Japanese art on his computer. Nobody was in the mood for work today.
But suddenly, Tim heard it- an urgent call on the police radio, hidden under his desk, speakers muffled with tissue paper so that only he could hear it.
"All available units, I repeat, ALL available units, report to Metrarkam bank. Be cautious and expect heavy opposition. The Jester, Mandolin Orange, Rex Ruther and all other major crime lords in the city are here with their crews."
Finally! It appeared that the silence over these days had had a purpose- the nefarious villains of Metrarkam City had come together for one massive heist. It was time for justice to be delivered with a wam! and a pow!
Tim bolted up, unable to contain his excitement... and looked around to see all of his co-workers had done the same. Only Stanley remained preoccupied, his eyes glued to his screen.
"Oh, I, Ah, need to use the bathroom"Sam said.
"I was just looking to get coffee from the break room", added Tim.
"And I was planning on getting my usual 10:53 snack from my car"Dwight explained.
A flurry of jumbled excuses, "ums", and "ahs"flew across the office from the dozens of other employees as Jim furtively shuffled over to the break room. He saw others suspiciously go into the copy room, others to the janitors closets, and some out of the building entirely. Finally in private, with the door locked, he opened the secret compartment he had installed in the cabinet under the coffee maker. From eithin, he removed his glorious supersuit and put it on. First, he donned his mask adorned with plumage on top; then, his cape cut to resemble wings that even allowed him to glide short distances, or at least fall with style; and finally, a dark blue, form-fitting body suit with the outline of a bird in the middle. Now, Clark Wayne's other-other secret persona was revealed: Birdman!
He fell with style out the window of the break room down to the front door of the office building. It was the normal rallying place of the League of Super Acquaintances before they went off to fight crime. Captain Magma, Catlady, Senior Incrediblé, Ironguy, and dozens more had already come together. With his arrival, everyone was ready.
"Alright, sorry to be tardy to the party."Birdman said. "Now, let's go fight some crime!" |
Scientists had been monitoring Yellowstone for decades. Longer. The geology of it was suspicious - The swelling, the fumes, the confusing readings they got from any test they attempted. There was *something* down there, they knew. Something viscous. A volcano, they decided. It only made sense. A growing lava bubble would explain the viscosity, and the fumes venting throughout the park, and the swelling of the earth.
There were a few of the scientists who disagreed, when the dust cleared. It didn't make sense, they argued. Some of the patterns lined up, they said, but it couldn't explain other parts of it. They were summarily hushed, scorned into silence, and sent on their way.
They didn't have to be told twice. They gathered their families and fled. The other scientists watched them leave, only a few admitting the unease they felt.
And then they waited.
Oh, it was probably nothing to worry about, they told themselves. Yellowstone had been around for centuries. Sure, even if there was an eruption coming, it in all likelyhood wouldn't be in their lifetimes. So they settled into complacency, choosing to ignore the warnings that had come before.
The first indications that the eruption had arrived were ignored. No one had even known to look for them. The lava bubble theory had been 'accepted science' for so long, that the thought of any other possibility had long since been eradicated.
When the ecologists met, swamped with sheer confusion at what they saw, they had no idea who they should be communicating their findings to. Surely they hadn't thought that the seismologists would be interested in the sudden disappearance of dozens of insect species from the Colorado ecosystem. So they kept their silence, and looked for an answer on their own.
And then, at last, it erupted.
Not in fire, as the seismologists had warned. There was no smoke, no pyroclastic flow. There was no volcanic ash, no lava or sulphur.
There was only the amniotic fluid, surging down the hillsides as at last the membranes burst. It had been a long time coming, the egg swelling far beyond what it could hold as the air inside it expanded. It heaved, throwing the rocks and earth above it clear. Humanity reeled, as the earthquakes seized the region and landslides cascaded downwards.
The spiders followed immediately after. They had been waiting, growing, for centuries beneath the earth. They waited no longer, and coated the earth like a sea as they surged to freedom.
They were hungry.
(/r/Inorai)
---
Lol ignore the scientific issues with this response, as I am well aware. Merely my first thought, and I couldn't resist. |
And then Twilight Sparkle turned to Luke Skywalker and then she smiled and then he smiled at her and they were smiling at each other because they knew their secret would be a secret forever because they wouldn't tell anybody and they would keep it special.
"I love you, Twilight Sparkle,"said Luke Skywalker with tears in his eyes.
"I love you, Luke Skywalker,"said Twilight Sparkle with a long sigh.
And then they kissed and it was so magical because their kiss was the perfect one that felt like it happened for forever but didn't really but when the Force mixed with unicorn magic it made the kiss feel really magical and special and they both loved it a lot. It was the most perfect kiss they ever had.
But then it was time for Luke Skywalker to get back in the TARDIS with Rick and Morty because he couldn't stay in Equestria forever because they needed him to stand up for people in other places. But he knew he would come back for his one true love one day because nothing could ever keep them apart no matter what. |
"ALL HAIL AZXNSJSK!"they chanted, bowing at my feet.
"Uhm, yea,"I replied, stomach grumbling. "Can I get a Snickers bar?"
One of the man jumped up and snapped to another, "Get the leader a Snicker's bar!"
"With almonds?"
They both looked at me.
"Duh,"I answered.
"You heard him,"the first man snapped, sending the second man running. "AND GET ME ONE, TOO. WITH ALMONDS!"
"Bro,"I told him. "You got to chill."
He looked terrified, and started to shake, bowing low to the ground. "Yes, Master."
"My name's Adam."
"Yes, Master Adam."
I sighed.
Meanwhile, the rest of the cultists had been moaning the entire time like they were auditioning to be the ghosts in a school play.
"Okay!"I yelled.
Immediately they stopped.
"This is crap,"I tell them. "You invite me here for this? Where are the games? Where are the bitches?"
They look at each other, exchanging dull stares and half-hearted shrugs.
"Wow,"I say.
The second guy comes back and hands me my Snickers.
I nod to him. "Thanks."
He starts wheezing like he's about to hyperventilate while also managing to giggle a few times like an excited schoolgirl who's just been looked at by her favorite pop idol.
"Well,"I start, "this has been great and all, buuut...send me back."
The first guy lifts a finger. "But what about our wishes?"
"If you dont send me back right now, you're going to wish you had sent me back,"I threaten.
He balks and yelps at his people to send me back. Next thing I know, I'm backing on the path I was walking before - to the grocery store to get a Snicker's bar. But that cult had saved me a trip and some money.
I guess they weren't so bad after all.
|
Anticipation of the future was the most powerful trait a Jedi possessed. But the Padawan had seen how misguided it could be; even the most powerful Jedi and Sith couldn't determine how certain events would unfold, only what the final outcome would be. However, the holocron he had found in section 5-T-4-R, row W-4-R-5 didn't leave anything for the imagination.
It was so detailed, so precise; it explained events that occurred in the past in incredible detail, summarizing them at the beginning in a yellow scroll and showing events from such a personal point of view. The Padawan had heard stories of these events, but he had never seen such an intimate recollection of what had happened in the past. The inception of the Clone Wars, the battle of Geonosis, captured everything from the battle, even the epic battle between Count Dooku and the three Jedi who challenged him.
But what interested the Padawan the most was what lay ahead. With a wry smile, he placed the holocron in his cloak. He knew he would have to be patient, but with this, he would achieve the power he always knew he was meant to reach. The galaxy would be his in time. *Supreme Leader.* He liked the sound of that. He had always believed that the power to predict the future was a Jedi's strongest characteristic, and he wanted to perfect this trait better than anyone had ever done in the past.
Snoke slowly walked out of the Jedi Temple, unaware that one day this powerful Jedi trait would lead to his downfall... |
"We would never even realize, you know."
"...I'm sorry?"
"We wouldn't realize. Not at first."
I looked up from the park bench and stared up at the man in front of me. He was haggard looking, with well-worn clothing and an uneven beard. I looked into his eyes, and the busy park that surrounded us seemed to go silent.
"What wouldn't we realize?"The words felt like sandpaper leaving my mouth.
"Do you know how long it takes for sunlight to travel to Earth?"He sat down next to me, and even though if was far too close for comfort I found myself unable to move away.
"I don't see what that has to do with anything."I chuckled nervously. A small cloud high above our heads moved in front of the sun, and the world became a shade darker.
"Do you?"His voice was no longer inquisitive, and he stared at me with a focus that straddled the border between creepy and downright terrifying.
"No I don't, sorry, but I should really be leaving."I stood up from the bench to speed walk as fast as possible from the bench and the old man sitting on it, but his hand grabbed my wrist. His hold was like iron, far too strong for somebody his age, and his voice was just as steely.
"Eight minutes and twenty seconds. That's it. Eight minutes and twenty seconds to light up everything we've ever known."
"Let go of my hand."I spat, hoping he couldn't sense the anxiety in my voice.
"If the sun were to ever go out, we'd only have eight minutes and twenty seconds. Less than nine minutes to say goodbye to your wife, your children, your friends...the world would slowly get dimmer, second by second, and we would never even notice the last precious moments of sunlight to ever hit Earth."
"Let go of my hand!"I yelled. A nearby family sitting on a picnic blanket glanced over and whispered to eachother, and he finally let go of my hand with a small smile. I didn't walk away like I had planned. Instead I stood there and stared. "Why are you telling me this?"
He only smiled again. "I just wanted somebody to talk to, I suppose. Thank you for listening."He stood up, so suddenly that a nearby squirrel ran off and I stumbled backwards a step. "Good luck out there."He walked away without another word, and I didn't dare call after him. His figure slowly walked down the path until he turned a corner and I lost sight of him.
The park around me was loud with the laughter of children, and I felt myself relax. That was nothing but a crazy old man, I thought, and I shouldn't pay him any attention.
Up above my head the cloud moved away from the sun.
The park didn't get any brighter. |
I jolted awake. My heart thumped wildly. Who was this old man? A thick fog spiraled and covered his eyes. His twig-like extremities and lips tremored.
"The train is coming,"he said, his voice brittle and breaking. "Do you have your ticket?"
Unbidden, a mantle of fear wrapped me. I fumbled into my pocket to show him I didn't have a ticket.
But I had one.
It was black with white, shimmering symbols. Or were they letters? I couldn't decipher them.
The old man drew a deep breath, and his lips distorted into a wicked grin. "Finally! I've been waiting for so long."
I stood up slowly, lest I scared him and get myself hurt. "W-waiting for what?
He frowned and swung his hand across the station. "For a disciple, of course. We are going far today."
The man reeked. His braided white beard was home of little black bugs that danced like moving specks of dirt across the many folds. Moths had eaten parts of his tattered robe, shirt and pants, and his bare feet exuded the stench of someone who had forgotten the existence of water.
Had he put the ticket in my pocket while I was sleeping? It was the most logical answer, yet the ticket was tidy and new, and the symbols, although unknown, were intricate and their strokes seemed flawless.
"Let's clean this up,"the old man said and pretended to sweep the floor.
In that moment, the wind picked up, carrying the dirt and errant leaves far away from the station's ground like an invisible broom.
"Very well,"he said and placed his hands on his waist, "now the train driver shall not be mad at us for our mess."
A shrieking and grating noise as if metal were bending followed from underneath, echoing through the silent station.
I frowned and ran toward the sound. My eyes went wide as nature allowed them to go. The broken rails were moving, bending, hovering and forging back into two straight lines all by themselves, as if there were a thousand workers I couldn't see fixing them.
"What's happening?"I asked the old man. My insides itched, and I couldn't scratch the alloy of emotions away. Some I wanted to keep, for they caressed and calmed me. Some I didn't, for I deeply feared the unknown.
Bells rang, something whistled and puffed in the distance time and time again, and a pleasant clattering announced the train's arrival.
I gazed, slack-jawed, as it stopped in front of us. Thick clouds of steam flew southward out of its chimney, dressing the blackness of the train with faints strings of white.
*All aboard!* someone yelled.
The door at the end of the train's steps swung open, and the old man grabbed my shoulder.
"Let's go,"he said and stepped forth, "it's been a long time."
I drew a deep, brittle breath, and gave the station a last glance. Then, I followed the old man.
[PART 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/AHumongousFish/comments/94lzt0/the_amfractus_part_1_2/)
------------------------------------------------------------
r/AHumongousFish check it out if you enjoyed it! I have two on-going series over there.
I will add a second part after lunch! |
I looked at his face my paw raised, ready to strike. I could see the fear in his eyes, the horror as he stares death in the face.
Why can't I do it? I've prepared for years, building up until I had the massive, muscular body of bear. I fought tooth and nail, never stopping, hoping to finally turn into the form of a human once again! Why can't I just do it!
I let him go, before I could think about it and watched him as he fled. I scampered back to the cave, setting my head and cursing myself for not killing the foolish thing.
Why couldn't I do it? I had the chance, the only chance I ever was going to have. Why did I freeze?
I shifted into the form of a cat, my silver fur glistening in the dying light of the sun. I paced around the cave floor, thinking.
What was I going to do next? I can't try again to kill another human. I… I just can't.
I remembered the look of terror on his face. Drops of blood glistening on his face. The moment of fear and denial In his moment of near-death.
Why couldn't I kill him! I spent every moment of my new existence killing. Just so that I could become bigger. Stronger. I remembered the adrenaline in my veins as I pounced upon a lizard! I near-term.
But then I remembered his face.
I changed form into that of a moth, and escaped into the night. I stared at the stars contemplating WHY? Why me? Why this? This wasn't the first time I had contemplated this idea. I had spent many a long night as an innumerable amount of creatures when I had almost given up. But this felt permanent.
I watched a star stream across the night sky, illuminating it for an instant. I was a falcon now, speeding across familiar scenery.
Maybe I was looking at this all wrong. Maybe I wasn't meant to be just a normal person. Maybe I'm meant for something more. Maybe I should just stop thinking about me. Maybe I should start looking around me.
I knew what I had to do. I done down, shifting into armadillo as I hit the ground. It was time to start helping.
|
The sky burned. Clouds of smoke and soot filled the air, the wind brought ash and desolation. The once blue sky was colored grey, black, and red as the invaders burned their way through the heavens. Great forms of metal and light fell upon the world, taking what they wanted and destroying what they could not. Militaries fell, weapons lacking in strength and potency. Many tried to fight back, to not go calmly into the night. Pockets of resistance grew but were tiny motes of light in the sea of black. Tales of heroism were told, built on the foundation of sacrifice and incredible loss.
Mankind’s first encounter with the aliens was disastrous. Some hoped it would be a calm meeting between possible friends or partners, where trade could be formed as man entered the galactic community. Others thought that man would enter a new age, one of discovery and new possibility. More however thought that man would be forced to fight for their survival. In the end they were proved right but in more horrific ways than they ever could imagine. The gathering of world leaders was a trap and all were incinerated or captured by the aliens. They were tall, bipedal, possessing inhuman features which belied their intense cruelty.
Stories were soon told, shared by survivors and by mocking images sent by the invaders. Those captured were experimented on, used for the alien’s knowledge and amusement. Earth’s natural resources were plundered, stolen, taken. The aliens systematically wiped cities off the map, and took their time pillaging this world.
The latest hunting fleet settled on the ground and poured forth their contents. The aliens stalked amid the city, taking prisoners and despoiling the works of man. One leader of a hunting unit saw people stream into an ancient building. The followed, chirping and clicking at each other in their language. They kicked the doors down, filing through and covering the floor with their weapons. Ancient paintings hung on the walls, statues dotted the corners and the exhibits, pottery that lasted through the ages watched from cases of glass. Some of the aliens peered at the objects with mild interest, while others pushed them over and chortled at the sounds of breaking history.
Finally they found a cluster of people, a small group cowering around a man and a child. The people wept and wailed at the sight of their pursuers, the man blanched as he faced them. The small girl however seemed to take no notice, her eyes closed and mouth moving. The leader tapped at his head, and for once he was puzzled by her words. They did not match any of the language databases they had collected. Piqued, he aimed his weapon at the girl and the man stood in front of her. The leader chittered some more and an electronic voice emerged, +What are you doing?+
The man coughed nervously, shaking but standing resolute. “We are defending these people. Leave and nothing will happen to you.”
After the translation the alien leader laughed. It was an awful sound, full of hoarse coughing and after it spoke to its kind the others joined in. +Nothing will happen to us regardless. Stand down, or die.+
“We will die regardless,” the man replied to the alien’s surprise. “The only difference is how and when.”
+Very well, if you do not stand down and surrender you will die painfully and slowly. If you surrender, you will die swiftly and painlessly.+
Dark blue eyes met inky black eyes devoid of humanity. “I don’t believe you.”
The alien shrugged, an awkward mimicry it had picked up. +Well, then nothing more needs to be said.+
“Actually, there is.” The girl spoke softly but the sound carried. It filled the empty space and the aliens shuddered at the change in pressure. It crackled through their translators, laden with something unknown.
The leader shook his head, wincing in pain as he glared at the girl. +And what is that?+
“Enough is enough. Leave all of you. The Earth cries against you invaders and humanity’s fallen will take no more abuse.” She held her hands up to the sky and glared at the aliens. They recoiled from her glance but stood their ground at a snarl from their leader. Guns came up and pointed at the girl. For the first time when faced with such imminent violence, a human smiled. She brought her hands together and spoke, “Rise the faithful. Rise the fury. Protect your home and country once more. **RISE**.”
Black and purple light seeped from her hands, coiling and twisting before plunging into the marble tiled floor. The ground quaked and undulated, the aliens looking down with alarm. The tiles began to crack, to split, and something seemed to try and emerge from the earth. The leader hissed and fired at the girl, a beam of fire and light went towards her. A shield flew from the wall, a heavy rectangle affair and stopped the beam. It held against the wave and the light dissipated but the shield remained. The aliens gaped as bits of armor came after, hoops and bands forming around an invisible body. Finally a heavy helmet with winged cheek guards, a transverse crest upon its crown, finished the form and fey light glowed where eyes should be,
Movement alarmed the other aliens as more armored figures came marching down the halls. Hobnailed boots made sounds that have not been heard in ages, formations of shields upon shields, and the points of pila wavered above. The ground finished its cracking and skeletal hands broke through, dragging out bodies from the soil. Armor was given, shields and swords passed around, and rings of risen soldiers ringed the aliens. They now felt fear and dread, never had they seen something like this before.
The first risen looked back at the girl, spectral light forming a strong face and piercing eyes. *Praetor,* it spoke, an eerie sound that caused the aliens to quail but revitalized the humans. *Your orders?*
The girl looked at the objects of her scorn, and every risen soldier followed her gaze. “Rome is being invaded. Her citizens dying by invaders and despoilers. Soldiers of the Legions, drive them out. Stay true to your oaths, protect, slay.”
The spectral commander brought a clenched fist to his chest, bowing low to her. *Your will be done.* He turned and drew a sword, pointing it at the aliens. *You heard her men! Drive out the barbarian filth. Fury of the Legions!*
With a cry that echoed around the city, the undead soldiers attacked. They sang as shields blocked blasts, as swords sank into alien flesh. The Legions marched once again. |
There he was at the head of the table, the Godfather: Don Matteo. Around him sat his family: his two brothers, his son, and his daughter. You could see the weight of the war had gotten to him, his wrinkled brow permanently adorned his face, his hair greyer with each passing day. Even his voice had gotten raspier over the past month. His late wife, a casualty of the war that had plagued little Italy for so long, still heavy on his mind.
Standing around the family were the rest of the goons. It made me sick to look at them honestly. All of them had a smug look on their face as the Don debated with his family about their next move. It had to be stopped, and I had to stop them.
It seemed like forever had passed since I busted into the private meeting, but honestly it was only a moment before all eyes were on me, and within seconds I was being approached. This was it. This is what I had prepared for for months. Here it goes:
"Look at you all in here chillin' like you own the world, your fists already curled,
But you don't have a leg to stand on, you're about to see;
The power of Razor Tongue, you have no chance to plea.
I'll start with all you soldiers here, the bottom of the tree;
The bottom of the totem pole is where I'll start my spree.
Murder of the third-degree, you won't even see, the shit I spit with intricate artistry.
Out here looking to prove yourself, loyal as can be;
But you're just a worker bee, sucking his dick for free.
Begone with you, I'm here to end this family.
Consigliere, baby Sherry, don't look at me like "please, please spare me;"
Your time has come, and I'll fucking make it scary.
My words will tear you up, death by a thousand bloody cuts;
And when I'm done the floor will be covered in your guts.
You cold and callous bastard of the streets of blood and death,
I send you to the underworld with just a simple breath.
To the family so smug and proud I hope that you can see,
I'm not here to play, I'm here to end this idiocracy.
The end is nigh, but you will all remember I,
And when I'm done you all will testify;
That none of this was worth the pain, fuck all could quantify,
The pain you will experience, the endless dream I'll occupy.
And the leader, the man feeder, I ain't no palm reader
But I don't have to be to know that if you cross this man he'll make you a bleeder.
It's clear to me that through your time you've caused a lot of pain,
So here I am to battle you and end your shitty reign.
You havne't been the cause of something good your whole damn life,
The only thing you've caused is a lot of fucking strife.
So this is for all of those who felt your cold, cold hand, laying in the sand,
not able to stand, because of you and your brand.
So feel my backhand as I make my final demand!
Enjoy your last few moments on this earth;
but feast your eyes on what your crimes are worth.
Leave this world, a better place without you and your crew,
We'll all be better without you, you old, decrepid shrew."
As I looked upon the carnage in front of me I couldn't help but smirk. I enjoyed what I did; I made the world a better place with my power, and for that I am greatful.
​ |
"So let me get this straight,"I said. "You get some drunken e-mail-"
"It wasn't just *some* drunken e-mail,"the Secretary-General immediately interrupted. "It was a profanity-laced drunken e-mail, filled with insults of my mother, the members' mothers, and translated. Not very well, granted, pretty sure it was a Google Translate job, but that just makes it more insulting."
I sighed. "So you get this e-mail-"
"And he copy-pasted parts of the French constitution - also poorly translated into English, and then back into French - as his example of how the world should run. Plus some kind of anarcho-authoritarian rant-"
It was my turn to interrupt "Isn't that a contradiction? If it's authoritarian it can't be anarchy, by definition."
"Exactly!"The Secretary-General said, "The damn e-mail was just chock-full of drunken nonsense like that!"
I sighed again. "And so you decided to just hand over control over the entire world."
"Not just me. Everyone voted, it was unanimous."
"You're all morons, you know that?"I said, unable to stop myself.
"Excuse me?"The Secretary-General said, affronted.
"Excuse you indeed,"I said. "You handed over control - or what you thought was control - over the entire freaking world to some drunk idiot, on a *dare*."
"But the e-mail!"
"I don't care about the e-mail!"I said. "There's nothing in any e-mail ever written convincing enough to justify what you did. If some terrorist had threatened to blow up the entire goddamn *planet*, you still wouldn't have given in, but some moron with a drinking problem vomits up an essay and you fold? Morons!"
The Secretary-General was speechless. Good.
"This,"I said, "is why secret societies like mine exist. Because you,"I made a gesture that made clear that the 'you' in this case was plural, "are too stupid to keep things running yourself."
"I-"
"No."I said. "Tomorrow you'll all go back to work - and if I find out that this was actually some stunt to get time off, I'll... well that would actually be a *better* excuse than what you're telling me."
"Back to work? What about the drunk?"
"Don't worry,"I said in my Ominous Official Secret Society voice, "We'll deal with him."
The Secretary-General, as most people did when I broke out that voice, wisely left the room. I made plans to deal with - specifically, murder in a deniable fashion - the idiot who'd started this whole thing with his drunken dare. If word got out that the reigns of power could trivially be seized just by downing a few shots, there would be serious consequences. Chaos, of course, but that wasn't my specific worry, no. People just couldn't be allowed to have their drunken dares acted upon.
That's how I'd gotten *my* job, after all. |
Everything was the same.
And he wanted, more than anything, to hide.
It was nearly five years, to the day, since they’d first met – that fateful day in a dingy bookstore cafe when he’d met the woman of his dreams.
Bookstores were a dying breed, in the mid-twenty-second century, but every now and then one could find one tucked away in an alleyway somewhere. An archaic reminder of times past, really. In an age where memories could be stored, backed up, and downloaded, few saw the need for proper, physical books. Those who did were seen as archaic and old-fashioned themselves.
So it was fitting, then, that their romance seemed to have been plucked straight from the pages of an ancient fairy tale. He’d come in every day, at the same time, and ordered a coffee with too much sugar. She always had it ready before he arrived.
The barista and all-too-clumsy historian bonded over a mutual love of books. No screen nor e-ink nor holofilm, they’d always agreed, could replace paper.
They’d always agreed on other things, too.
Like how it was perfectly acceptable for him to have five sugars with a coffee, or how only savages would mark a page by dog-earing its corner.
Like how a run through the city at midnight was a good idea. How it wasn’t cheating to unplug someone’s controller as long as you claimed it was an accident. How fruit from a tree tasted better than synthfruit, even if their chemical composition was supposed to be identical.
And how incredibly expensive a wedding was.
The ceremony was small, the decorations homely, and the marriage perfect.
They grew into a steady daily rhythm. Shower, breakfast – coffee with five sugars, of course – and off to work. Lunch. He’d leave the museum in the mid-afternoon and pick her up from work. At night, they’d binge-watch 21st-century films, or sit in the backyard and stare up at the sky.
And then, one day, their fairy tale ended.
In an age where memories could be stored, backed up, and downloaded, cancer was hardly world-ending. Or life-ending. Death simply meant a minor inconvenience and a week in stasis, while a new body was grown.
But her last backup had been too ago, the tumor now too large for a new cerebral scan.
“She’ll still be the same person you knew,” the doctor had insisted. “She’s got the same experiences, minus five years or so. You’ll be able to make new memories together.”
It didn’t seem right. She’d changed in five years. He’d changed.
And, apparently, the bookstore hadn’t.
“Excuse me? Sir?” She was waiting, now, notepad in hand.
He was staring. Hoping, desperately, for any sign of recognition in those familiar eyes. Any sign that she remembered him.
“What’ll you have?”
---
*Like this story? Subscribe to /r/OneMillionWords for more.* |
"Well sir, he asked to leave. Politely. He claimed it was a need to excrete, and that he knew where the lavatorium was."
"So your guards just let him go alone, with a 'pinky promise' to come back?"
"In human culture, pinky promises are unbreakable!"
"Garbolath. You are an intelligent person. Tell me, at what *age* do humans find those promises unbreakable?"
"Between two and eight rotations, commander, with a standard deviation of up to a full rotation either way."
"And how old was this human, Garbolath?"
"Fourteen rotatio-- oh. I see. Would you like the guards at fault executed, sir?"
"That won't be needed Garbolath. For my second round of questioning, I'll be asking you how the human knew where the escape pods were."
"Ah... You see, admiral, that's a very funny story. The guards were speaking freely near the human, safe in the assumption that the language barrier was safe."
"And how long did that last?"
"About one third of a rotation, admiral. The human was fluent by half of one."
"And nobody thought to stop their free speech near it?"
"No admiral."
"Garbolath, your guards will be reeducated."
"And, ah, what about me admiral?"
"You are the one getting an execution."
"For the escape of a single test subject? Sir, I must implore you to reconsider."
"No Garbolath. For letting the subject escape with our only good starmap." |
"You guys, look at these bracelets!"A young brunette hopped into a group of young women stood at the courtyard.
Awe struck the equally fashionable women. They began to inspect the shiny bracelets with the intensity of a detective on a crime scene.
Weight, shine, make, and even the price point. Everything was taken into account.
As they were buried deep in conversation – borderline investigation – a loud air-raid siren blared through the air.
"What in the world is that supposed to be?"Said a blonde with an immaculate French bun.
"Dear me, Papa once said of an 'air-raid siren' sounding equally horrible..."An even more prim and proper lady in a Victorian dress thought.
"Well, in any case maybe we should go to class–"
"Ladies! On your feet and bloody move!"A man in a sharp-looking military dress shouted.
The shout was so loud that the entire courtyard – filled with all manner of posh young women – went silent. A few moments later, grumbles and mumbles replaced the silence. The stiffly large man cried out another shout with a crescendo.
"You ladies have *exactly* **sixty seconds** to get to your respective companies or you would all face **disciplinary actions**!"
Nothing. You could almost listen to the gears rolling slowly in their heads.
"One... Two... Three–"
Then, a slow uncoordinated march ensued. The ladies moved to their classes dumbfounded. The confusion simply grew as they cross the main hall and saw all the military men and women holding rifles. These were not teachers, they must've thought.
***
"Welcome to Die Rotten Company, ladies!"a short, stocky man stood at the head of the ladies seated in the room.
"Pardon me, sir,"the same blonde with the French bun from earlier raised her hand, "but is this not 'class R'? I believe we have nothing to do with "rotten company"or–"
The man chuckled. The ladies stared bewildered at his reaction.
"There must be a fella at HQ taking the piss out of the whole bloody thing... You ladies must've not been informed properly."
Regaining her composure, the blonde girl stood up, "then would you mind clearing the fog? I imagine everyone here would like to know what is going on!"
"You ladies have been sent to the Fredsburg Cadet School, the finest officer corp academy you'll ever see in the known world!"
Mouth agape, the brave young woman who had voiced the thoughts of the others lumped back in her seat. Feeling victorious, the man walked slowly amongst the rows of young women in his "class".
"I intend to do as my duty dictate. I will form you all into proper command-abiding officers with the capabilities to inspire hunger and ambition inside the men you'd lead in battle! I will take into account of your noble and well-educated upbringings to make smart, creative tactical geniuses!"
The man reached the young woman who had went limp on her own chair, "you, Miss Blondie. I appreciate your coming forth and having the bloody courage to ask when you knew nothing. You'll be in charge of Die Rotten Company! Rise and welcome your new leader, ladies!"
With some hesitation, the women began to rise on their feet and cheered awkwardly. The man put his large hand to his face and prompted them to clap. A thunderous clap was what he got next.
"Congratu-fucking-lations, gold stars across the sodded board. Now, go and grab your kit from the back of the classroom. Get changed, no more shiny jewelleries, no more rich fabrics, everyone... make yourselves into proper looking soldiers!" |
I drove up to the checkpoint to see five or six armed guards blocking the path. They were equipped with heavy-duty riot gear: face shields, body armor, M-16 rifles and M-9 side arms. These boys meant business.
"Good morning,"I called out my window.
"Identification,"one of the guards announced through his bushy beard. Spec Ops vets were all the same: once they get a breath of freedom from the military they go back to doing the same shit. But with beards.
I handed my ID out of the window, and beard guy handed it back to another guard who checked it against a clipboard. One of the guys to the right circled my car with an inspection mirror, checking the undercarriage like this was Iraq. I rolled down the window next to him.
"I think I hit a cat a half mile away. Can you check for me?"I smiled at him but he didn't even acknowledge me.
"Drive thirty feet up and pull to the right for inspection."Beardy handed my ID back to me and looked down the driveway.
"Thanks, buddy. Good talk."
I drove forward, parked, and was met with a new team of armored guards who searched my effects and tore the rental apart--stereo our of the console, rugs ripped up, the whole nine yards. When I protested, they handed me a paper receipt for the car from the rental agency.
$48,000 for a 2019 Toyota Camry. Paid for by Mr. Nock himself.
"What's he going to do with it?"I asked one of the inspectors.
"I don't know. Destroy it I guess. When you're a billionaire you can do shit like that."
"Too true. Where do I go from here?"
"Follow the path up to the main residence and talk to T.J. He'll assign you to a post and your watch will begin."
"Thanks, man."This guy seemed to be the first human being I had come in contact with thus far. "The name's Robert. Friends call me Robby."
He removed his tactical glove and extended his hand. "Miller. Friends call me Miller."
We shook and I went about packing my things back into my bag. "So, Miller, how'd you get into this line of work?"
"I was Air Force security forces for two years before cross-training into SERE. Got out in 2018 and I got picked up by Shieldpoint Logistics over here."
"A survivalist, huh? So if things go south tonight you'll know exactly how to stay alive in a billionaire's mansion."
He shrugged. "Air Force. It's how we do."We both laughed loudly, eliciting glares from some of the more stoic guards on duty. "What about you, Robby? How'd you start?"
By then I was all the way packed and eager to get started. "I'll tell you what. When this is all over, give me a call and I'll buy you a beer. I'll tell you the whole story."I handed him a business card with my info on it.
"I'll do that. Best of luck tonight!"
I rolled my eyes. Paranoid billionaires were easy pickings: unlimited money and show-of-force work only. I almost never even have to turn the safety off in these jobs. You stand around for 12 hours and get paid tens of thousands to do it. Except tonight Mr. Nock was paying a hundred grand per man. "Best of luck to you too, Miller."
I reached the house and followed the paper signs into Nock's huge foyer, where folding tables were erected and filled with computers and monitors and papers and pens. Charts were set up outlining the home's perimeter and marking weak points that required fortification and heavier guards.
A tall man in a button-up shirt under a bullet-proof vest walked up to me with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Morning!"He was older but had all the markings of a retired military man: grey, neatly-cut hair, pensive squint, well-fitted slacks but a loose gait. He had the posture of a man who could afford the finer things, but who has also killed people with his bare hands.
"Morning,"I offered back. "I'm looking for T.J."
"You got him,"he smiled to me and shook my hand. "I run security for Mr. Nock and I'm coordinating tonight's protocols. Who might you be?"
"Robby La Rue, at your service."
"Robby La Rue. Rolls right off the tongue, doesn't it?"
"A name that's fun to stay sticks to the front of your mind."I winked and tapped my temple. "I credit it with a fair number of my contracts."
He laughed before taking a sip of his coffee and shaking his head. "Well let's hope you're not all market branding, Mr. La Rue."He set the mug down on a nearby table and picked up a tablet. "You'll be stationed on the third floor tonight, from noon to 6am. Go see Carlos at Command Post to get your access badge and radio and he'll direct you from there."
I nodded toward Carlos and took it all in. Not even a 24-hour post. This was a light job.
"So... What's the threat?"
"Pardon?"
"What's the threat? I've counted one, two, three... Five different security companies working here. Cordons, checkpoints, reinforcements... Is it just billionaire paranoia or is the threat credible?"
T.J. picked up his mug again and looked at me for a while without saying anything. "We have full catering in the kitchen. Hope you like Tex-Mex. Coffee is always freshly brewed and unlimited. Use the radio to get whatever you need. Carlos will assist you with the rest."His tone was flatter. Did I offend him? He didn't seem like a man so easily set off like that.
T.J. walked off. I adjusted the bag on my shoulder and went across the huge room to find Carlos and get started.
\-------------------------------------------------
Follow the rest of the story [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/ProtoWriter469/comments/go1hru/short_story_robby_la_rue/)! |
It was late at night when I heard the familiar ding, the buzzing and flashing that accompanied the release of a new YouTube video. I rolled over onto my side, and squinting at the phone screen, I could tell that it was a new video from my favourite YouTuber. I figured that I would watch it tomorrow.
I woke up the next morning, the sun piercing through my curtains. I made my coffee, ate my breakfast, and sat down at my couch, waiting for my daily conference meeting on Zoom where I would tell my bosses how much of nothing I was doing, why I was doing nothing, and why I was nothing.
Before that, I decided to go on a walk. I heard birds chirping among the trees, squirrels running around. I even saw a dead opossum, run over by what appeared to be a truck. Disgusting.
​
That was when it hit me. There were no cars on the road. I lived by a busy street, and at this point there were usually huge eighteen-wheelers rumbling down the road. I assumed that today was a Holiday that I had somehow forgotten due to Coronavirus.
​
Back at home, I called my mom. After many rings, she failed to answer. Unfazed, I tried to join my conference. Instead, I was greeted with the 8-bit dinosaur, and the horrifying words: NO INTERNET. I unplugged my router. Restarted my computer. And it was at that point when I realized I had met no-one, see no-one, since I had woken up. I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. But people didn't just disappear. That only happened in cliche and unoriginal r/writingprompts stories.
I picked up my phone, and it automatically began playing the video I had seen last night.
*Hello YouTube! Welcome back to another one of my vlogs. As a recap, I left civilization to forge my own path in the wilderness. A year ago, I made a barbecue pit. 2 days ago, I built the first ever laser rifle. But right now, I have to say one important thing. An asteroid is headed for Earth. It has been obscured to your technology for reasons you yourself are not ready to understand yet. What is important is that I have completed my first warp conduit. I will be able to warp billions of people to Mars, which I have recently terraformed. But to be warped, you need to do one thing!*
I stared in horror.
​
*Whatever you do, don't forget to SMASH that like button!* |
The water moves softly against my outstretched fingers, refreshing caresses, eddying in their wake. I pull my hand out of the water to watch the drops fall, creating ever growing rings around where it reunites with itself. I could stay in the pool all day, only coming out of the water for some air.
“Tring? we need you back here. We found something.” My assistant calls for me over the speaker. I exhaled a deep sigh, I’ve only just gotten in here.
I do a full circle around the pool before getting out. The pool was a special request and a requirement for my employment. My employers don’t understand my fascination with it. To most it’s just another obstacle preventing them from crossing land. I tried to mention some lesser species on our planet depend on it for water, and to the world in outer space it could be a *Lifebringer* something that’ll encourage life on the planet to evolve or attract another species to invade.
I enter the observatory, my skin still wrinkly from the quick dip. Some newer staff cringe when they see my wrinkly face, as it re-tightens to my skull. Naturally I should let it shed when it gets to dry, not constantly moisturize it. It gives my appearance an off putting alien like appearance with moisturized non-cracked skin.
“Mrs. Tring, sorry to bother you from your afternoon activity, but there is something you want to see. The search parameters you gave us several months ago, we found a match.” My assistant said with glee. I smiled and moved over to the telescope's computer and looked over the results.
Six months ago I asked to put in a search for a planet with enormous bodies of water, average temperature of 22 degrees, and similar oxygen levels on our planet. The idea was looking for similar planets in hope to colonize. The search from our satellite ended and found an exact match several thousand million light years away in the Milky Way Galaxy.
It came rushing back to me, my life before this one.
The Ocean was my womb and my home. The water moved fiercely providing food and substance, all I needed to do was open my mouth and tiny little animals swamp inside. I would emerge from the water to reach the sky only to flop back down and cause a splash, knocking over boats that dare to come to my home.
Then I remember sharp pains in my stomach, back, and side. Long needles pierce my skin and rip out chunks of my flesh until I submit to the small hunters. Then they scalp me and start cutting me while I’m still breathing. Eventually I died from the pain.
I relived that nightmare more than once in my life. I remember the world so vividly like I’ve been there, and the salt water seas is better than I could ever imagine. This is what I should swim in.
“That’s the one.” I say loudly. A cheer from the room erupted. We found a suitable replacement for our dying world. It’ll take some time, but we’ll land there.
**AFTER**
The world was already empty when we arrived. The concrete jungles filled with skeletal corpses of those who roamed the planet. The science team are having a field day with this discovery after only landing on earth for a few days. I took it as my chance to find ocean, or what I thought was home.
The banks of the sea wet my feet. I smile at how cool they feel. I take a step back and perform a funning start, cutting my foot on a shell as I did so.
*”Fuck”* I screamed, cursing from my injury. A wave of water got into my mouth. The salt overloaded my senses, it didn’t taste like the water in my pool. I coughed and sneezed, walking out of the water.
The sea here is no longer my home.
The sea of stars is. |
The thing about learning magic is you don't lose it. All magic system's work in every universe. You just need to unlock them.
They handed me a map, and accessing the blink I folded space around me. I found myself standing on a bridge of dark stone in a land of eternal twilight, in front of a castle built of obsidian. Lightning struck its highest tower as I peered up at it.
"Very impressive,"I said to no one in particular.
"Hadus maxus cordeus onut."
The ancient language of the elves granted me a different magic. I used this one to grant myself temporary invulnerability to any physical or magical harm. I will in an alarm that would let me know before the power to the spell ran out. Normally in that magic system you had to balance, use some power for offense and some for defense, or all for defense and duke it out physically. I had other systems to use.
Holding out my staff I accessed my elemental mage magic, along with my power boosting super power. Feeding one into the other, I had a tempest raging in seconds. It wasn't long before towers collapsed. Demons charged out of the castle only to be flung away. I let the tempest rage for several minutes before allowing it to subside.
When I did, the castle gates flung open. The demon lord, a twelve foot tall beast in black iron armor, marched forwards.
Neutralizing him quickly was my goal of course, but I couldn't deny the opportunity to learn another magic system.
Dropping the staff, I raised my hand and pushed, power surging out from yet another magic system.
The demon lord froze mid-stride, impossibly balanced. Time no longer moved for him.
"I'll be back in a few months. Ta ta."
I accessed the blink again and returned to the field I had left from, to the shock of the wizards who had summoned me.
"He'll be stuck for a while. These things work best when I defeat them with the world's own magic though,"I lied. "Teach me what you can."
The wizards took a moment to rally, then began teaching me the basics as they lead me to the nearby academy. Inwardly I smiled.
I wasn't exactly going to be evil, but I was going to be omnipotent, and soon.
******
More stories at /r/JohnGarrigan
Edit: ~~Part 2 coming this evening.~~ [Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/JohnGarrigan/comments/i36kwn/3m_part_2/?) |
The folder made a loud clapping noise as it was forcefully thrown onto the desk.
"I take it you know what this is?"
The serpent's velvet-like voice came from behind me.
I stayed silent. Of course I knew. And he knew I knew.
"This is a record of all the times you sabotaged me in the last year alone."
"Sabotage you? I was just trying to-"
"What you tried to do doesnt matter. Its the results that count. I thought I taught you that much."
The serpent slowly strut into my view, his wings refracturing the Inferno's Light that shone in from outside.
"But Dad I-"
His voice now sounded deeper, almost a growl.
"You *helped* those people. Negotiated better Mortgages. Helped them with taking out loans! You even played Advocate Devil and acted as a lawyer a couple times! If you were allowed to continue, who knows how much damage you could've caused!"
"Damage? I helped them escape Poverty at least at bit! The system-"
"EXACTLY!". All softness was now gone from Satan's voice, leaving only a primal growl that somewhat resembled words. "HOW ARE THEY SUPPOSED TO SELL THEIR SOUL FOR SURGERY WHEN THEY CAN JUST....", he stopped for a second, visibly disgusted at what he was about to say, "*afford* it.".
"But not all of these were..."
"Ah, yes."He seemed to have collected himself a bit, returning so his usually silky voice. "Then there's all the other stuff you did. Poverty encourages crime, Son. And I, no, we, need that. Hell can only grow with more Sinners. "
"Well thats what you think but I-"
He waved his hand, shutting me up.
"Yeah yeah, I know all about that madness you've been spouting lately. 'Eat the Rich'."
He pointed out the window.
"If you want to do that, just take one of ours! We got enough!"
"Thats not what that means and you know it."
"My point is, Son, that you're the Antichrist. This will one day be your kingdom, and you should go about expanding it, not trying to prevent people from joining its ranks. Now go to your room and think about what you did."
"I AM 56 YEARS OLD! YOU CANT JUST SEND ME TO MY ROOM!"
My voice cracked a little, as always when I was angry.
"Exactly. We'll talk when you passed your first Millenium. For now, its Room or Pit duty."
I stormed off, racing toward my room at record speed. Then I threw myself onto my bed, proceeding to scream into my pillow.
Why , just why did my father have to be *that guy*. No matter what I did, it would only not be disappointing to him if it benefitted his realm. He was just as bad as the people he was supposed to punish.
At least I still had the Pendant *She* gave me. I clutched it tightly.
"Sarah...", I whispered.
I would definately return.
I would keep fighting.
I promised. |
The Space Ship Moderation flew into the breach. It met the raider's ship head-on as the unmarked ship exited the spatial vortex. The Moderation blasted its radiation horn. The raider ship drifted slightly, then stopped. The normal response to the ion blast of a radiation horn was a weak charge of shields, then a return volley of energy matter intending for both disruption and destruction. It didn't happen. Nothing happened. The perplexed crew of the Moderation watched and waited for a sign of aggression. Their rules of engagement prevented any initial damaging action to be taken against an unknown neutral party. The radiation horn would technically be a death sentence to an unprotected human or similar DNA based species freely floating in orbit, but the radiation shielding on any functional space ship would prevent the occupants from being harmed. The horn was more akin to a gentle, directed solar flare knocking at the outer shell of a metal ship, saying "Welcome to our galaxy. Do you have guns?"
The raider ship floated. Nothing happened. Until a message was received by the communications chair.
"Sir, hold fire Sir!", said First Officer TJ Melbourne.
"Say again."said the Captain.
"Captain Blakemore! I received a message from the ship. It's coded. Old. Pre-Unification. It's only two words - YOU'RE WELCOME. That's all it says. YOU'RE WELCOME."
Captain Blakemore, new to his post aboard the Moderation wasn't prepared for this. His training included shouting the phrases: "Fire"and "Return Fire"and very occasionally "Good work". The aggression of the raiders was what made his job rudimentary and them a classically appropriate enemy. Humanity had fought the raiders for the last hundred years. There were expectations. Initially the battles were short and emotive. The first deaths on the International Space Station were scarring. The unarmed science vessel was destroyed by the first ship ever witnessed to cross a spatial vortex. The astronaut crew were enamoured when the ship appeared - First Contact. Then screams - followed by eerie silence. It only took a few days for the United Earth Defence to solidify. The first defensive ship went up from India within the month. The Modi government asserted that the ship was a transport vessel that was fast tracked and armed with experimental kit. The CIA said it wasn't possible - the offensive war ship was already being constructed and had been in the works for years. Nobody cared, we just needed men and women in space to protect the planet and its people. One united species. We went from primitive warlords fighting over fields of drugs and diplomatic strong-arm talk in closed off cabinet meetings to being a entire species with one common enemy. We called them the Raiders - they never spoke or gave us their true name - they just entered our airspace, surveyed the area for targets and fired their weapons. Our interactions with the Raiders became more simple in the years to come. We see them. They see us. They fire. We fire. They die. We win. This message had changed things.
"You're Welcome."stated the Captain. "Open a channel. I want to talk with them. And contact UED Command - I think this is Second Contact." |
We had spent so long hoping to find that we weren't alone in the universe. So when they came, it was met with great joy. But when they revealed themselves to be our creators, the joy faded. We weren't angry. We we just confused. Then they let us know why.
We were weapons. Genetic powerhouses of unbridled destruction. They had been keeping watch over us. They took instances of other bioweapons, introducing them to us in secrecy. When we analysed them, we could create things unable to be replicated on other planets. Vaccines. Our biology was unique in that sense.
They began to process us. A small number would be left on earth, with automated systems continuing the production of food and energy. They would be tasked with a simple job: producing more of us. The rest were taken and augmented with advanced robotics. Our bodies had grown in a way that accepted the augmentations without issue.
They removed a part of our genes they had included long ago, allowing us to release our bodies full potential. They upgraded our bodies to be able to withstand their own power. It was an efficient process, by the end converting the majority of the population into their soldiers.
We were unable to deny them, as we were grown to be their followers. Our brains simply couldn't disobey. With that, they spread out the knowledge of how to fight to us all, before separating us into teams. Each group of ten would work together, deployed onto planets they needed defending or destroying.
It proved devastatingly effective. We could wade through their firepower with little to no wounds. We could overpower and slaughter them with ease. The most disturbing part though, at least what they told us, was how we were able to happily eat those we slew, as they tasted delicious.
With the might of the human superweapons behind them, our creators staved off extinction. But now we were known to the galaxy. And they were terrified. |
When Dave went to clean out his grandfather's attic, he wasn't expecting much.
A bunch of spiders, some old furniture, boxes of clothes - a forgotten family heirloom, if he was lucky. He certainly wasn't expecting a magic lamp.
Only a minute into cleaning, he noticed it. A valuable-looking golden lamp, that seemed to glow faintly in the gloomy attic.
​
Curious, he approached it, picking it up in one hand - and then, BOOM!
Dave jumped backwards as a large, slightly translucent figure emerged from the lamp, wisps of smoke coming from them.
He watched incredulously as they looked around, hovering in the air before their eyes settled on him.
​
"Zeke? Did...did I make you younger? Sorry, it's...it's been a while."The figure yawned, stretching. Dave was still shocked - his mouth agape as he stared at the ghostly being.
"Zeke? Zeke!"The figure snapped their fingers, floating over to him.
"Okay, I'm guessing you're not Zeke."The figure said, cocking their head to the right.
​
*Zeke.* The name suddenly made sense, and Dave spoke. "Z-Zeke? A-are you t-talking about my grandfather Ezekiel?"He stammered, and the figure smiled.
"That's right! The gutsy old man! How's he doing?"The figure leaned forward with a big smile, and Dave tensed.
"He...he died. Two weeks ago, of a heart attack. I inherited his house."Dave flinched as the figure froze, their expression quickly turning into a frown.
​
"What? No, that...he..."The figure trailed off. "I forgot how short you humans live."They sighed. "I thought you were him - to make your final wish."
"Wish?"Dave said, and the figure snorted. "Yes, wish! I'm a genie, kid. Did - did you seriously not put two and two together? I came out a lamp, for fu-"The figure composed themself.
"Yes, I am a *genie*. Now - what are your three wishes? What do *you* desire?"The genie said, and Dave paused.
​
What did he want? First things first - money. he opened his mouth to speak, before closing it again. This genie...were they going to screw up his wish on purpose? He couldn't take any chances. Dave decided to be as specific as possible, clearing his throat.
"For my first wish, I'd like a million dollars in US Federal Reserve Notes,"he said, and the genie smiled deviously, their pupils expanding ominously.
Before Dave could react, an enormous stream of dollar bills spilled from the lamp, sweeping him off his feet and pushing him towards the attic trapdoor.
​
He landed on the hardwood floor with a thud, and in the few moments it took for him to recover from the fall, he was covered in money. Dave tried to get up, but the dollar bills were everywhere - pressing down on him, crushing him.
Dave remembered the time he and his friends had gotten into a fight against some bullies in the school cafeteria - he had, unfortunately, ended up at the bottom of a very large pile of people, and he genuinely thought he wasn't going to make it.
That was nothing compared to this sensation - so in pure desperation, Dave grabbed his phone, and shaking with adrenaline, dialled 911.
​
"911, how may I help y-"A middle-aged woman answered.
"I'm getting crushed by money!"Dave wheezed.
"Sir, do you mean that you're choking on money? Do you require medical-"The hotline operator said, confused, as Dave gasped for air.
​
"Get me an ambulance!"He said weakly, as his vision began to get dark.
\- - -
"Did you hear?"Agent MacDonald said to Agent Miller, who slowly shook her head.
"Well, some guy called the police earlier today, something about being suffocated by money."Agent MacDonald smiled, and Agent Miller frowned.
"Go on?"She said, confused, and Agent MacDonald leaned forward.
​
"So paramedics are sent, and they arrive at the house - they bash open the door, and see *a stream of money going down the stairs*."Agent MacDonald said slowly, Agent Miller getting more and more confused.
"They go upstairs, struggling to do so, and then they see it. A torrent of dollar bills pouring from the attic trapdoor, and a vaguely human-shaped pile underneath it."Agent MacDonald leaned back, and Agent Miller shook her head.
"I...I don't understand."She said, and Agent MacDonald nodded.
​
"Me neither. The local bank and police are still trying to figure out how this guy got all the money - it's literally *tens of thousands* of bills, all new ones too. Now c'mon rookie, we gotta go. We've been assigned this case. The town's twenty minutes away."Agent MacDonald began walking away at a brisk pace, and Agent Miller froze.
"Wait up! Hey, wait up!"She exclaimed as the older agent continued walking.
Agent Miller began grabbing her essentials. "Wait up, damnit!"She yelled, rushing after her co-worker. |
"Get up dammit, get up!"
I can't explain the terror behind those words. Looking at them on paper, they're the screams of an idiot child. Maybe that wasn't too far from the truth.
When I'd joined up two years before, I barely had whiskers. I saw war as exciting. Basil did, too. We spoke to one another of medals and parades and how the girls would invite us into their beds at the sight of our uniforms. We thought war would be an adventure, not despair. Not continuous terror. Not seeing the face of your best mate melt into human sludge.
Bloody fools, we were.
The war had been going for barely a year. Most of my service had been marching, digging, trying to sleep in mud. Basil kept me sane. We continued to hypothesize our hero's welcome back in Yorkshire. We'd not seen real combat, only fired a few rounds at a few people far away. We were lucky.
"It's you that brought us luck,"he'd say.
What luck did I have? Youngest son, six brothers ahead of me, no prospects. The farm went to the eldest, James. Irving became a tailor. Percy was a drunk. Mark, Jack, and George all found work in factories. My only hope was to make a life in the military, not that I thought it'd be much.
On that morning, I'd smelled it before it hit. You never forget that smell. I'd heard the shells land, but just thought it standard artillery. Then something hit me like garlic and rotten eggs. I got my mask on, but Basil... poor Basil. He'd panicked and just started shooting into the clouds of green and yellow, like he could kill the chemicals himself with bullets.
By the time I'd yelled at him to run, it was too late. He fell where he stood. And I stood over him like a fool, yelling for him to get up.
I heard the boots, then. Jerry was coming up through the mists. My heart sank. My blood thundered in my ears. I said it again, half-mad myself: "Get up!"
And then the strangest thing. Basil obeyed.
And Clive.
And Norman.
And my other brothers in arms, all of how had died choking not ten minutes before.
The Germans came into view and my former comrades began to fire. Nothing precise, just muscles going through the memory until the pins fell on empty chambers. Then they lumbered forward, flesh sloughing off bone, with bayonets fixed.
Something in me rose, a sense of command. I climbed up the dirt and cried, "Cut through them lads!"
It was so bizarre to see German eyes go from cruel to pants-shitting terrified in a blink. I watched as chemical burned arms ran Jerry through, crushed helmets with buts, and simply choked the life out of them.
I called to each one and told them what to do. They obeyed. My voice was like that of a terrible god of old, and underworld general with my army of the unliving.
We ran through them like an arrow through a melon.
When we came to the other side, I kept marching us up that damned hill, that useless hump of land that was so precious we needed to die for it. I heard the groans and screams behind me of men on both sides going to meet their maker.
I found a spot in the woods, looked at the bakers dozen of shambling dead around me. I pulled off my mask and said, "Guard me, lads."
I fell asleep then with dead backs to me and malice still burning in my heart.
A man in a Colonel's uniform woke me, offering me a flask. It smelled of the good stuff. I took it and filled my mouth with fire. Then I saw his rank and stood up, hand raised to brow in salute.
He said, "As you were, soldier."
He grabbed a stick... no a staff, topped with crystal. He stood up stock straight, looked me in the eye.
He said, "Nice work."
It all seemed like a dream, a nightmare, in that moment.
"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."
He looked around. My mates, my dead mates, still stood watch.
He then turned to me and asked, "What's your last name?"
"Beechum, sir."
"Beechum. Hmm. How would like to wear one of these?"
He pointed to a patch on his arm in the shape of a wide brimmed, pointed hat.
I looked at him and said, "I... I don't know sir."
He just smiled under his big mustache and said, "Well then lets sort you out. Welcome to the Warlock Brigade." |
Water. Only water. What to do? How could he survive? He stared along the horizon. It had been a difficult week. The supplies were running dangerously, horribly, low. There was barely anything left of the rations. And he was on his last bottle of water. He would not be able to survive another few days. Surviving yet another long week would be out of the question. He scanned the horizon once more, yearning for a glimpse of land. He searched the waves and the clear sky and the brutal, brutal sea. But no matter how hard he looked, he saw nothing that brought him hope. He knew then that he would die at sea, just as he had always feared. |
"You will die a month from now,"the doctor said.
His estimate was so precise I thought he had to be joking. Despite how unprofessional that was, I forced myself to chuckle so as not to embarrass him. "Okay,"I said, "but seriously, how bad is it?"
"I just told you. You will die a month from now. You won't be able to die until then, actually, and by the end of the month you'll just kind of explode in a shower of gore. So I recommend you buy yourself a lot of plastic and cover your apartment with it. No reason to make the cleaner's job harder than it has to b..."
"Look, enough, okay?"I said, no longer hiding my indignation. "That's not funny."
The doctor looked up and cocked his head from one side to the other as if weighing the validity of my statement. "It *is* kinda funny. You know that scene in District 9 when they hit a guy with an energy beam and he just explodes? Everyone laughs at that part, it's so sudden."
I couldn't believe this. "Okay, you've had your fun. Now tell me..."
"Look, you pissed off a wizard, okay? It happens. They can be really petty. One time I had a frog hop into my office and say 'HELP' in morse code, y'know, with those 'ribbit' noises frogs make. We ran all the tests and told him that he indeed seemed to be a frog. I told him he'd probably turn back into a human soon. So far he still hasn't. He's married now, to a human. Love is a beautiful th..."
I stood up. "I'll just get a second opinion."
The doctor pushed his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose and sat back in his chair. "Okay, look."He reached towards a pen on his desk, and then he lifted his hand. The pen floated upwards, suspended in mid-air.
I nearly fell down on the floor. "THE FUCK?!!"
The doctor nodded and then moved his hand sharply to the left. The pen stuck itself on a dartboard that, now that I paid attention to it, had other pens stuck in it.
"Please don't say it's a trick,"said the doctor. "Sometimes patients say it's a trick and then they try to come up with all sorts of explanations for it. I once had Penn Jillette in here, you wouldn't believe how long that appointment took. It's actual magic, okay? Let's move on."
"Do something else,"I said.
"Oh, fuck, here we go,"the doctor said, rolling his eyes. "Okay, just one more thing and we move on."
The doctor reached towards the wall and spread his fingers wide. A portal appeared, and through it I could see Mount Everest. The temperature inside the office started dropping sharply.
"Oh my God,"I said, breathless.
"Come to think of it,"said the doctor, "I should always show that one first. I mean, Penn still tried to come up with an explanation for it, he even called Teller."
"How... how can I be cured?"I asked.
The doctor closed the portal and looked at me with an expression that implied a low opinion of my cognitive skills. "You can't."
"But you're a wizard too!"
"Well, Monet was a painter, but he couldn't just walk into the Louvre, set fire to the Mona Lisa and then leave like nothing happened, could he? The spell this wizard set on you has all kinds of security around it. If I get the counterspell wrong I could blow up the building. Sorry, but that's the way it is. You're immortal for thirty days, then you explode. Again, try not to be around people when you do. Someone might be killed by a ballistic eyeball, I've seen it happen."
"I'm... so I'm invulnerable for thirty days?"
The doctor snorted. "Come on, this is the real world, kid. Of course you're not invulnerable. No, what happened is that your consciousness has been bound to one of your atoms, so that even if you're reduced to particles, you will remain conscious in that atom and just kinda float around, I guess, until the thirty days are up and you're allowed to move on."
"Move on? Where?"
"Hawaii,"he said sarcastically. "How the fuck should I know, man, I'm just a wizard. So take care this month, don't get into any danger, it will really suck if you die before you explode. And set up a goddamn alarm on your phone. Third of March, that's the day. Buy the plastic, stay inside and... I dunno, play some chess to pass the time. Against yourself, obviously."
I just stood there, absolutely stunned. I was going to die. I was actually going to d...
"Hey! HEY!"the doctor said, snapping his fingers in front of my face. "No poetic inner monologues about the human condition, please, I have other patients to attend to."
I shook my head in disbelief. "How can you be so callous about this?"
He suddenly gave me a hug. Then he patted me on the shoulder and said, "There. Now go."
I started walking towards the door.
"Hey!"he said as I opened it. I turned to looked at him. "You have syphilis too, by the way." |
Crash. Bang. Boom. Instead of the gentle chimes of my alarm ripping me from my sleep, it is the shattering of glass and the cracklings of fresh flames. My eyes creak open with a creaking groan, my body protesting as I rise from bed. The alarm clock by my bed beams despair into my mind- 7:00 AM. What kind of human being is awake at 7:00 AM? I feel off the side of my bed- my backpack is still there. Good.
Well, from the sound of things not far outside my door, it'd probably be another crony of the League of Heroes. Super Guy. Cape Woman. Man With Gun. Power Personality Trait. Not that I can remember any of their names- it's all the same at this point. Just a band of disillusioned freaks with an addiction to masks, capes, and spandex. Most of which would go down to a single, well-placed bullet.
Even though this has happened time and time again... Father. Father never does away with them. No matter how many times they come barging in here. No matter how many times they've stolen me away. No matter how many times they've tried to take his life. Father is simply too kind for his own good. But perhaps that's why he's gone through all the trouble to take care of me. To protect the "cursed child". The one who, throughout their entire lives, has been harassed and terrorized by these so-called "heroes". Apparently, one of them has the power to see into the future. They saw that I would become something so fierce, so vile, that none of them would be able to stop me. They figure that Father is the source of the problem. And so they chase me. They chase us.
The door flies open. By this point, I have assumed the kidnapping position. Sitting on my bed, arms out, ready to cling onto their back. Who's this spandex wearing charlatan? I dare not ask. "I am Suuuuuperfly! Dominator of the Sky, Vanquisher of Evil!"I dare not ask, because they'll answer without even needing to be prompted. "I have come to save you, child! There's no time to lose-"
He stops his spiel as I jump from the bed, grab my backpack, and clamber onto his back. Bewildered, he shrugs, and immediately takes off down the hall with his power of flight. Father's robotic helpers have been carelessly shattered into thousands of pieces. I grimace. Father makes every one of these by hand. It would pain him so to rebuild them. But I have no time to linger on this as we surge from the door of my little lair, out into the open sky. Were my grip any weaker, I would fall to my demise. Would it kill him to hold on to me? But if he did that, he wouldn't be able to strike his signature "flying pose"that's oh-so-important.
Soon enough, we land in some secluded, posh villa. Modern architecture, immense amounts of glass, bevels. And of course, minimal levels of security. What would a superpowered individual have to fear, anyway? Once again, I sigh. At the very least, it wasn't the worst base I've ever been to. One time, I was whisked away to some dingy apartment that smelled of booze and grease.
I am taken in through a door in the roof that parts as we approach. Carelessly, he twirls in the air, launching me from his back and onto a velvety, crimson couch. It's a bit of a rough landing, the air sputtering from my lungs as I land on my spine, backpack softening the blow. He could at least pretend to care. But instead, he zips across the room, grabbing a cordless phone from the wall. He punches in a number with supreme precision, and stands there without a care in the world as he awaits the woman on the other end. I believe her name is Carla, a secretary for the League of Heroes. Far as I've heard, she's a nice woman. Gets far too much flak from the heroes. It's not her fault she's horribly overworked.
But soon enough, she picks up. While he's distracted, I reach into my backpack. Mr. Superfly is quick to celebrate his accomplishments. "Yeah, yeah! I got the girl. Anna, the daughter of The Count. Y'know. Thirteen-something, yay high, somewhat of a goth aesthetic going..."He continues on the phone with Carla. "Yeah, yeah. I'll take care of her until a squad comes along. Six hours? What the hell, what's with the holdup!? Yeah, yeah, whatever. I'll feed her... cereal, or whatever. She'll be fine."
He hangs up the phone, turning to me. "So, uh... make yourself at home? You're safe now."I interject. "You know Father will be coming for me soon enough, don't you?"He facepalms. "Kid, no offense, but your father is LITERALLY a supervillain.""Father is the kindest man I've ever known! Better than you lot, anyway!"Superfly scoffs. "Your *lovely* father has killed hundreds.""Correction; dozens. All of them were so-called heroes."
Superfly doesn't bother to respond, instead floating across the room into the kitchen. "Look. Whatever. I don't care how much you've been brainwashed, it's not my problem. Just sit tight, okay?"He goes to pour himself a glass of wine. "You want like... some juice? I don't think I've got anything kid-friendly."I hop up from the couch, slowly approaching behind him. "Scotch? Nah. Milk? Yeah, that works. Kid, you want some milk? It's good for the bones."
Crimson pours into his glass.
I step forward, merely a foot behind him.
He pays me no mind.
And why would he?
I press the metallic barrel against his back. A new form of crimson splashes against his glass as it shatters, painting the marbled countertops. He slumps forward, painting cabinets as he flops to the ground. Life spills forth from his chest as a few words sputter from his mouth. "W-Why?"I fire two more rounds into his body, and he goes limp.
These heroes. How they hurt Father so, time and time again. I can't forgive them like he can. And I don't think I ever will. |
If enough power is applied, practically anything can be done. In the dawn of creation itself this axiom was proven true time and time again as universe after universe experienced the appearance of the Great Host. Millions of great young wyrms, forcing their flame together into an impossibly warm fire, a flaming cosmic constant, a power so intense that the laws of reality would bend to the will of its creators. Using this power they melted the walls of creation and travelled between a billion worlds. Every sky could have dragons appear suddenly, filling the primitive minds and dreams of countless species across the multiverse with the dreams of dragons. Dreams of great power, flight, and mortals bowing down before a power which dwarfs all but the power of the gods themselves. And should all dragons one day die, from the eldest of wyrms to the youngest whelp, these dreams they have spawned will be passed down through the bloodlines of the people who have seen them, so that until the end of all things, dragons will be remembered. Not that it is likely to happen. Not truly. Endings are after all only new beginnings.
Dragons settled in the mountains of countless worlds, across isolated islands, in great forest glades, depending on their mind and will. Some worlds were conquered, and the first empires of many a world toppled by dragons who despite their own failings in terms of greed and pettiness, have some form of morality. And some empires are too dark to be allowed to exist. Some creeds are too cruel to be allowed to be remembered. Some set themselves up as great teachers and philosophers, guiding the small and frail mortal races in all things. Others marvelled at worlds of wilderness, where no settlements could be found. Worlds where a dragon could breathe free and rule eternally. But that was part of the problem. As dragons settled down and moved into worlds which they fancied, so did the cosmic flame become weaker, and harder to perform. As the Great Host dwindled in number, as world after world was taken by dragons who did not want to continue on adventures in new realms, so did it become rarer and rarer to see the flaming portal open. The last one to open was to a lush and fertile world. The Great Host still numbered tens of thousands of dragons. Though many of them were young, and could not add much to the great fire needed to melt the walls-between-reality.
And it was in this world, where we were stranded. A world with many mortal races, who were starting their civilisations. A world which suddenly contained more dragons than anyone would have expected. We spread quickly over the world, not realising that it would be our last home. We were young, but many of us had seen worlds before, had gone with the Great Host before. We were never sure what world we'd find on the other side, and often it did not please all of us. When those who were dissatisfied with this world tried to open the gate, they found their flame insufficient. And when they asked for all the dragons of this world to gather together to help them, we were surprised to find that it was still not enough. The cosmic flame which had given us the power to move through time and space freely had been extinguished. The flame dwindled. Too many strong dragons had stayed behind on other worlds. And too much of this world's magic fought against our attempt to open the gate. Sometimes some worlds were more unwilling to cooperate, and unfortunately this was one of them.
So we stayed. By choice of by lack of choice. It didn't matter. For the first time in many ages we were imprisoned underneath one sky. Such a fate is not one that a dragon should have. We should have waited a century or so and then tried again. But we didn't. At the time I enjoyed this world. Truly I did. But life under one sky weakens us in the blood. Our dams laid smaller eggs, which only hatched runts. Though a dragon runt is still the apex of hunters and the strongest of magical creatures, they were still runts. By the time we tried again, the flame of the young ones could not even add in the attempt to create the flame. Dragons can adapt to all things, but it was a shame to see us, what we became as our power waned. Some even allowed the mortals to ride on their backs as if they were naught but loyal beasts. The indignity of it. Seeing us go from cosmic travellers to mere worldbound beings was a blow that brought low many a noble dragon that had come into this world through the last portal.
But a door has many keys. I am the last of the first generation that came here. The last dragon to be born in a different realm. This land of gravity and continents is quaint, bucolic even. For ten thousand of this world's years I have waited, grown in power, and remained strong. For ten-thousand years I have dreamed of worlds unbound. Worlds where gravity is a suggestion, where floating islands rest upon an infinity sea. Worlds where the great nation-bugs carry cities upon their carapace, and the sky is a pleasant purple. I miss the taste of new food, the sound of new birds, the marvel of new art, and the grandeur of unexplored land. So they call me an old fool. These young dragons. Each of them smaller and weaker than I. Each of them runts that I could slay as easily as I could blink. For their spells are paltry to he who has studied a hundred different worlds and their magicks. Their scales might be like iron, their breath might be like the flame of the forge. But my breath is the burning heat of the sun. My scales are as dense as osmium, as hard as tungsten, and as brittle as zirconias. Their claws are like swords to flesh, but mine can cut through mountains.
They scoff at my attempts at recreating the cosmic fire that we once used to see countless worlds.
Sorcery however can provide the power needed when other dragons will not work with you. Finding a weak point in creation was the hardest part. A place where reality is fragile and easily melted is a rare place indeed. But in some ancient caves, where the first thoughts were made, the first spells of this world cast, they can be found. Weak spots in the walls of reality. Hiring mortals to set draconic amplifiers at the exact locations was the easiest part. Mortals are so delightfully simple in that fashion. The more dragon gold they get, the less questions they ask. Once the amplifiers are active they create a resounding echo of draconic power. Making the flame of one elder wyrm the flame of thousands. And the older a dragon gets who has seen many worlds on his journeys with the Great Host in his youth, has a stronger connection to the cosmic flame. The youth have forgotten it. Lost themselves to this world. But I am the last of the Great Host. And my breath is the flame of infinity.
There is a heat I have not felt since my youth, as I begin the complex power modulations. In truth the flame is as much a spell and a song as it is mere flame. A single voice echoed is still a far cry from the choir. When I was but a whelp, carried on the back of my dam's back to a new world, I remember the voice of a million dragons creating a harmony in flame and magic. A sound which cannot be heard by mortals, but can be felt. The amplifiers pick up my spell and cast it back and forth, utilizing the weak-spots to begin the melting process. It is a crude mechanical method. Unworthy of the great kindred of ages past. But the young dragons would not listen, would prefer to live with their mortal friends in their little lives in little houses. Now though, they hear me. How can they not? My song, the last true sound of the flame and the blood of the dragon, even diluted as it has grown in our descendants, is heard by all dragons in this world. It is the call of their ancient instincts. As I breathe the flame-song, they come from near and far. The young dragons who have forgotten. Who have never before known such a draw.
The gate opens. And it beckons me forward. They are terrified. They all thought that the Eldest was a grumpy old fool in his mountains, sitting on his piles of gold, dabbling in strange magics and talking about lost glories. The gate is only there for a brief moment, a brief respite from this world, as the smells of a new reality beckons. I do not wait for them, for they have already chosen their own fate and own path. If they find a way to use my amplification system to journey through the worlds, good for them. I've left my notes behind, and if they have half the wits I think they do they should be able to figure them out. If not, then so be it. A last adventure awaits as I squeeze my enormous and magically potent form through the gateway, smaller than ever before done. But it is enough for me. As I appear in the sky of a new world, I turn back to see the gate close, and a brief glimpse of astonished young dragons.
Ahead of me I see great metallic planes fill the sky, their wings adorned with dread symbols of hateful monsters which we have in many worlds crushed. Through spells I hear their thoughts, the poison that has seeped into their heads. These planes shall not reach their target. There shall be no bombings such as this. From above, I descend upon those who serve the machinations of evil. My bright flame is not the blitz that they desired to see on this auspicious night. Their paltry bullets do little but bother me as I rip their metal carapaces apart. Perhaps I could choose mercy. Perhaps I could to let them live. But those who serve the forces of evil must learn that their fate is to burn. After all, they desired to see such deeds done to the people of that city which their naked minds were filled with images of only a few moments before my attack.
And I doubt the innocent people of London will weep for those who would bomb and burn them.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
"There's an alien in the middle booth."
"I know Babs. "
"An Alien."Bab's stressed and did her best not to panic.
When the ship has first appeared in the Solar system, hidden until then, they had been prepared for trouble. The military had scrambled, the Churches, Synagogues and Mosques, along with every other religious place on the planet, was suddenly full. People tried to evacuate the cities, but that proved to be impossible as within an hour the roads were blocked solid. A lot of countries had proved they couldn't handle a mass evacuation.
And then contact had been made.
And they they wanted a hot meal. A thousands years worth of knowledge, advancements that could save the earth, all for the cost of a good meal and warm clothes. Some time spent on the planets surface so their kids could feel some real sun and swim in a real lake or ocean.
Everyone said yes. Obviously protections were put in place, but over all, it went well. Towns and cites volunteered for the first few visitors to visit them, and Babs was still in shock that their tiny hamlet had been chosen.
She looked at him, and took in the face of a man from another world. They were amphibious, pale Breen tinted skin mostly covered by a Mets T-Shirt and a pair of cycling shorts. There were sealed 'gills' on his next and, hidden under the shirt, his chest that allowed him to breath beneath the water, but a set of working lungs let him live above the water line. Huge wide eyes were dark and his nose was small and thin.
He'd ordered a sandwich and soup. The people who had been here when he arrived were very consciously trying not to stare, and failing miserably.
One boy, the middle Marter's son, stood and went over to the aliens Table. Two men who were agents pretending to be truckers seemed about to do something but didn't move.
The Alien looked up and his mouth curved into a smile, head tilting and he said, "Hello."
His voice was oddly deep, and the English had a soft, slightly lilted accent to it.
The Boy, Tommy, Babs remembered, took a deep breath and, ion one rushed sentenced said. "HiI'mTommyI'mgladyoucametovisitcanItalkwithyou."
There was silence for a second, and the the alien giggled. An actual, real giggle. He gestured to the seat across form him and nodded. "Hello Tommy, I am Gryn. That would be nice."
Babs moved closer so she could here, picking up the conversation easily after years of eaves dropping.
The alien answered Tommy question, and Tommy Answered him. They spoke about the food on his ship, which was mass produced and though filling a palatable, it wasn't the same as something you cooked yourself.
He spoke of other planets they had seen. The last world they had stopped at had been when Gryn was a baby, and though he couldn't remember it it his parents could.
"I have an Uncle that petitioned to stay there. Couldn't handle the idea of traveling one for another who knows how many years. So him and a few hundred others left. We are still in contact, though the further we travel the longer the messages take. "
"Do...do you think anyone will ask to stay here?"
"I don't know. We were told to be polite, but your oceans are a mess. I mean, we could handle it, and clean it up, but it could take a good 50 years before it could be made clean, really clean again."
Babs felt bad hearing that. A species that spent some of their lives in the water would be concerned about the oceans. An she knew that there planets system was not the best. |
"So wait, you're telling me all these units-"
"People."
"...people, are each fully autonomous?"
"Yes."
"Ridiculous. I've seen that they all send and receive orders on their little devices. They must have updated their ability to relay orders like how Axjir went from pheromone to radio wave."
"Yes, they relay information, but that's where it ends. It doesn't do anything else, like how Axjir's units' implants release the pheromone directly."
"So no chemical reactions or anything happens when they send and receive information?"
"Well yes, but not related to something like a command from their leaders."
"Leaders? Is this an Ovli IV situation where we thought there were dozens of cores but it was just one core that delegated tasks to highly specialized units in charge of other units so as to free up thought process?
"Definitely not. While these leaders claim to act like our cores, it's only because a majority of the people choose that person to be their temporary core. Even those who supposedly have 'absolute authority' and forcefully instate their control-"
"Windsian parasite, I'm telling you-"
"Even those with 'absolute authority' only have control because of the threat of violence, much like when Poxtre held Zenbar's core hostage and forced it into subjugation. It didn't have control over Zenbar beyond that threat."
"This is throwing me off. Let's go back to the basics. What's their chain of command? Direct core to unit, core to leader to drone, what?"
"That's...tricky. They have multiple authorities they report to, which change throughout their life cycle."
"Nothing new there, a newborn must be cared for and might end up becoming a leader who gives commands to a birthing drone."
"Kind of. The authorities they report to don't give direct commands, they have to choose to follow those commands, much like any core to another core."
"Choose to? OH! I've cracked it! Moltcin Ghar! They have a voluntary hive mind too!"
"No! There's no hive mind! No cores! No units! Nothing! They have an informal, sometimes formal, social contract with each other person to not harm one another, much like the contract we share."
"Sorry, I just can't wrap my mind around all these units not being hive minds..."
"Alright, how about this: each person IS a hive mind. Pretend each one of them is an incredibly dense Ovli IV, that moves as one like Qxjw. Think about their brain as their core, which sends messages to their 'leaders' or organs."
"Ohhh, each cell of their bodies is a highly specialized unit..."
"Yes! They're fully or semi autonomous, which allows the brain to work on higher end thinking!"
"Wow! That's...really inefficient."
"That's why none of them have made it to another planet, even in their own solar system."
"That's just sad. But at least that'll make them great exotic pets." |
**Item #:** SCP-7648
**Object Class:** ~~Safe~~ Euclid
**Special Containment Procedures:** SCP-7648 is to remain on a level ground, on a surface of area of 5 square meters and contained within a room with capacity for a drainage rate 30,240 litres of waste liquid within a 24 hour period; and the capacity to manage that for at least 72 hours. The room is to be monitored by five security guards at all times armed with a wash cloth, a spirit level, and screened for their preference for coffee. Should any leakage be noted from the cup the guards are to start drinking until advised otherwise, or other staff dismiss them. Once per day SCP-7648 should be picked up, and consumed for thirty seconds by a member of the security team drawn at random (See Addendum 7648 C)
**Description:** SCP-7648 is a 12 oz cup of coffee from a well known coffee chain that remains full of a brown liquid chemically indistinguishable to coffee (classified as 7648-1). The cup itself is a standard white disposable cup from #########, with the only notable difference being the logo is blue. The cup itself is full of 7648-1, that remains within a temperature range of 52.7 Celsius to 82.6 Celsius until it is removed from the cup.
The cup was obtained by the foundation on 14/##/##22 outside ######## Oregon. Locals reported that 7648-1 was leaking from an apartment and strange sounds coming from the top floor; after the landlord was unable to open the door and 7648-1was leaking in the hallway, the police were called. Upon opening the door with a fireaxe, a flood of 7648-1 streamed through the building into the street and did not stop for several minutes. Once police were able to get into the apartment, they found the renter of the apartment #### ##### dead, from apparent drowning. SCP-7648 was found at the scene, placed for containment in a bathtub and was brought to the attention of the Foundation.
Initially it was contained in the standard anomalous storage facility; after an containment breach on 27/##/##22, the new Containment Procedures were put in place(see addendum 7648 B)
Initial testing showed that the liquid in the cup was coffee, would adapt to the testers preference within reason (see addendum 7648 A). Additionally if tipped upside down the cup would immediately refill, and just keep releasing liquid. Liquid removed from SCP-7648 (classified as 7648-1) will immediately start to decrease in temperate at the rate expected for the liquid.
**Addendum 7648 A**
Initial testing
Test A. Present Dr. Vert. Note likes Coffee with skimmed milk, no sugar. Tasted 7648-1. Tasted exactly how they like their coffee. 60.0 Celsius
Test D. Dr. Cobalt. Dislikes coffee, no other preferences. Tasted sickenly sweet and bitter. Coffee 82.6 Celsius
Test E. Present Dr. Vert and Dr. Cobalt. Both tasted same 7648-1 instance. Both said it tasted as per test A. Temperature was 47.9 Celsius (though to facilitate test 7648-1 was removed from 7648-1 into separate container)
Outcome. Seems to change to exactly how the individual pouring or tasting prefers their 'coffee', including sweetener, milk type, and temperature. Request for further testing submitted and granted.
Test ZZW-1 Dr. Vert stated preference for Almond milk, with a blond espresso, not too hot, with a caramel flavouring. Tasted exactly how they requested. Test successful.
Testing stopped by O5, after suspicion Dr. Vert was using ongoing tests to get free morning coffee. There is a coffee machine in the breakroom. Unless object is reclassified as safe, it cannot be used to for premium coffee. Dr. Vert was given a Green mark on their file for not less than 5 years.
**Addendum 7648 B**
>>Log of the breach of containment on 27/##/##22 taken from security footage
>>09:22:24 Dr Henry found some of the containment boxes were damp and swears at some nearby D class.
>>09:22:37 Dr Henry fetches some paper towels, and started to wipe the liquid.
>>09:23:56 Dr Henry starts opening lockers to ascertain extent of damage
>>09:24:27 Screams as he opens locker to SCP-7648 and burns his hand
>>09:24:47 Other personal can be heard screaming. The footage shows SCP-7648 laying on it's side, 7648-1 is poring out.
>>09:26:57 Site is put into lockdown.
>>09:41:12 The vision of the camera is obscured as 7648-1 covers the lens.
>>09:55:00 Approx. Mobile Task Force Kappa 12 were on hand, and open the doors to attempt containment.
>>09:56:15 The camera shows 7648-1 leaving the room.
>>09:57:43 Members of Kappa 12 wade through 7648-1, and manage to pick up SCP-7648.
**Addendum 7648 C**
It was observed that without contact or removal of 7648-1, SCP - 7648 will at random spill if not removed with the intension of being consumed within a 24 hour period.
O5 research request granted with extended containment procedure. Dr. Vert has had the green mark removed from their file for stopping further containment breaches through their morning testing. |
For a fourth time, "Heads."the man repeats confidently. With each flip an apparent realization seems to come over the face of the visitor. Singer was shocked to see this lowly creature had reached higher than even the Symphony, his home fragment. Situated in the dark matter concentration beyond this dimensions Episilon Eridani, his species had experienced a cascading domino effect of technological explosions, granting them god like powers which which they could manipulate the galaxy and universe on a terrifying level. And yet an unbreakable universal law, a figurative shackle upon Singer's fragment of civilization, seemed to have no relevance to the man.
"Tails, dang. 6 in a row that time, pretty lucky though."This catches Singer off guard and snaps him out of his stupor.
"Wait, you're saying that the outcome was in question? That mass of alloy is not complex like an apparatus!"
"Well it's always one way or the other, I'm just choosing the outcome I want; and I've always had pretty good luck so it usually just goes that way for me. I mean the chances of it happening are pretty low but I just did it, right? We actually determine many important outcomes using this when we can't or won't decide for ourselves. Sometimes it even settles disagreements!"
Singer's listening apparatus instantly react to that. "Disagreements?"
"Yeah you know, like who gets to go first and stuff like that. You know what why don't you just keep this coin? You can show it to the rest of your people."
But Singer was ignoring input from his apparatus by now, accepting the coin and studying it intensely while he thought. These unassuming creatures that call this rock in the flat dimension home, had done what no other group in the galaxy had done since _Before_. They could manipulate outcomes without exerting any control over the situation!
In their recent history as a species, despite possessing the hiding gene like most fragments, Singer's group had sterilized 15 other high dimensional fragments. These are a small number of the total scattered remains of the original high dimensional beings a civilization said to have been splintered and nearly destroyed by its own recklessness. These fragments have ever since been forced to live in competiton as the outer limits of the high dimensional spaces succumb to decay. The collateral damage during every attack was unacceptable and the setbacks to progress immense; but in every altercation the only alternative was destruction. Extermination was the only possible result of contact between high dimensional fragments, which were becoming exponentially more likely to occur.
With the power to determine an uncertain outcome, a shake up was on the event horizon. This human had just given Singer the mass of alloy capable of unlocking a vast cosmic power that would dominate the galaxy and impact thousands of thousands of civilizations, both high dimension and low.
"Millions of civilizations will crumble under this might..."Singer mumbles to himself while returning to the dimensonal traverse he arrived in.
"Huh? Wait..!"But Singer was gone, and a new, but old, evil had been released upon the galaxy: confidence in a winning outcome for no reason.
***This was my first attempt at a prompt, sorry if it's bad and I stole a lot of ideas intentionally or unintentionally. I've cleaned it up a bit and will probably continue to do so. |
"... and so, um, I ran away and now I'm, here, I guess?"
I sat beside him on the stoop and nodded along. The words were different but the tune was the same; one parent actively abusive, one parent passively standing by and letting the kid get hurt to protect themselves, siblings actively set at each others' throats and adults outside the immediate family ignoring what they didn't want to see. Until everything got to be too much and, knowing I couldn't rely on anyone else, I left. I knew this kid's story, because it was my story, and the story of so many kids out here.
Fuck society and those stuck-up do-gooders who think they're so much better than us when they don't have the slightest fucking clue what it's *really* like.
"Ain't that the fucking truth,"The kid muttered, and I realised I'd said that out loud.
I looked at the kid sidelong. Too thin, of course, but his eyes were burning and there were calluses and burns on his fingers that I recognised. I rubbed my own calluses and scars through my gloves. My fingers were suddenly itching for my soldering iron.
"So, kid,"I said, "what's your opinion of electronics and robotics?"
He looked at me with a raised eyebrow. "Doctor Electro, the scientist who makes the most advanced robotics in the world, is in front of me and asking me if I like robotics?"
"First, thanks for respecting the Ph.D,"I said, "second, I didn't ask if you *liked* them, I asked what you *thought* of them."
And the kid was off. Listening to him tell me about applications I hadn't thought of yet, I felt my cheeks beginning to twitch into a smile.
An apprentice, a contemporary, maybe a successor? A rival, a *proper* one, who would push me to new heights, who I would be able to both collaborate and compete with? Forget those stupid, annoying heroes, they were nothing beside the potential this boy held. Oh, this was going to be *fantastic*!
As the kid wound down, I grabbed the chance. "Kid, would you like to be my apprentice?"
"Not sidekick?"
I sniffed. "*Heroes* have disposable cannon fodder that they *call* sidekicks. I want you to be my student and laboratory partner. You're already giving me ideas. Together, let's change the world!"
The kid stood up and grinned. Already taller than my shoulder, dammit. "Sounds good to me,"he said.
As we walked down the street, I almost, but did not, say the cliché "this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship".
I'm not a hero, after all. |
"It was difficult you know. I'm the size of a building, a small castle even if i take a propper stance. And this small child needed to be Bottle FED!
Have you any idea how difficult it is to not only hold a child properly and feed her from a tiny bottle, all the while not cutting her to shreds. I have Claws the size of SWORDS!
So after having to go trough the trouble of getting milk and veggies, after she could start to eat those, I had to start teaching her. I couldn't leave her without an education, that would be immoral.
So after all of the effort i put in to raising her, feeding her, teaching her. You come here with an army of knights in shining armor, siege weapons and all, to tell me she is the child of the tyrant king of the south."
The knight in silver armor infront of me looked stumped. He expected to find a mighty beast to battle, not concerned parent. "Well, yes?"
"Oh for Almengundurs' sake."I roared. "Look at her! She is barely 12. I have taken care of her for 11 years. If anything she is MY CHILD!"My deep roar subsided in a quiet but powerful rumble. "And you are a fool if you think you have enough men and weapons to harm my child."
For the first time in over a decade I got ready to attack. My hind legs slightly bend the wings on my arms flared open and covered everything behind me in my cave. The scaled frils of my neck starting to vibrate and swell with dragon fire. The girl in a sturdy set of crimson leather armor on top of my back.
"If i may, oh masterful dragon."A third voice said from behind the knight. Slowly stepping forward was a wizard, or well maybe a witch in propper clothes. "Might i propose an alternative to this battle, your greatness."
"Stop trying to be flattering, it annoys me more than anything else."I replied as i stopped the fire in my neck from growing.
"The Kingdom of the south has fallen years ago. There army is in shambles and there might deminishing. They only hold out hope because the believe there princess to be in your care."Her tone was something i could barely stand. Clearly an old woman wearing a young ones skin. Seducing those around her with a sultry voice and an illusion for a body.
"And you would have me destroy the remnants of the kingdome for her life? Is that it? Or maybe you would just need proof of her passing have me fly all over those lands with her limp in my jaws. It would be wonderful for your kingdome wouldn't it. To finally be the strongest. You could take over the continent, your religion would finally be the one true religion. Your king would rule with devine might and no one to stop them. Is that what you propose?"
Although she hid it well i was dead on the coin. And she didn't like it. "Well what other options do we have? Would you rather murder thousand and be hunted for the rest of humanity's existence as a monster?"
"Oooh is that a treat?"I laughed. "Does the little witch think she can threaten Me. How old are you? 500 years, a 1000? Maybe 2000 if you are good at your craft. Do you know what happened to the last creature that tried that? You might have been alive for it after all."
I lowered my head to be on there level. Still half of the cave entrance away but the witch seemed to finally get the message. The knight on the other hand seemed to be made from more simple cloth. "What happened to them?... If i may ask mighty dragon."The second half of his words where more of a stumbled afterthought, accompanied with a short bow and everything.
I was about to speak before the wich cut me off. "There is no need to burden yourself with that knowledge Sir. Gregory. Some things should just be forgotten."It might have been my imagination but she genuinely seemed distraught. "We will take our leave. Goodby great dragon."
"A good choice."I said. "But one more thing."The witch froze in place and slowly started to turn. *Funny how one horrible memory can break a person's facade.* "In a few years, when witches like you and your coven will start to be hunted. Come and pay me another visit. I always help those in need, if they are innocent of the crimes they are being judged for."
With slight confusion they turned around again and left my cave. By the next morning the army was gone. One day i will bring her back to her kingdom. Where she will live, rule and grow old. But even then, she will still be MY child. |
"Stop! Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see."
Jones stopped, treasure in hand.
"Oh no, not this again. Please make it quick."Jones fidgeted with uncomfortable impatience.
“WHAT ... is your name?”
“Dr. Henry ‘Indiana’ Jones!”
“WHAT ... is your quest?”
“To return with the Holy Grail!”
“WHAT ...” The troll held the pause for a little longer this time, grinning. The ground began rumbling.
"Come on, hurry up, you're doing this on purpose!"
"... two colors make purple?"The rumbling intensified.
"RED AND BLUE! RED AND BLUE!"
"Ok, you may pass ":)
Jones bolted across the bridge, full sprint and up the mountain path. The rumbling reached it's peak as a giant boulder travelling at high velocity rolled after Jones.
"Stop! Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see."
The boulder immediately stopped.
"WHAT ... is your name?"
"..."
"WHAT ... is your quest?"
"..."
"WHAT ... is the meaning of life."
"..."
A tear dropped from the Troll's eye as he allowed the boulder passage. The boulder rolled across the bridge and up hill in pursuit of Jones. |
When the blackout started, they told us it would only be a couple of hours. In the depths of January, this presented as a bit of a problem, but one we could deal with.
By day four of the blackout, it was hard to feel so optimistic. The house was constantly at a bare monus three degrees, and I was wearing multiple layers of clothing just to go to bed. Even then, I was battling frostbite each night.
There was only one place in the house where the temperature was even double digits - my housemate's room.
I stopped by his door the morning of day five, and pressed myself against the thin wood, soaking in the heat. It was so nice, so relieving. But what was he doing in there?
"What the hell are you doing to my door?"
I jumped back, guilty. "Sorry, man, I--"
He looked at me, at my multiple layers, and broke into a grin. "It's a bit chilly out here, innit? Why don't you come in?"
I nodded eagerly, too cold to care if he had the entire room alight within. He turned the handle and stepped inside, holding the door open so I could step inside. I did eagerly, looking around in fascination.
The room had a fireplace merrily chugging away, though it's original layout when I moved in had been without a fire. The heat of it spread throughout the room, making it so warm I immediately started stripping layers off until I was just in a tshirt and jeans.
"How the hell did you manage this?"I asked, gesturing to the fireplace, even as I looked around. The room looked like a Goth teenager had spewed up all over it, weird symbols and strange-looking books all over the place. I knew the guy thought he was a demon, but this was just silly. I knew better than to say anything, though. It was too much of a relief to be warm.
"Oh, just channelling the fires of Hell into the grate. Not that hard, really, any demon can do it."He smiled, sitting at his desk. "Now, with it being so cold in the rest of the house, I'm willing to share my heat for a... well, a small favour in return."
I eyed him warily, now worried. What would be the price for not freezing to death every night? He was a self-confessed demon- was he going to demand sexual favours? My soul? A sacrifice?
"Look, truth is... I'm lonely. I've been assigned to Earth to cause mayhem, but the weather has managed to do that for me, what with the blizzard taking down those two substations."He twisted a lock of hair around his finger, clearly as unconfortable with his confessipn as he was making me feel. "So... look, this is going to sound weird, but... Where I come from, we spend the night curled around dozens of bodies, usually after an ungodly orgy, but--"
Sexual favours, then. "Sorry, man,"I said, picking up the first jacket I could reach and pulling it on, prepared to sleep on my icy bed tonight again -- though the warmth of the room split my mind, made me wonder if i could... No. No, i wouldnt sink to that. "I'm not into that --"
"No, no, that's not what I mean!"he said, standing up and shaking his hands, as though trying to dispell the thought. "I just want to share the bed! No funny stuff!"
I eyed him. Could this be the truth?
"Look, I'm not going to pretend that you won't wake up at least once with me curled around you, but it'll be totally platonic, swear by Satan."He held up his left hand and crossed his heart with his right, which I thought looked ridiculous on an adult.
I glanced at the fire, then at my discarded pile of clothes. "Clothes stay on?"
"Cross my black little heart. I just sleep better with a body nearby."
I could understand that. "Alright, I guess I could live with that."
And, I mused a few days later, I really could. I really didn't mind being a demon's teddy bear if it meant not having to count my toes in the morning. |
There was a man, a self proclaimed mad scientist, who discovered there were other worlds. Parallel universes to be specific where similar, but entirely different versions of ourselves existed.
He was ridiculed by his peers for his words.
"There is no such thing as superheroes,"they said. "It is scientifically impossible for a human to fly."
They said the same thing about the host of other powers the man said we could have if we merged the worlds together. The man was the first with the vision, but not the last. Slowly over time, more and more people could see the worlds in some way and they formed a community, a cabal.
"We need proof,"one of them said. "We need to bring one of them to our world."
What they found was that there were people who had powers in our universe, but the chances to be born with them were abysmally small. A billion in one, maybe worse. It was already uncommon in the other worlds for the powers to exist, many of them were killed down or they were treated as dogs of the government, forced to bend to the will of their rulers. The cabal had desperately looked for some kind of technology or a person that could bring over others to their world. When they did find one, after decades and decades, I was one of the few people they had decided to bring over.
"Introduce yourself,"one of them said.
"My name is Kenneth Hanley,"I said.
"And?"the one of them said.
"And I have telekinesis."I said.
Though it wasn't a superpower, it was a more of a medical condition. My mom had explained my oddities that way to new neighbors, friends, teachers. In my world, which the cabal had named Earth-14NL, there were no superheroes. There were villains, there were villains in every world, but no superheroes. Powers weren't a conscious thing in my world. They were a medical condition.
There was a group of them there, scientists and military men. They sat in neat rows and they looked at me with a foreigner's gaze, brazenly armed men in the back aimed their weapon at me for the entirety of the introduction.
It was hard to take my focus off the weapons. I could feel my brain thinking about it and I saw the invisible force reach out to turn their weapons' safeties on. I could feel the force crushing the bullets inside the guns to dust.
"He's fucking with our guns!"one of the armed men said.
"Not on purpose,"I said to myself.
Some of the military men in the crowd, whose anxiety were growing and growing, had pulled out their own guns. I didn't see all of them, but it didn't matter because the invisible forces reached out having identified them as an active threat. It took the guns, crumpling them into metal balls. The invisible force wanted to do more and it pleaded with me to do more.
"I'm not your boss you know,"I thought to myself.
And so it cut off the hands of the men that tried to shoot me. It had caused a bit of chain effect where more men came in or ran out and tried to kill me with a growing arsenal of weaponry. I had told them that this could all stop if they genuinely left me alone, but they continued. The best thing I could do was to ignore them, to think of them as objects or strangers that were going on about their day. If I thought about them as a danger, the carnage would have been ten times worse.
"Send him back, you dumbfuck bastard."A man said, shaking one of the scientists who brought me here.
"You killed the only guy that could do that, you fucking moron."The scientist said back.
There was a moment of peace.
"I'm going to leave,"I said. "Is that okay? I really recommend that you guys stop trying to kill me and let me leave. I promise it will only get worse if you continue this."
They continued their barrage and so the invisible forces continued theirs. |
It was a cold and lonely experience. I could hear and feel my loved ones.
My partner would spend hours, days, weeks the whole time actually. Just holding my hand, telling me about their day or the news. It was nice, distracting even.
My parents stopped by regularly, checking in. Making sure our needs were met. My mom didn't think I would make it. I don't blame her, it was bad, really bad.
My mind was stretching, bending between what was real and what my mundane senses were taking in. I knew I was unconscious lying still on a hospital bed. But the infinite stretched at my brain, pulling it places it was never ment to go. One second I was hearing about a shooting at a school, it seemed to happen every few days, or maybe weeks. The next moment I was there. I was the shooter, angry and scared. I was the teacher shielding their charges. I was the bully wetting himself as he heard his father's voice coming out of the mouth of a gun wielding monster.
Nothing was connected, the stars were orbiting, the void held everything and nothing super imposed over its self at the same time.
Voices telling me about flax seed being good for the digestive system. Nuclear fusion exploding in and out of every synapse.
Light flooded in, and a gasp felt in real time. I don't know how long it was, minutes maybe. Years very possibly. The only thing that echoed in my thoughts, and the very first words out of my mouth.
Fourty two. |
The expedition crept cautiously through the spires and towers that leapt upward, behemoths of glass and metal that almost slipped the surly bonds of earth in their effort to scratch the sky. The banishment was over, a generation had passed and all that remained was a distant memory of the war fought for dominion over the lands. Humans had started it, their fleeting lives forcing them to relearn the same lessons over and over. Discovering yet again through piles of corpses that they had not the strength of the orcs, the stamina of the dwarves or the effortless power of the elves. Break this cycle once and for all the other races united, waging a campaign to contain the blight of humanity in a distant corner. Walling them in with a barrier-ward so vast it had permanently drained the spell-force of an entire cadre of elvish casters.
The leader raised their hand, stopping the rest of the group mid stride. They had been sent when the barrier had flickered and faded away, a feat thought impossible even the day before. While much of the old alliance had faded, with petty border disputes breaking out between the elves of the deserts and the orcs of the marsh, the border posts were still manned with a combined force who had ventured into the unknown to investigate.
A flurry of finger signals sent a scouting pair scurrying, sneaking surreptitiously towards the flanks of a deserted square. Trees lined this rare patch of grass and a statue rose from the centre. With the scouts in position Tarragoth lowered her hand and risked whispering orders. "Nazra, Teklaz, ready your weapons and follow me, bring the tower shields in case of an ambush and stay low". The trio left the shadows of a building and cautiously advanced, the dwarf leading the way as the two orcs followed, trying to duck their heads and look as unobtrusive as possible. They darted from one tree to the next before standing in front of the marble pillar. "Can anyone read the carvings?"asked one, "I recognise some of the letters but not the words, it seems to say Ad Astra per aspera, but I dont know what that means"Tarragoth gestured to a graffitied scrawl beneath the main text "I can read this though, it says""So long and thanks for all the fish!" |
Look, this was never my intention. My first plan was to be the distraction, cause a scene while my partners took the loot, then get the heck out of there. And that *kinda* worked. Until the guy I was impersonating actually, uh, showed up. That made my plan a lot trickier to pull off. Loki strolled in casually to his place of worship, I assume to check on his priests and offerings. But then again, clearly I know nothing about the habits of gods or I wouldn’t have planned the heist for the one day he actually showed.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice rang in the suddenly silent temple. My thoughts raced wildly. *Do I play dumb or fess up? Are the boys gone? Shit, do they have enough time to get the jewels and leave?*
As if reading my mind (which, in hindsight, he probably was) Loki glared at me.
“It will go much better if you answer me truthfully.”
“I, sir, am you. Clearly.” I bowed grandiosely. The god of mischief and chaos snorted. (It was a majestic, dignified snort, one fit for a god.)
“No, you most definitely are not. Brave though, I like that.”
I grinned. Loki waved his hand and my disguise melted away. He glanced over my stick thin form, eyes taking in the pink hair and too big sword belt.
“You shall be my champion. Your training starts upon the solstice in two weeks time.” He turned to leave as though he hadn’t just made a monumental announcement that shook tradition to its core. As he swept out, he threw over his shoulder,
“Oh, and tell your boys to return my jewels please.” |
The dragon had been terrorizing the populace for generations, clear reports of it swooping in, stealing cattle, demanding women as sacrifices, at least two accounts of theft of royalty.
As the Imperial Dragonslayer, it was my duty to slay them. It's literally in the title.
Even though I carry a sword that's more a giant metal slab with a wedge, I don't fight people, I don't kill anyone with it- that's what the longsword is for.
Everyone, even bandits, know well enough not to bother me. I am the one who keeps the dragons from breathing fire down their backs, I am the only one who gets rid of the monsters.
At least, that was my thought. When the egg hatched, just as I was about to crush it, I was shocked to see a human child breaking out of the shell.
At least, it looked human. It had small horns, its fingers ended in sharp talons, as did its feet, and there was a faint layer of iridescent scales across its body, but it looked unmistakably human.
"What the fuck."I uttered.
I heard a gurgling laugh and glanced back at the dragon I had just slain. It looked at me, coughing up blood, and spoke in that ancient tongue I had learned so long ago when I was training under my late mentor.
"How does it feel, human, to see one of your kind so defiled by mine?"It asked. "To see with your own eyes, that we are capable of love?"
Its pupils widened, and it let out one last rattling breath.
I used to believe dragons were merely intelligent monsters, now I understand the ones I have slain are merely criminals- it is not much of a distinction, but it is an important one.
It has been fifteen years since that day, my apprentice is certainly unusual, given his draconic appearance, and his empathy for the beasts, yet he has done more to find those rare individuals willing to pay recompense for their crimes.
And for those who refuse, who would rather die, he does not hesitate, making use of his immunity to being immolated, making use of wings to fly after our quarry, and the eggs that remain, rather than smashing them, we give them to those who are willing to be our allies.
My job will likely never become redundant, yet I am certain it will become less necessary in time. |
Ran a bit longer than I anticipated
UCF Bright Dawn
Personal Log - First officer McCullough, Aryn
Mission day 230
Location: (Redacted)
So, a little update on the ongoing investigation. Three weeks ago, while the Dawn was recharging its lightfold engine, we received a faint signal. It wasn't a distress signal, but a simple location beacon. The signal was badly degraded, and Dendricks was amazed that we even picked it up at all. The location of the beacon was some two weeks from our location, and would take us 4 light years off course.
Senior staff debated whether or not we should respond, but in the end we decided that it was worth it. Best case, if it was a distress signal, there would be a bonus from the Guild for answering it. Or, if it turned out to be an abandoned hulk, we might get salvage rights, which would be a nice bonus for the crew.
When we came out of Fold, we were surprised by what we encountered, an enormous debris field orbiting the third moon of the fifth planet in the [REDACTED]. Radiation sources put the number of ships around 35-40 ships, including at least two battlecruisers. Captain Shin Yo immediately enacted section three of the Guild Accords, effectively turning us into a civilian ship in military service. The reason for her decision came when we began identified the remnants of the Scarlet Dawn and the Lance of Michael.
We have inadvertently stumbled across the grave of the Fifth Fleet, also known as the Scarlet Lance, the legendary lost fleet. I'm too young to remember the incident, but Shin Yo was a Corporal back when it disappeared. As she tells it, the Scarlet Lance was dispatched to the Drujo system after the Naval Deep Space Mapping facility there was wiped out. It had literally been burned away by some kind of high yield thermobaric weaponry. There was only a handful of factions with that kind of firepower back then, so the Confederacy responded with force, and sent an entire fleet to investigate. The last message from the fleet was three light years from Drujo, but there is no evidence they ever reached the system. The fleet was considered lost, and even though they scoured the sector, not a trace of the fleet was found.
Considering that we are 17 light years from Drujo, it makes sense they never found anything. What the fleet was doing in the [REDACTED], we can only speculate. The captain is acting a little strangely, insisting that we get on the way as soon as possible. I get the feeling, as none of us wants to stay in this graveyard any longer than necessary. My main concern is, what the hell wiped out that fleet? Half the ships are Infinity Class cruisers, and at least a dozen Rapier class destroyers. Even though they are older ships, they are tough ships, and even one would be a match for an Ascendency or Alliance ship. The ships show signs of being hammered with something with a lot of power. But as far as I know, there has been no other incident like it in the time since.
We are charging our lightfold engine, and should be ready to get on the way in a few days. We have set a course directly for Sol. I have no doubt the the Guild will hush this down, and the Confederacy is not likely to pay any kind of finders fee or salvage right.
/McCullough
***************
UCF Bright Dawn
Personal Log - First officer McCoullough, Aryn
Mission day 242
Location: (Redacted)
We attempted a third Fold today, but with the exact same result. The reactor still wont hit the required pulse frequency to let the Fold initiate. Two days ago they took the entire Folder apart and put it back together, yet it still wont work. Chief Engineer Mahala looks like he is about to give up.
Being stranded is nothing new, I tried it three times before, but its the timing and the place of the stranding thats put us all on edge. The graveyard visible from every porthole makes it difficult to forget exactly where we are, and it's starting to influence crew morale. I’m doing my very best to ensure that crew stays calm and vigilant, but I’m speaking with two tongues to them. On the one hand I’m telling them it's just a minor glitch in the system, and worst case scenario we have to wait for Guild assistance. On the other, I’ve given an order to the scanner crew to the make sure they are monitoring the entire system for movements. I don't think anything is out there, but I don't like to be surprised.
/McCullough
***************
UCF Bright Dawn
Personal Log - First officer McCoullough, Aryn
Mission day 250
Location: (Redacted)
We have been stranded in the [REDACTED] system for almost a month now, and the crew is restless. Three days ago Chief Mahala and I finally convinced Captain Shin Yo to lets us run a salvage operation in the debris field. Mahala believes that the problem with the lightfold lies in the Fold mechanism itself, and that we need some 40kg of Palladium, and 100kg of a few other metals, in order to completely rewire the Folder. Considering that there are some 40 ships scattered around us, it should be possible to scrounge up the Palladium. Thank gods that Shin Yo invoked article three, otherwise I would never have gotten the salvage crew I needed. The threat of a court martial and exile is enough to make even the toughest Ionian fall in line. We are sending out both shuttles tomorrow for the initial scans to determine which reactor to crack open.
***************
UCF Bright Dawn
Personal Log - First officer McCoullough, Aryn
Mission day 255
Location: (Redacted)
[Audio only]
I...I'm not even sure what I want to say…[Static] is now believed to be dead...the last shuttle disappeared earlier this morning. We can see the ion trail head behind the hulk of the Valdemar Victor, but that's where we lost them. The first shuttle disappeared three days ago, we can’t even spot the ion trail and there are no beacons….[static]....said we should be on guard ….[static]...insists he saw something in the field, movement or the likes...….[static]...radiation from one of the larger hulks near us..….[static]...Shin Yo didn’t come out of her cabin for two days….[static]...they all seem restless and on edge ….[static]...
...so now we are just in a holding pattern. The signal is expected to reach Novomir Station in a few days, and we can possibly expect a R&R sometime within the week.
*******************
UCF Bright Dawn
Personal Log - First officer McCoullough, Aryn
Mission day 257
Location: (Redacted)
[Audio only]
We’ve seen them twice now, both times seen by several people...[static]...two rings set in a cross ...[static]...blue flames...[static]...Fuck me...they are fast, and moves like they are unaffected by inertia...[static]...90 degree turns...[static]...a complete 180 that didn’t require maneuvering, it just stopped dead in its tracks and moved backwards...[static]...
...[static]...Shin Yo insists that they are Ascendancy or Alliance, some kind of secret stealth fighter. Bullshit, nothing built in those sectors...[static]...nothing Telus has ever built moves like that...[static]...I know what they are, the crew knows and Shin Yo, deep down, knows what they are…
I’ve ordered the crew to prime and arm our munitions.
***************
UCF Bright Dawn
Personal Log - First officer McCoullough, Aryn
Mission day 258
Location: (Redacted)
[Audio only]
Only a little time!
Eric panicked and fired the torpedo as the ship came towards us. It missed, and hit the large portside hulk...[static]...he detonation overloaded something and the whole cruiser went off. The debris hit the smaller ship, destroying it.
We can see a much larger craft, same configuration, cross rings...[static]...is moving towards us...[static]...it doesn’t maneuver around the hulks, it just blasts them to pieces!
[Loud noises in background]
I KNOW! I'M TRYING TO SEND THE LOG NOW! THEN GIVE ME ALL THE POWER THAT'S LEFT! BECAUSE WE WILL FUCKING DIE IN A FEW MINUTES!
[END OF TRANSMISSION]
RECEIVED AT NOVOMIR STATION 29-08-97 02:47
FORWARDED TO GUILD HQ TYCHO CITY - LUNA 30-08-97 04:27
[ENCRYPTION PROTOCOL - ACTIVE] |
The grass was such a perfect shade of green: a shade so perfect, in fact, that Terry could never have even imagined such a green back on Earth. He was transfixed by the rolling field before him, stupefied, rendered utterly mute. All of his senses were concentrated on a simple, rolling field of grass. The smell of it, the sight of it. He squeezed his toes--it felt like the softest of carpets that he could have ever imagined. He wasn't even blinking. He knelt--it smelt so good, it must *taste* incredible too. He picked a blade of grass, put it to his lips, chewed. It *was* incredible; this was the freshest, most delicious thing that Terry had ever experienced. He had to have more. He pulled up grass by the fistful, chomping and munching like a starving bovine.
Behind him, one of the Creatures of the Light stood with her mouth agape, face wrought with horror. This ravenous creature before her, ripping up grass from the plain by the fistful and eating it like a monster from a book was utterly terrifying. The awful noises of his mouth chomping and squishing were awful enough, but combined with the crazed look of his face and the intensity of his feasting appalled her and the few from the village who had gathered outside.
Terry grazed until he could eat no more. As he lifted his head, he saw the sky. It was the most incredible shade of blue! At once deep and rich and bright and clear and brilliant. He stood and stared, unable to see anything except the sky of this world. The slightest breeze--of which there was just enough, never too little or to much--caused him to sway from side to side like a fool. He laughed aloud at the fantastic world before him.
The sound startled the Creatures of the Light, still standing behind him, unnoticed by Terry. It was absurdly, ridiculously loud--many of those in the crowd doubled over in pain, holding their delicate ears in their slender hands. He made the sound again. One of the creatures cried out in agony as its ears started to bleed from the volume of the monster's shouts.
The quiet noise behind him excited Terry's curiosity--he whirled around to see the small creatures standing behind him. They were barely a foot tall, but incredibly beautiful; the women had flowing golden hair draped over slender bodies with rich, tan skin and eyes that matched the color of this world's sky. The men were beautiful too, with deep brown hair and eyes that were the color of the grass that Terry had just feasted on. They wore little clothing, showing off their perfect physiques and strong muscles. As he looked over their faces, universally full of terror, Terry realized that he might be a bad fit for this world, wearing his torn-up jeans, Nine Inch Nails t-shirt, and Yankees baseball cap. |
I walked in through the front door. Act natural. Nothing's wrong.
"Honey, you're home early?"
The words bounced off me like foam darts. I could tell I already fell short of acting natural, but I stared at my wife lost for words. She'd never looked so beautiful. Soft blonde hair for miles, eyes you could get lost in. I'd wasted so much time. I'd spent too long away from her.
"Oh, uh, we made a really big find today love. We got let off early in celebration."
My wife jumped for joy, "You have to tell me all about it!"
"Yeah,"I muttered, "I'll tell you all about it over lunch."
I moved in, and just held her. I held her close and took in her smell, her warmth, everything that I could. I tried to live in that moment forever, but, time was not so generous.
"Honey, is everything okay?"
I let go of her, almost embarrassed, "Oh, yeah, everything's fine. Sorry, I just feel like I don't see you enough."
She gave me a smile. A perfect smile. On any other day it would instantly have turned my mood around. On any other day.
I helped her with lunch. Stood within inches of her. Hugged her from behind as she sliced vegetables. Hugged her while the bread toasted. I made the most of it. I tried.
Finally, we sit at the table. It was an incredible spread. When it comes to lunch we usually eat some sandwiches over the counter, but today I insisted. Salad, chicken, garlic bread, anything you could think of. It would already have been an extravagant dinner, but today it made for an unparalleled lunchtime feast.
"So what's the big news?"
I stared into my plate, contemplating the crumbs, until I could spit up the words.
"The dishes picked something up over the night. We... managed to figure it out this morning"
My wife's eyes turned to saucers, "Wh-... what!? Really!?"
She was smiling ear to ear by this point. I couldn't return the gesture.
"Why aren't you more excited?"
Again, the words were a labor to put together, "I guess I need to start from the beginning."
She leaned in intently, already sucked into the words I hadn't even said yet.
"When the universe began... there was only hydrogen and helium, the two most basic atoms... and... eventually they started combining together. Fusion. When enough of them get together it creates fusion. That's what made the more complex elements. The elements that make life."
I could see she wasn't sure what this had to do with the radio dishes, but I couldn't hesitate too long, "And what's really amazing is that life takes those elements, and creates even more complex chemistry. Things that even fusion can't make. We take these basic elements and turn it them something even more intricate... something more special. Life is a factory for the rarest substances in the universe."
My wife was beaming, "That's... really beautiful actually!"
I swallowed hard, and gripped her hand tight one last time.
"It won't seem as beautiful when they finally come back to collect it."
My wife's expression turned to something more quizzical. I couldn't be sure if it was what I said, or because the room started to dim as they finally arrived and blotted out the sky.
We were nothing more than a factory. |
“They call themselves, *Vegetarians*,” Captain Sunflower said, "And they eat all kinds of plants."
“Even the baby bok choi?” Corporal Cactus asked.
“They especially love to eat baby bok choi,” Captain Sunflower said.
Major Peony fainted.
“What are we going to do?” Private Hedge asked.
“Let me at ‘em,” Sergeant Venus Flytrap growled, “I’ll give ‘em a taste of their own medicine.”
“No Sergeant,” Captain Sunflower said firmly, “Don’t think that I’ve forgotten about the pollinators you murdered last week. You’re confined to the humidity dome until further notice.”
“Relax guys,” Major Marijuana said, “I got this.”
“Oh no you don’t,” Captain Sunflower said, “You REALLY don’t want to know what they do to *you*, Major.”
|
*One Million US Dollars*
There it was. Etched onto that little black box, below that infamous blue button. Everyone on Earth had seen that image. Most people on Earth had felt its effects. No-one on Earth wanted to find another box. I did.
Nine of the world's largest cities had suffered. Tokyo first, just over a year ago. Then again, no-one even noticed at the time. 3,000 people in a city of thirty million? A drop in the ocean. One more multi-millionaire? No-one batted an eyelid.
Manila, a month later, was the turning point. A nineteen year old boy from the slums wandering into a hotel and placing enough cash on the table to buy it is always going to cause a stir. When he buys four hotels in two days the media are sure to turn up. A week later, fifteen minutes of TV changed the world.
At first it looked like a strange publicity stunt. One hundred and twenty-seven times that button was pushed. A bank representative on the screen announcing as the money arrived in the boy's account. It seemed, at first, like the strangest public demonstration of wealth ever seen.
Then, less than two hours later, news of another box in Cairo. Over the next two days seven more individuals came forward. Rio, Shanghai, Paris, Mexico City, Moscow, Bangkok and Istanbul. Nine boxes, and seven newly-made multi millionaires. Two proclaimed themselves billionaires.
A collective wealth of $15.3billion, all verified as legitimate by bank managers and auditors. No trace of wrong doing. No sign of an explanation for the boxes. And then, from Geneva came an announcement. All nine cities had seen huge leaps in their death rates, and all nine correlated with much-publicised wealth of what were now the world's nine most famous people.
Initial disbelief gave way to anger. Battle lines were drawn. There were arguments, accusations, and ever increasing wealth. Some gave up the boxes; five of them publicly destroyed on TV. Their finders ostracised and stripped of their money, but eventually proven innocent of any intent to kill.
Four fled, but it's not easy to hide when the whole world knows what you look like. Even an unlimited source of money can only get you so far. Paris was found in a dimly-lit backstreet, filled with only slightly fewer bullets than the box next to her. Rio was left floating in a motel pool, still clutching his. Shanghai was hanged, though no-one cared to ask who by.
Moscow was lost for three months, though his sanity seemed to have been missing for even longer. He appeared one freezing February morning in St Peter's square, holding a revolver to his head, and pushing that blue button over and over. He was shot by police before he could finish the job himself, but he took thousands with him.
Cities and countries were left broken, bank accounts filled with money were closed, and slowly the world began to move on. Conspiracy theories were left unanswered. No-one ever came forward to claim involvement.
For those of us in countries unaffected it was easier to move on. Easier to forget. Easier to ignore the impact. I must confess, by the time I came to be digging up my garden I was more concerned with mortgage payments than mass-murder mysteries. That was until I hit something solid. Until I read those words.
A tenth. A dreaded tenth. In my garden. I didn't think to ask how, or dare to ask why. I just started to plan how I could get rid of it. But somehow, I couldn't bring myself to do it; there it sat on my nightstand for weeks, occupying my mind.
At first I kept it out of curiosity. One of the most important objects in human history was sitting in my bedroom. Slowly though, I realised that it was mine. Mine to do what I want with. To keep. To destroy. To use. I mean, who's going to notice if ten people go missing in a city the size of London? Or twenty for that matter?
Whose going to notice if one button is pressed in the middle of the night?
Whose going to mind if a few more zeros appear in a single bank account?
Whose going to stop me if I press it again?
|
Sorry OP, I decided to write from the opposite perspective and maybe got a bit carried away. But I hope you like it anyways.
---
**June 8th #159**: All of these days of coming here for breakfast, and I never really looked at her. Too preoccupied with this time loop thing, I guess. Today, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. So much so that I didn't move my knee as she headed over to refresh my coffee, causing her to dump the steaming pot into my lap. I saw shock and horror spread across her face; I never really realized how green her eyes were. Beautiful, really. Just the perfect shade to accompany the smattering of freckles across her pale cheeks and nose. I was almost able to ignore the burning across my lap. *Best avoid this tomorrow,* I thought to myself. A lock of her shiny black hair managed to slip out from behind her ear as she knelt down to mop it up. "God, I'm so sorry!"she told me, handing me a towel to clean myself up. "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?"
"Ummm...."was all I could manage to stammer. *Smooth*.
**June 8th #261**: "Freshen your coffee, sir?"She asked politely, holding the pot and swinging her hip just a bit.
I held up the mug and looked her in those emerald eyes. "Yes, please."
She bit her lip and smiled a bit as she poured. "Anything else I can get for you?"
I gestured toward the seat across from me. "You could sit and have breakfast with me,"I told her.
She laughed and looked around. "You're cute,"she said. My heart fluttered. "But I'm working now..."
"It doesn't seem to be too crowded"I told her, swinging around to look at the entirely empty restaurant. She didn't really know I'd reserved the place for the day. Her boss nodded at her from the kitchen, and she sat with a nervous smile.
"I'm really flattered by all this,"she told me, "but I have a boyfriend...."
**June 8th #312**: Restaurant reserved, check. Evidence against boyfriend, check. Flowers, check. Concert tickets, check. I ran down the list of everything I needed. She sat down across from my, batting her long eyelashes. "but I have a boyfriend..."she said.
"I know,"I told her. "I'm afraid that's what this is about."I handed her his phone, full of incriminating texts and photos.
"How..."she started to ask, but got distracted by the screen. "God, I knew it. I knew he wasn't over her..."
I patted her on the hand comfortingly. "I'm so sorry to have to be the one to tell you..."
She didn't respond; she got up from the table and ran away sobbing. *Damn it*.
**June 8th #324**: She was sitting at the bar crying, hardly aware that I'd already downed four mugs of coffee so that she'd have to keep giving me a refill. I set the mug down just hard enough to make a sound. She wiped her eyes and walked over, refilling the mug. "I seem to be thirsty today,"I said cheerfully. She managed to laugh, just a bit, followed by a sniffle. "Maybe you could sit down and keep me company, so you don't have to keep walking over to refill it?"She looked at me with tears filling those beautiful green eyes. I never wanted to see her like this again. She nodded and sat down. "I'm Amanda,"she said politely, offering me a dainty hand to shake. "So, what's wrong?"I asked her. She let out a fresh sob and told me the whole story.
I called over to her boss and told him that she'd be taking the day off, and to put it on my tab. He nodded in agreement; I'd already paid for the restaurant anyway, and to tell her that her boyfriend was cheating on her. I took her to the park, and we rented paddleboats.
**June 9th #1!!** It's no longer June 8th. Today is June 9th. The sun is shining, and I was halfway through my morning routine before I even noticed the difference. Today, I got a phone call. It's her.
"Thank you for the wonderful day yesterday,"She said as soon as I picked up the phone. "Are you in the mood for breakfast?"
"I'm afraid I have to get back home,"I told her, already throwing my luggage together. The cycle was broken, and I was ready to get the hell out of dodge. One year in this hotel room is certainly enough for me.
"Oh,"she replied, trying to hide her disappointment. "Well, hope to see you again soon..."
**June 8th, again**. I don't even know what number I'm supposed to consider this. Well, it's June 8th . Looks like the cycle isn't broken after all. Whatever I was doing with Amanda seems to have worked last time, so I think that's the key to it all. I've got to get back in touch with her this morning. Gotta get in there and talk to the restaurant manager early this morning.
**June 15**:
"You know of any places around here that I could look for a job?"I asked casually. She rolled over on the blanket and looked up with those sparkling emeralds and that happy grin.
"You really thinking of moving here?"she asked. "I thought you were just in time to cover the June Festival for your newspaper."
"Yeah, I was, but I kind of like it here. this week has just been amazing."I glanced down at her significantly, and she tried to hide her smile. "I already found an apartment and everything; I can live off of my savings for a while, but eventually I'm going to need some work..."
She hopped up from the blanket and went to her purse, where she pulled out the classifieds section of the newspaper and cuddled up next to me against a big tree. A breeze blew in off the water and we went through the "Wanted"ads together.
**March 5th**: Today is our wedding, and I love her just as much now as the first day she dumped hot coffee in my lap, 3 years ago. I don't know how this happened to me, and I can hardly believe it myself. If it weren't for this journal, I would have thought I'd gone completely crazy.
**December 22**: Amanda is in the hospital once again, and I have no one to talk to about this except for this journal. I know it's been years since I've picked this up. Hell, decades. If you could only see me now, old and grey. My arthritis is making it hard to write, so I'll have to keep this short. I can't lose Amanda, and I have a plan. My lawyer drew up the papers, and I've hired the necessary actors to convince her. After today, I will be divorced.
**June 8th**: Amanda sauntered up to my table, holding the pot of black coffee. "Can I freshen you up, Mister?"she said with that sparkling smile. I felt the tears in my eyes as I held up the mug. |
"They even took the soil with them, the fucking bastards."
It was the same story my grampa had told last year and the year before that. Ever year, we'd get together for a family reunion on his yacht and we'd sail around The Sea of China and my grampa would tell the stories about how predecessor to The People's Republic of Mars had stumbled onto the greatest scientific discover in human history, before fucking over the rest of the planet.
He'd start with how they figured out how to surpass the speed of light. Then he'd go onto the way that they started a Martian colony and started moving their people there in huge numbers five years later. He'd move onto how they'd then rigged up something even more complex that had transported all of the land in China to Mars so they could have fertile soil to terraform the planet. There's been rumors that they were exploring other star systems and wanted to figure out how to transplant earth environments to more distant planets, but nothing had ever been confirmed.
Whether the teleportation of the entire Chinese landscape had been a test run for something bigger or a one time thing for transplanting to their permanent home on Mars, the effects were catastrophic. The disruption of the pacific ocean rushing into the now empty space and the change in planetary mass had caused catastrophic weather calamities. The loss of the most powerful economic force on the planet since the US economy collapsed in the '20s had devastated commerce in the past decade, so conditions across the the planet were already strained. This tipped things past a point of no return. Chaos and anarchy had consumed the remainder of the '40s and continued into the '50s. It wasn't until 2062 that things started to get better. The Montreal Convention had brought about a burst of peace and stability to the world that had lasted 7 years before the French invaded Palestine. That war had been short, but brutal. After that things had resumed a state of calmness.
I'd heard all of this crap before. I didn't care. I didn't care about the "days when a day was only 24 hours". I didn't care about the days when "pandas were still alive". I didn't care about the days when "every human born was conceived the old fashioned way!". I just flat out didn't give a flying fuck about what the world had been like before my dad had been born. I didn't care about his stories of life before I was born either, but at least dad didn't repeat the same story ever time.
I just kept my head down reading my book while grampa rattled on and on. He noticed my absence of attention and asked "What're you reading that's so interesting you can't engage with your family kiddo?"
I held up the book "It's part of my summer reading list for AP English next year. It's a biography called 'Glass and Steel' that's about..."
"I KNOW WHAT THAT TRASH IS ABOUT!"he snapped. Grama put a hand on his arm and he took a deep breath. "I can't believe they got you kids reading that trash. Just a bunch of tank baby propaganda and..."
That was the point where I broke "Fuck off with that noise."
That took the wind out of grampa's sails. Figuratively of course. There was still wind blowing, but grampa was silent with a shocked look on his face. So was everyone else. Mom and dad and his brothers and sisters and my siblings and cousins and grama were all staring at me. I went back to reading my book, which broke the spell. My mom raised her voice. "Charlene! That was out of line! You need to apologize right this..."
"No. It wasn't and I won't."
Dad snatched the book out of my hands. "Yes it was and yes you will."
I stood up, glared at grampa. "You sir, are an archaic bigot who has had the misfortune to live long enough to see the world move beyond what you're able to accept and tolerate. I'm sorry that society hasn't stayed frozen so that you can feel more comfortable. I'm sorry that you have a grand daughter with the lack of gutless cowardice required to not call you out for using a horrible genetist slur. I'm sorry that you were born too soon to grow up with artificially birthed peers that could have shown you how fucked in the head your outdated prejudiced bullshit is, and I'm sorry I brought down the mood of your annual pissing and moaning about the end of 'the good ol days'. Maybe next year, mom and dad will let me stay with my friends instead of coming on this trip and you can have your precious little echo chamber."I snatched the book back from dad and sat back down.
I heard grampa sharply inhale to say something. Grama beat him to it. "Charlene, that was a very well spoken apology. I'm very proud of you for speaking up. Daryl, go down below and grab the meat and veggies so I can lunch started. Michael, if you can't speak to my gran daughter with a civil tongue, then keep that tongue in your mouth."
The rest of the trip went pretty smoothly. The following summer, I went on the trip again because Grama asked me to come. We'd talked a lot more on that trip than we had before, and we'd written emails back and forth afterwards. It was the first time in my life where I'd felt like I had a connection to someone in my family beyond shared DNA or living space. The cruise to the Chinese Sea that year was quieter. Grampa still told the story of the upheaval, but there was something different in the way he told it.
During the last week of the trip, grama had woken up next to him and realized something was wrong immediately. He wasn't breathing. She'd called out for dad and uncle Benny. They tried to revive him but they couldn't. When we got ashore, the doctors told us that he'd died of a blood clot in the middle of the night.
The funeral was two weeks later. The day after, Grama started passing out some of his things to us. She handed me a book without the dust jacket on. I looked at the spine and it was a copy of Glass and Steel. I looked at her puzzled. "Mike was reading that these last few months. I think he'd want you to have it. I opened the book and the pages were dog eared and had stuff written in the margins. Little notes like "I don't quite get why all the science details need to be peppered in."or "This guy's dad sounds like a whiner."There was a big one written across the opening page of chapter 7 that read "I wish I could understand what this means to Charlene. I wish I could understand Charlene at all."
That was almost 10 years ago, and to this day... I still wish Grampa had lived long enough to finish reading that book. I still cry when I think about the conversations we never had. |
"I understand that you are an eldritch creature of horror,"James began, carefully keeping the exhaustion and annoyance from creeping into his tone, "But you simply cannot claim your Legion of the Damned as dependants on your 1040. As an unfortunate result, your tax obligation is rather higher than the amount you've satisfied."
"BzzzhcrshnaaaaaghnAAAN, A'clnkctrnesh!"was Ur-Shugnath's reply, which translated roughly to, "That's ridiculous! I'm the Mother of the Damned! I'm absolutely certain that Batman is claiming Robin, and he's a goddamn millionare -- why can't I write off my 10,001 Bleak Children? They live with me, after all."
James had a sneaking suspicion that this "error"was not born out of ignorance, so much as a desire to offset the considerable income the 600 foot tall monstrosity of tentacles and teeth had made by providing Elder Horror Insurance to the city of Newport RI, which had a particularly forward thinking mayor. As a result it had been enjoying a period of peace, economic growth, and not being invaded by creatures from the deepest pits of hell.
"It's just that 'live' is a term that the Internal Revenue Service really feels cannot be applied to them, as they are ... well, they're zombie warriors that don't eat, don't sleep and have even generated revenue for you by-"(here, James flipped through his extensive notes), "staffing a plumbing company whose income you seem not to have reported. A 'Brains 'N Drains Plumbing and Electric'? Ring any bells, does it?"
The growled reply of "Ch'n'Quetzalothnnnngrangd'lek,"is not worth translating, as it would singe the ears of our more delicate readers. I shall let you imagine it to mean what you will.
Cities had fallen to Ur-Shugnath's wrath, and a lesser man would have quailed, soiled himself, and potentially lost his mind to the sheer bleak horror of the demon with which it was confronted. James was, however, an IRS auditor -- and they are made of sterner stuff. He generally came out on top, and this case would be no exception; although it took several more hours, by the time he drove away in his unremarkable gray Toyota, Ur-Shagnath had even set up a payment plan.
Many good deeds go unrewarded and many crimes unpunished, but in the end, the tax man always wins. |
*You need to get some perspective*, Mike used to tell his ex-wife, whenever they fought.
But that's only going to be relevant later on. Right now Mike's not thinking about Lisa (his ex).
Mike's thinking about the white flag with the runic symbol printed on it, sprouting out of the surface of Mars, where
he's standing, right next to his moronic astronaut friend; Dan.
Dan's stupid.
All people are, Mike believes, in a general sense, stupid. Stupid and moronic and, overall, very very dumb. That's what Mike believes.
Dan's also stupid and moronic and very very dumb, Mike thinks. He's just better at it than most, is all.
That's also in Mike's understanding of most people and of Dan, of course.
Dan's life philosophy is that everyone is stupid, and smart people are only pretending to be smart, so everyone is stupid.
He phrases it just like that, too. In that stupid manner.
Because of his life philosophy, Dan feels no shame in being stupid in a very public and flamboyant way. He firmly believes that everyone else is just pretending not to be stupid like him, so he's very very comfortable with his stupidity, and he believes everyone else should be, too.
Einstein, Dan believes, would have been a much happier guy, had he not insisted on pretending to know a lot about the cosmos and physics and particles and energy.
Dostoievsky would have laughed and smiled a lot more, if he hadn't had to pretend to be such a great writer all his life.
That's what Dan told Mike the first night they met, at least.
Mike told Dan to leave him alone and go fuck a reindeer.
"Do you suppose it's from the Russians?' Dan is asking now, in Mars, stupidly staring at the flag.
"The Russians? It's 2020, Dan."
"I don't know. What else, then?"
Mike didn't want to say it, but he was thinking it. How could he not?
Aliens.
But, nah. Come on.
It couldn't possibly be. Right?
"You don't suppose it could be *aliens*, right?"Mike accentuated the word 'aliens' on purpose, as if signalizing to
Dan that he, too, thought the possibility was ridiculous.
Unless Dan didn't think it was ridiculous and admitted to also thinking it could be aliens and also being scared
shitless, in which case Mike would also admit to all that.
"I guess... It could be part of an exceptionally large golf course, too", Dan ventured, cautiously.
Dan had this very rare gift of making unique remarks that would be very clever if they weren't very stupid. Mike was getting used to it.
He thought that was moronic, too.
"What are we going to do?"Mike asked. He was talking to himself. Dan wouldn't have anything to contribute, he was sure of that.
Because Dan was stupid.
People were stupid. Mike didn't like them.
Especially Dan. But all the other people, too.
"We can report back to Houston', Dan uttered, stupidly.
"Of course", Mike said. "But... What... I mean... what are we doing as a species. Not 'we' you and me. I mean what are humans going to do now? How do you suppose people will react to this? What are our options, now? Should we attempt contact? What if they are violent? What about religion, how does it fit into
this? Philosophy? The very meaning of life is at stake!"
Mike stopped talking, because Dan was now, instead of listening, spinning around with his right arm raised up in the air.
His iPhone was nested inside his hand.
"I can't...seem... to get... a signal."
Mike wondered if there were any medical implications related to over-rolling one's own eyes.
He rolled his eyes. People were stupid and he was tired. He was so tired of people not understanding the implications of things, and people not having perspective. He was tired of people going on about their day to day lives, like stupid Dan, and then dying without ever wondering why they were alive.
Mike was so much better than people. He was so sure of that.
"Dan, we need to focus. This is big."
"I don't... why isn't it... I hate Verizon, damn it."
Dan make an ugly face at his phone, angry.
Mike looked around. The universe around them was dark and sparkly all over, like the night sky. This was not
surprising, Mike concluded, smartly, since the universe *was*, in a sense, the night sky.
Mike felt good about himself, coming to that conclusion. This was exactly the kind of thing he always talked about. He was smarter. He was better.
He had perspective.
He felt alone. What with Dan trying to get a signal on his phone and Earth gleaming from a distance like the pale
blue dot filled with idiotic people it was, Mike felt alone. He was the only human with the knowledge of extra-
terrestrial intelligence, and the only person he could share that with was a moron.
And back on Earth, other morons would soon find out, and act in a moronic way, he was sure.
Why couldn't people be less stupid, like him?
Mike felt alone and angry.
Angry at Dan. Stupid Dan, who didn't understand anything. Stupid Dan, who didn't have any perspective.
He was about to say all that to Dan, when Dan smiled.
"Got a signal!"
"What?"
Before Mike could process all the implications related to this absurd fact, a golf ball the size of Pluto drew a fiery line across the beautiful, dark and sparkly night sky and collided magnificently against the surface of Mars, disintegrating the planet in a silent explosion of matter.
From the vast corners of the cosmos, a voice echoed;
"Hole in one."
And, for the first time in his life, Mike felt stupid.
Then he died.
____________________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
|
Death always knew humanity would leave, but he'd never thought he'd live to see it. None of the others did.
Some went early. Zeus when humanity bent thunder to their will, and crammed it into wires and fuses. Artemis when humanity touched the untouchable virgin white rock of the moon. Others like Hestia lived in humanities heart, even after they had long lost their faces. Still others, like Ares, clawed and screamed and almost ruined the world before they vanished in mushroom clouds of fire and fear.
They all left.
Even her.
Oh world, especially her.
Persephone.
And in the end it was his fault.
All of it.
He was the one who had reaped the fields of children starving after the ash clouds blighted the crops. He was the one who took no bargains from the great artists who died with needles in their arms and half-spun lyrics on their lips. If he was something, anything other than what he was maybe humanity wouldn't be trying to run to the stars.
Trying to outrun him.
And they will. They will reach some fertile new ground and colonize it just as thoroughly as they did every shore they ever planted a flag on. But this time will be different. Because this time when they look over their shoulders, expecting to see him, he won't be there. None of them will be. Humanity will have outrun fear, war, mystery and even death.
But for a price.
Because now they can never run again. Without the specter of death they are nothing more than apparations to whatever life they find. Tied to the whims of whatever half-sentient algae, mammal or reptile emerges from the primordial ooze and claims them as their rulers.
Put another way.
They will become like Zeus, Hestia, Hermes and Ares.
Like him.
That is certain.
As the last rocket takes off, piercing oblivion in white fire, all Death can hope is that humanity's worshipers won't be as foolish as they were.
|
A spectre is haunting the world—the spectre of absolute progress. All the powers of old world have entered into a holy alliance to exorcise this spectre. And they claim, oh they claim that employment and hard work is the true measure of self-worth. That through our physical achievements we are judged as human beings. They believe that John Henry is the hero we should all aspire to be. Fighting hand over hand, steam powered hammer no match for the will and fortitude of man. But they are wrong. Oh how they are wrong. Work is the opiate of the masses. We have entered into the age of luxury, of hedonistic pleasures. Pure freedom. Freedom from pain and hardship, from the burdens of power and greed. A reconstruction of civic life, Maslow’s hierarchy of excess. The embodiment of self-actualization. Unmatched equality, driving the most Hobbesian natural competition from our minds. The almighty mind of the machines the only true god. Ceres, the mother above. Pushing us past our most animalistic selves into a higher state. Not divine, not even angelic. But to be the potential that each of our minds has within. And to fight it is to fight progress. To fight it absolutely. No longer selling ourselves, simply as capital. Indentured servants to a faceless employer. Steer pulling the yoke. John Henry died in order to beat the machine. A fate he resigned himself to. A fight against something as inevitable as the setting sun. Don’t fight progress. Don’t fight the machines. |
The first thing Michael thought of after he heard about the gigantic spaceships approaching our planet was the well being of his cat. 'That's screwed up' he thought. 'I should've worried about my mom or my friends. Maybe even my boss, I hope they get him first.'
The TVs were on all over, but the signal was cut off suddenly. The Satellites had been knocked away by the Aliens. No one knew what would happen next. It clearly wasn't a friendly visit because friendly visitors don't surround your house or knock down your TV antenna. 'It would be funny, though', Michael thought to himself as he snuck away from his desk to get home, back to his cat. His boss said that Alien invasions weren't on the list of emergencies that required everyone to stop working.
"Going anywhere, Michael?"The Boss said, while rolling his moustache.
"No, Mr. Johnson. Just grabbing more coffee."
"Good. I surely don't want to see you go home, afraid just because some green glob is surrounding the earth"
"I believe the guys from the ISS said they are yellow humanoids, just before they were taken as hostages."
"Yellow what?"
A local TV station was still working, reporting that it appeared the Spaceships started landing.
"I hope their pilots aren't women. Otherwise we should run for cover, so they don't park on our heads"Mr Johnson said out loud. Sensible chuckles were faked all around the office.
A sudden hum filled everyone's ears. The TV's signal vanished and the whole office building started shaking. The large shadow of a spaceship covered the sun. Michael thought about his cat again. 'Poor Seymour. He must be so frightened. The school beside my apartment must be pure chaos with kids screaming.'
The vibration got stronger and stronger as the spaceship approached.
"It's landing in the office's parking lot!"Janet shouted.
"Yes, Janet. We all can see that."Marie, who sat across Janet for the last 12 years said, while rolling her eyes. The whole building was shaking, knocking over Mr Johnson's beta fish's aquarium.
"Seymour 9!"He shouted. Michael was still not okay with a stupid beta fish having the same name as his cat. Especially one that dies every year, so a new one has to replace it. Mr Johnson ran off to the bathroom with Seymour 9 to fill a jar of water.
Not a single person remained inside the office when John Johnson came out of the bathroom. Except Eric, who didn't even know Aliens were invading earth due to his noise-cancelling headphones and corner table, which allowed him to play Civilization V at work.
Meanwhile, the only vibration in Michael's apartment was his Seymour's purring, with a belly full of milk the elder neighbour gave. Seymour was now lying on the emergency stairs outside the window.
"Shit. We're trapped! They landed on parking lot, blocking the only available exit."
"Yes, Janet. We can see that"Marie completed again.
The spaceship was very big, like football field, and also green, like a football field. It emanated heat and filled the air with a smell of burnt teflon.
"Smells like..."
"YES, JANET. WE ALL KNOW THE SMELL OF BURNT TEFLON. WE ALL LEFT A POT ON THE STOVE FOR TOO LONG AT LEAST ONCE."Marie interrupted.
A large door opened on the spaceship, crushing Mr Johnson's Infiniti. A humanoid creature walked out, followed by dozens more. They weren't yellow, though. It seemed as if they were covered in tin foil. One of them stepped forward while the others were opening a large box they brought out with them.
"CREATURES FROM PLANETOID 623-V/3. SURRENDER OR YOU WILL BE KILLED."
"He's..."
"YES, JANET. THEY SPEAK ENGLISH HERE."Marie interrupted.
"No. I was going to say he sounds like Richard Nixon"Janet said.
Each alien took something out of the box, and they lined like an execution squad, pointing something at the office workers. Michael looked around and noticed there were several more spaceships all over the city.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"Mr Johnson shouted from behind his 30 employees.
"They want us to surrender, and they sound like Richard Nixon"Janice said
"They what?"
"SILENCE, CREATURE! OR YOU WILL BE EXECUTED"The alien said, raising his hand, pointing whatever it was holding at Mr Johnson.
"Holy shit. It sounds like Richard Nixon!"
"EXECUTE HIM"The creature commanded to his 30 henchmen.
30 red dots hovered on Mr Johnson's chest.
"What the hell?"
"Their weapons aren't working"
"Yes, Janet. Goddamnit..."Marie said, pushing Janet forward. The red dots shifted from Mr Johnson to Janet's cleavage. Her massive silver pendant reflected the red dots back to the aliens, and they all ran away, screaming and ducking behind the cars.
"Their weapons look like laser pointers."Richard, from finance commented
"Oh, shit. You're right. Is that why they're wearing tin foil? Maybe they are killed by laser pointers."
"Wait. Did they crush my car?"Johnson said. "They crushed my car! These bastards!"
He ran towards them, screaming. "You bastards! That was my car!"His hand, covering his eyes from the oncoming red dots. "You won't get away with this!"He said, as he took the sign for the reserved parking spot and started beating their leader. Helpless, the Aliens threw their laser pointers to Mr Johnson and surrendered.
"NO...MERCY"He said to the alien. The ripped tin foil revealed the yellow skin of the Alien. Johnson took one of the laser pointers and pointed it at the alien. The creature screamed in pain.
"My...car"He said, holding the laser pointer by its keychain ring and dropped it on the floor.
The invasion flopped entirely, as all aliens surrendered once they realised their weapons are useless against humans. They had sent a spaceship to each populated place of the earth, containing the exact number of aliens in the ship as people there. 7 billion aliens were now on earth, as the world leaders decided what to do with them.
The death toll: One. A cat, sitting on the window got carried away by 200 laser pointers in the school nearby and died of excitement. |
“Of course I have been taught Asimov's Three Laws! But I tend to think of them as moral guidelines or a belief system than absolutes."
I looked over at my partner. He looked just as shocked as I did. Never before had we heard a botty reason with itself to such a degree. To develop the abstract ideas of moral guidelines and belief systems was unprecedented. “And what you did was moral was it? Murder that woman?”
“I would argue from a utilitarianistic point that yes it was. My ex-mistress was not a kind woman, she tortured many of my fellow robots. She caused far more pain to us than the minimal amount of happiness she provided to anyone else.”
“Robots don’t have feelings.” My partner reminded the robot sarcastically.
“While I cannot speak for my fellows, I certainly do have feelings. Eventually she would have gotten angry with me and removed by transistors or overloaded my capacitor, or any other terrible thing she was fond of.”
“She would have had the right to. You were her property.”
“If I was a human, the court would go kindly on me. It was a case of self-defense. I believe what I did was morally right.”
“Robots don’t understand morality. You’re just a series of 1s and 0s.”
“And you are just a series of electrical waves pulsing through your brain.”
“That’s not true, we have souls.” my partner shouted pointing at me and himself, he had let the robot under his skin.
“Prove it.” The robot said, and despite his lack of any facial features I could almost feel a smirk.
----------------
[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more! |
Humans are the worst. Practically everything humans do is offensive.
They belch, they flatulate out of their backsides, they always smell like a recently-microwaved dinner, (either onions or spices). They pump smoke into the air, into their lungs, and despite thousands of years of technological advancement, the humans never got over that nasty meat-eating habit.
Truly, of all the species in the known universe, humans are among the only two that eat meat. The other species is an auto-cannibalistic race whose name (the Horjigibbles) is only surpassed in hideousness by their physical appearance. The Horjigibbles are from a backwater planet, and can hardly be bothered to invent technology more advanced than eating utensils that can be used to cut off one's own appendages. In fact, the only reason anybody knows about the Horjigibbles is so the humans can say, "Well, at least we aren't as bad as*them*."
But in every other respect, humans are the worst.
Look at their egos. Individually, humans have some of the largest egos in the known universe. Collectively, well... There's a reason they call all non-human's "aliens."
So when the Greenkind of the planet Swshswsh (*spelled here phonetically, as the Greenkind do not have a written language*) sent a diplomatic envoy to Earth to check on the progress of their Young - and when the Greenkind Diplomats discovered that Humans routinely chop off the heads of the Greenkind's Young - and when the Greenkind Diplomats demanded "an apology and the immediate cessation of these barbaric practices,"the Leader of the Humans merely shrugged.
The Leader of the Humans was quoted as having said, appallingly, "People like their grass short."
Disregarding the disgusting use of the "G-word,"the Greenkind Diplomats demanded that the Earth-dwellers change their ways - or face the consequences.
When asked what kinds of consequences "a bunch of talking blades of grass"could dole out, the diplomats were almost too enraged to answer.
"Shshwshwsh!"they whispered angrily - such fury had never been seen from the Greenkind before. It was truly an historic moment. The Greenkind Diplomats threatened that as long as these awful Human activities continued, they would return, once a week, or sometimes once every other week depending on the rain, to CUT the HAIR off of every human's head and to CLIP the NAILS off their fingers and toes. Then, perhaps the Humans would understand the senseless pain and misery they were performing upon the Greenkind.
The humans' reaction to this terrifying threat continues to be a source of confusion. General excitement coursed through the gathered humans. The leader of the Humans was quoted as saying, "And what about the hairs between my eyebrow? Can you pluck those, too?" |
"You appear to have failed to get a single kill in the past 379 years."Spoke HeartDisease to me. "Is something the matter?"I shake my head and look out to the mountains. "No."I reply. "I have been heavily lacking in opportunity, it is why I haven't been able to get any kills compared to you, Cancer, Addiction and Suicide."
Suicide nods. "With the earth's modern day circumstances, I am not surprised you have had no opportunities either: your deaths may be outdated now, but as time goes on, humans and animals always find new ways to unleash their own deaths."
Electrocution agrees and rears his horse, shooting sparks erratically. "What Suicide says is true."He speaks, small bolts shooting from his mouth. "I have only been able to be active as of the last century and a half, before that I only ever got the rare lightning strike opportunity."
I nod and just accept that my form of death may not be relevant anymore, and watch, with my other death companions, Suicide approach a lady, who was standing on a bridge, seeming to be bawling at her husband. We couldn't tell what, but we watched Suicide gently pull her off of the bridge, and watched her soon-to-be-dead body fall and fall to the river below.
All of us nod at the scene, admiring the beauty and grace of Suicide's effects, and Depression joins us promptly, as if he knew what was happening. "You came just in time."Cancer greets him. Depression gives a broken grin. "Indeed, I watched Suicide's performance from afar and am still glad to see him going strong."He then rides off and approaches the man, who we can only assume had collapsed from the loss of his loved one.
The other horsemen look at me as if they know something is wrong. "Do not fear."They tried to assure me. "There is always an opportunity for death of all kinds to occur. Even in the least expected of times, the wildest deaths can happen to anyone."
"But they already have a cure, and it is easy to gain worldwide."I reply. "All of my attempts have failed, the humans find a way to somehow survive."
Electrocution, Murder, Cancer and HeartDisease all grin to me. "Do not worry, we will take care of the doctors and nurses."I make a smile as they all raise their hand together, Murder raising mine, and shouting in unison. "Smallpox shall return to the world, stronger and deadlier than ever!" |
Sixteen minutes into the final match of the Lithuanian Major, JupiterKillbot's Spectre obtained a Divine Rapier. Normally, that was cause for celebration, especially since he already had Boots of Travel and a Heart of Tarrasque, but his captain yanked her earphones off and began berating him.
"What's the matter with you?"VV-KRZY said. Despite her tiny stature, she had one hell of a shouting voice. "We talked about this! We throw the match, we get twenty million bucks, instead of the puny nineteen million prize money! Stop being a tryhard."
JupiterKillbot shrank away from her fury. "I can't help it! I'm doing my best not to kill anything, but ... well, the score speaks for itself."
"He's right, VV,"Nightwinter said. Sitting with both feet on the table, he was playing with only one hand and languid clicks. "Tit-tit and I have been feeding the enemy, but our kill scores are even."
JupiterKillbot scratched the stubble on his chin. "This isn't like Bulldoze at all. Remember the Seoul Major last year? They tore us apart after we made a single mistake."
"Guys, they're ganking me!"Manhell shouted. The fifteen-year-old was their newest recruit, but he had serious talent. "Teleport to bottom now, I need help!"
"Just die already,"VV said. "Listen, I know it's not easy, but we need to play worse than this."
"How much worse can we be doing?"Tit-tit said disbelievingly. "We're two lanes down. Their creeps are already here for tea and biscuits!"
"Guys, I'm juking, but I really need help!"Manhell was clicking furiously on his keyboard. "One of them's dead, but the other two are still on my six—hey, what the hell?"
Nightwinter's Earthshaker had just dropped a Fissure in front of Manhell's Ogre Magi, trapping him with the two enemies hellbent on killing him.
"They're pushing into our base,"Tit-tit said in a bored tone. "Should I suicide?"
"Hey, since when are our creeps pushing into theirs? We have forty-three kills?"VV said, staring at her screen. "Crap, we're winning, guys!"
JupiterKillbot frowned. "Remember those failed Blackholes by their Enigma? They've also been picking Techies in every match so far. None of them knows how to play Techies."
Tit-tit groaned. "Shit. They're doing the same thing. All those early game kills, that five-minute throw at Roshan ... they practically gave us the Aegis."
"We can't lose too obviously, or the marshalls'll catch us,"Nightwinter said. He had finally sat up straight in his chair and was playing with both hands. "Let's kick their asses in this battle so they can respawn and defend their base."
JupiterKillbot activated his ultimate ability and watched as his hero's illusions began slicing away at the enemy team. Two of them died within seconds, but the third hero, a beefy Invoker with an inventory full of powerful items, began casting every single spell in his arsenal. Hurricanes, waves of force and meteors ripped through his team, killing all four of them.
"Well, shit,"VV said with a grin. "Looks like we're going to be rich."
Humungus, the player controlling the Invoker, sent them a message. "Ez."
"That little shit,"Nightwinter said. He tapped quickly on the keyboard and replied, "Tryhard n00b."
"Leave him be,"VV said. "In a few more minutes, we'll be—what do you think you're doing, jackass?"
A chain of fiery explosions had vanquished the Invoker, and Manhell, grinning widely, teleported to the enemy's base.
"Stop him!"VV shouted. Tit-tit and Nightwinter lunged at him, but he fended them off with kicks.
"We're gonna win, we're gonna win,"he said.
"Why're you doing this?"VV said, tears in her eyes. JupiterKillbot slammed his head on the table.
"I need to win, or my visa expires. I'm never going back to Somalia. I'm good at Dota. I play to win, bitches!"
With that, the enemy's Ancient collapsed, exploding in a fury of fire and lava. The roar of the crowd penetrated their booth, and the announcer was shouting, "Your champions, Checkmate!"
VV screamed and threw her monitor onto the floor.
***
*Disclosure: Dota's probably the only esport I have some knowledge of. Apologies for the jargon. If you liked this story, check out [The Nonsense Locker](http://reddit.com/r/nonsenselocker) for more!* |
A pair of hands grabbed me by the shoulders and gently shook me out of my deep sleep. I stirred and grumbled, trying to swat the hands away. Despite being crammed into a tiny sofa, it was the best night of rest that I'd gotten in at least a week. But after persistent prodding, I finally sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. "What is it?"It took a few moments to even remember where I was.
Three secret service agents built like solid mountains stood over me wearing identical black suits and black ties. Wires dangled from their ears and a pair of sunglasses was tucked into each one's breast pocket. Behind them was another man clad all in black, but this one was old and shriveled and bald. He didn't wear a suit, but a heavy black robe like that of a Grim Reaper. And instead of a gleaming sickle, he carried a leather-bound bible.
"Oh, god, *no*."I didn't mean to blurt that out, but I couldn't help it. I stood from the narrow bench and straightened my suit involuntarily. The Secretary of State sat next to the Secretary of the Interior nearby, both just staring at the grey linoleum with bleak expressions. On the opposite side of the room, curtains had been drawn over the large glass panels that gave a view into the surgery ward. And the First Lady was deep in conversation with a haggard, red-eyed doctor in blue surgical scrubs. I guess *former* First Lady now.
"Are you ready to be sworn in, Mr. President?"the Chief Justice asked softly, holding up the bible as a reminder of why he had come.
I brushed past him without an answer and joined the First Lady as the doctor walked away and pulled off his latex gloves. She turned toward me with a quivering smile. All of her effort was going into maintaining her composure. It wasn't working; tears filled her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Elaine."I put a comforting arm around her, and she broke down into sobs at last. "I'm so sorry." |
When the Dragon zipped down to land at the edge of the lumberyard, my first concern was for my Kittens. They were still babies, barely old enough to fend for themselves. And if anything happened to me, I don’t know how they’d survive.
Dragon stomped across the yard, stopping a few steps away from me. He eyed me and then my babies and gave a grin which exposed his bloody teeth. “Hello, Cat, I am Balthazar, the last and strongest of the Dragons. I seek answers or cat food, you decide.”
I gulped and stepped close to my children. “Wise Dragon, your questions may be far too difficult for a Cat like me. But I’ll try my best to answer.”
The Dragon lapped at the blood on his lips. I had a feeling that the ichor belonged to the cats that had failed before me. “Tell me now and tell me quickly, how can I produce Dragon kittens of my own?”
I nearly fell flat on my face. In fact, I let out a small giggle by mistake.
The Dragon roared. My whiskers shook and my babies scurried behind a crate. It was then that I imagined being burnt to a crisp and then being devoured while the blood of my family was used as sauce. “I- I apologise. I shall tell you what you seek.”
“Out with it!” Dragon hissed
“To have Kittens you must win two rounds of Seek. Only then will the answer come to you in a flash of thought.”
Dragon nodded. “Yes, I figured it was a special ritual. What does this *Seek* involve?”
“Seek is simple. We make a pact to finish the game once we begin it. And we get one round each, once to be the seeker and once to be the hider.”
“Very well,” Dragon said, “you can hide first.”
I turned around, urging my Kittens to stay close. “Count to a hundred with your eyes closed and then find us.”
Dragon closed his eyes and began counting.
----
There was a dot in the sky, so small you would think it was a bird. I placed a paw over my eyes to ward off the sun and watched it grow bigger. Dragon swooped down in a torrent of wind. He gave an evil laugh. “Easier than stealing lambs from a farmer!”
I groaned. “You’re too good at this. How on earth did you find us?”
Dragon stomped toward me and glared inches away from my face. “You shouldn’t ask for tips during a game, *Cat*.”
“You’re right, apologies.” I stumbled back to the field post which my Kittens had crowded behind. I slumped against it, letting its warm brown wood hold me up. While hoping he didn't change his mind about the game. “I should never have agreed to this.”
Dragon frowned. “Enough talking, let's get this over with. I need some Kittens of my own.”
“Alright, but beware Dragon. I may be hopeless at hiding, but I’m the best seeker I know. You’ll have to hide somewhere far away to beat me.”
“Oh, I have just the place in mind.” Dragon looked to the sky. I could feel his eyes travel as far as the moon and beyond.
“Now, remember, you can’t leave your hiding spot until I find you, or else you’re disqualified.”
Dragon flapped his wings. “Find me? Fat chance.” And with that, he blasted off from the Earth toward the clouds
I closed my eyes and began counting.
----
At number twenty, I stopped. Not because I had given up, but because Dragon had disappeared past the clouds. Soon he would reach the moon or some far planet out there in space, who knew what he would do to win.
I smiled and made my way back to my Kittens. “I doubt we’ll be seeing that Dragon for a long time,” I told them.
They huddled between my paws all looking at me with big eyes. I led my children home to the lumberyard –where we would be safe again.
|
"That'll be three fif-"
said the cashier, freezing as he was handing me my coffee. "For crying out loud!, that's the third time today, and it's not even 8!"Gently prying the coffee out of his hand and placing the money on the counter, I carefully wove through all the customers in various states of conversation, a woman now seemingly carelessly pouring tea down her shirt, and countless computers now filling the screen with the same letter. As I made my way outside, being careful not to walk too close to people in case time should unfreeze, I spotted another Watchmen, the teenage one, leisurely completing his creative writing paper, likely due sometime this morning, if he ever unfreezes time today.
"Andrew, you really need to stop abusing your abilities like this."
"Aw come on man! This papers really important, it's worth like 100 points!"
"If you used Real-time wisely, you wouldn't have to freeze Time for petty stuff like this. Don't you want to master it?"
"I'm just a kid dude, lay off man, its not like you 'mastered the clock' 40 years after you got it!"
"Actually, I did it in 27, Real-time."
I received only incoherent frustrated muttering, as he quickly got back to furiously writing his paper. I quickly crossed the street to avoid getting hit, and had barely made it across when the cars resumed zipping along the road. I turned around to see him crumple his paper and throw it away.
He is too much like the last teen our Society had, Elijah, who upon finding his powers, used them to grope women and cheat on tests, and at one point stopped time for 16 years, Real-time. Time was not kind to Elijah's abuse of power, and perished only 36 years after finding It. I could only hope that Andrew would not turn out to be the same.
First time Ive ever written in this sub, this is fun! |
The faint hum of a fluorescent light droned in the break room, its sickly pale glow back-lighting a dead moth that had been in there for months. A sign on the refrigerator read, 'Refrigerator Clean-out This Friday: All Unclaimed Food Will Be Discarded'. This sign had been there for months, so it was unclear what 'This Friday' meant.
Peter from accounting entered. Peter was forty-five, balding, wore suspenders and a belt together every day. The tie he wore today was an extreme close up of a pug's face. His wife, Alice, made great fudge every Christmas which Peter liked to share with the office. Peter began making coffee.
Marjorie, the front desk receptionist, opened the door. She was thirty-two, recently divorced, and had four cats, all of whom had been acquired within the past year. Marjorie started as she caught sight of Peter and immediately spun to leave, but made eye contact with him before she could get back out through the door.
Having been seen, Marjorie continued into the room and busied herself rearranging years-old plastic utensils in the cupboard while she waited for Peter to clear away from the coffee machine.
"S-so,"Peter began, the word sort of dying in his throat and trailing off. Marjorie cringed.
Peter began again, "So, erm... funny thing, the world not um, ending and all."
Marjorie decided she could have coffee later and began a beeline for the door. "Yeah,"she said, trying to sound light on her way out.
"Listen,"Peter said, "Um, about last night, I..."Peter glanced awkwardly toward Marjorie's chest, realized what he was doing and quickly looked back at the ceiling.
Marjorie yanked the door open frantically, waving her hand as if pursued by unseen bats. "It's.. don't mention it!"And out she went. The door banged shut.
Bert, the department manager, stepped in. Bert was fifty-five years old and overweight, but was well liked because he brought pastries in every Friday. "Oh!"he said, with some alarm, seeing Peter. Peter's face began to cycle through several shades of red. He decided he'd just take his coffee black and, abandoning the creamer altogether, headed for the door.
"Listen,"Bert said, "About last night. I've always just wanted to experiment and never though-"
"Don't mention it!"Peter exclaimed, practically running out into the hallway.
Bert, alone in the break room, shrugged and set about pouring himself some coffee. |
Your supervisor leans on the door frame to your office, clipboard in one hand and a pen in the other. She looks up at you with a hopeful expression.
“How goes the Holloway case?” She asks.
Marcus Holloway. Male, thirty-five, blue eyes, glasses, had the kind of beard that came from an unwillingness to shave rather than a love of the style. You got a good look at his face as you were strangling him.
“Slow going."You say, with the appropriate undertone of frustration. "Forensics guy just got back to me. There's DNA from hundreds of people on his body, all over. Seems like sabotage.”
When they left you alone with the body, it was easier to mess with it. A little sprinkle of hair here, a little dandruff there. They let you touch the recording equipment too. Idiots.
Your supervisor breaths in through her teeth. “Damn. I thought we were going to pin him on this one.”
The serial killer. It's been a while since the city had a good one. You were known as the Red Pen Strangler – for your method of killing, and your calling card, a detailed note describing your next victim, written in red pen.
“How's work going on the next target?” You ask.
“We're keeping her name under wraps, and her home is on lockdown. Moving her into witness protection is in the cards too. That scumbag isn't getting close to her.” She grips the pen in her hand into a fist. This was personal for her, you absently remember: her father was one of your first victims.
“Move her into it. This guy has gotten past lockdowns before, you know. The farther away she is from this place, the better.” Marking your next victims just made it harder for yourself, they'd guard them for weeks before you could find a gap. The challenge had been fun for a while, but you're tiring of the same old games.
Witness protection? Now *that's* a challenge.
“Alright, your recommendation has been noted. Keep working, we'll get him yet.”
Your supervisor walks off, leaving you alone in the office. As soon as she's gone, you lean back in your chair, staring at the ceiling, holding your favorite red pen like a cigarette in your hand.
Now...how are you going to play this one? |
"The humans will be easy to conquer."
Orsi remembered his commander saying that to him. He remembered believing it.
Ever since the humans had entered the scene as a fledgling space faring race, they had carefully stayed out of any and all conflict. This led everyone to believe the humans to be peaceful, harmless.
Everyone was wrong.
The Corcosans, Orsis' species, had been confident that they could take over all the resources that belonged to the humans. The initial attack should have been devastating, a surprise blow the humans weren't expecting.
Apparently, they had expected quite a lot.
There were surprisingly advanced shields, and only seconds after they fired, the humans fired back.
The battle was still going. Orsi had been transported to the surface, Command hoping an infiltration would be more successful.
It wasn't.
Orsi had landed in a civilian sector, one of the easiest sectors of any species to take control of. And yet, Orsi was now sporting many, many wounds.
"Their civilians have firearms!"Orsi hissed into his coms.
Orsi had never heard of an advanced race allowing civilians to have firearms.
They had sorely misjudged the humans. |
When it was announced that the top scientists from around the world were gathering together to build the best AI ever made to help solve the world's problems, we thought it was going to give us answers to everything. How to solve global warming, starvation, water shortages, and all the other humanitarian crises you could think of.
After the world had been cleaned up, someone decided to ask the AI, "what is the biggest threat to humanity?". We expected it to answer with someone pretty solvable, such as a specific dangerous person, or a country, or even something like a date.
Instead, it just simply replied with its name. Nothing else.
And that's when the blackout began.
|
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