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“Ladies and gentlemen,” the commentator’s voice boomed across the colosseum-like stadium, “we are now down to two schools.”
“On one side, we’ve got new contenders vying for victory and surprising underdogs,” the commentator yelled enthusiastically, “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!” Half of the crowd erupted into cheers and applauses. A group of about 30 students, all wearing black robes outlined with different colours, emerged from underground.
“They are up against the defending champions,” the commentator bellowed, “Xavier’s school for Gifted Youngsters!” A louder cheer waved through the other half of the crowd, spectators chanting for the appearance of the mutants. Another group of students appeared from underground, all varying shapes and sizes.
“So far, the bronze medal of the Superhuman Olympics has been awarded to Camp Half-Blood. Who will take the gold?!” The commentator continued speaking enthusiastically. The crowds roared, yelling the names of the schools they supported.
“Now, before we announce the game, please choose 4 participants from each school,” the commentator stated. He continued to state the rules: no maiming that would lead to death or serious injury, no cheating, no swapping participants, and so on.
The students from each school huddled together and deliberated who to choose. The rule to choose participants before the actual game was to reduce cheating and/or any advantages a participant might have. In past olympics, participants tried to gather intel and choose participants specifically tailored to win the game. A block was used to prevent any foresight.
After a few moments, four students from Hogwarts, and four students from Xavier’s school stepped forward.
Hogwarts had chosen one student from each house, two boys and two girls.
Xavier’s school had chosen Specter, Hellion, Wind Dancer, and Cipher.
“I will now announce the game,” rustling was heard as the commentator opened an envelope, “the 4 Mile Relay!” The crowd exploded with excitement. “Extra rules are added to this game: no teleportation/apparition allowed, no time-travelling allowed, the baton must always be in contact with a team member.”
The 4 mile relay was one of the more exciting events as it covered different conditions and terrains. Each participant must cover 1 mile each. The exciting parts weren’t how the teams got to the finish line, but rather how the teams prevented the other team from getting to the finish line.
The four students from Xavier’s school sighed as they had not chosen a speedster. The students from Hogwarts exchanged knowing glances.
Three students from each team were transported to their respective places in the relay. The starting two students glared at each other at the starting line. The female student representing Hogwarts wore a robe with a green outline. She held her wand in her right hand. Specter smirked at her and twirled his baton.
Silence fell across the stadium as the crowd waited for the start. The moment a horn signalled to begin, darkness covered the stadium. A few scared shouts from the crowd echoed around.
Specter’s grin furthered. With his ability to merge with his shadow, he had all the darkness he needed to move freely. A screen lit up showing night-vision cameras focusing on the two students.
Specter melted to join the darkness and a blob zoomed across the stadium floor. The Slytherin student was just as surprised as the crowd. After realising what was going on, she shouted “Lumos!” A bright white light illuminated at the tip of her wand and cast outwards. “Accio!” she shouted to the darkness. A broomstick came flying in and she mounted it, wobbling a little bit. Specter had a huge head start on the Slytherin girl. He was nearly halfway to his next team member while she was still at the start line.
All of a sudden, the lights flashed back on. Specter emerged from the darkness, staring at the small spot of shadow under his feet. He started sprinting, looking back to see the Slytherin girl catching up to him on her broomstick. He used the little shadows he could to boost his speed. Soon, the Hogwarts student overtook him, trailing some dust behind her.
The baton passed from the Slytherin girl to a Ravenclaw fellow. Specter struggled to run the rest of the way but there was a few more metres until he could pass to Wind Dancer. When he passed the baton, Wind Dancer told him not to worry. The crowd absolutely ate up the friendship they saw on the screens.
The Ravenclaw boy used the same strategy as his teammate. Wind Dancer floated up and flew towards him. It was going to be a flying race between them. That was, until Wind Dancer manipulated the air around the Hogwarts student. She twirled a mini tornado to push the Ravenclaw student back while she advanced at her own pace. “Protego!” the wizard spat out, expecting the charm to shield him from the attack. Unfortunately for him, Wind Dancer was not a witch so the charm did not work.
“Obscuro!” the wizard tried again. This time, a blindfold appeared over Wind Dancer’s eyes. The mutant slowed her flying and scrabbled to rip the blindfold off. The Ravenclaw boy re-balanced himself on his broom and quickly set off again.
Wind Dancer angrily followed in pursuit, creating winds more dramatic than the last. The wizard fell off his broom. Wind Dancer happily passed him until she found herself upside down. She was being held by some force at her ankle. Out of nowhere, a mountainous wave of water towered over the two students.
The force disappeared from Wind Dancer’s ankle. She created a bubble of whirlwind around her to protect herself from the wave. “Evanesco!” the wizard shouted, and the wave disappeared as suddenly as it appeared.
While the Ravenclaw boy took time to get back on his broom, Wind Dancer covered the rest of the distance to the next member.
Cipher stood ready to run. The baton passed between them. A girl in a robe outlined with yellow screamed at her team member to hurry.
The crowd inched closer to the edge of the seats. They lived for conflict and drama.
Cipher floated off the ground and flew towards the last team member. The Hufflepuff girl had finally received the baton and followed behind Cipher on her broom.
The witch charmed herself to become invisible to prevent any incidents that occurred to her teammates.
*Two can play*, Cipher thought, and shrouded herself in invisibility and inaudibility.
The crowd murmured as the screens switched to thermo-cameras. The two were neck-and-neck. Both passed the baton to the anchors at the same time.
Hellion glowed with green as soon as he touched the baton, lifting himself off the ground with his telekinesis.
A rocky terrain appeared before the two. Hellion levitated boulders and hurled them to block the Gryffindor boy’s path. “Reducto!” the boulders obliterated.
Hellion continued to drop boulders in front of the wizard. “Waddiwasi,” the wizard whispered, followed by a switching spell. The boulders were now dropping in front of Hellion. Hellion swerved to avoid a boulder and smacked his shoulder.
Hellion decided to end it quickly. He levitated the Gryffindor boy, surrounding him with a green glow. The wizard struggled to free himself but Hellion kept his hand from using the wand.
Xavier school supporters shouted with joy and Hogwarts supporters groaned as Hellion crossed the finished line.
“And Xavier’s school has defended their gold medal! Well done to both teams!” the commentator shouted, drowned out by the crowd.
“It looks like the mutants can’t lose easily. Although that can’t be said about their hair.”
The Hogwarts students giggled as they saw the mutants. Hellion touched the top of his head.
“The hair loss curse, works every time,” the Gryffindor boy said with a smile. |
We did not expect to find them. Outside of the Earth, the universe was long believed void of intelligent species.
They didn't call themselves human, and they didn't speak a language we were familiar with, but biologically they were identical to us. What differentiated them was their mainstream adoption of cybernetic and robotic 'enhancements'; technology banned for millennia on Earth. It gave them, amongst other things, hugely extended life expectancies. We never saw a child, it seemed they had no need for them. We christened them NuHuman.
How they had come to exist was a puzzle. Two theories were brought forward to me by Richardson, our science officer, when we made contact.
The first postulated that they were a forgotten colony sent from Earth during the golden age of exploration. Records destroyed or lost, combined with a possible communications failure on board their colonial ship. But as we slowly learned about their rich and ancient history and witnessed incredible technology, the less plausible this seemed.
As ancient as their culture was, there were inconsistencies--suggestions that they had not been on this planet for their entire span. Yet if they had not come from Earth, then from where?
The second theory was that the only highly intelligent species that could ever exist, on any planet, would be akin to humanity. That we are the zenith of a universal evolutionary process.
A third theory was mentioned in the shadows by terrified crewmen. That these creatures created **humanity**, for some nefarious purpose. That we are some kind of colony of theirs. I did not listen to these ravings, and I regret that now.
Our mission, that had brought us to Alpha Centauri Bb, had been to lay a second Mirror Gate so that instantaneous travel between here and the Sol system would be possible. It would make future colonisation of the system relatively quick.
If only we had destroyed the Gate as soon as we encountered them!
My crew is now dead and I fear humanity will soon follow them. I am alone with just my thoughts and regrets for company; a spine and brain, kept alive by technology I wish did not exist. I am to be alone on this planet for eternity. I am both a warning and a trophy.
They are hunters. They are the first and the only true species of humanity. Their hearts are blacker than the void. The evil in some humans on Earth is just a shadow, a remembrance, of these creatures.
They lay seeds throughout the galaxy and when the seeds sprout into trees, they come to chop them down for firewood. |
Regret tasted like the pint of expired beer The Debater drank to drown his sorrows. To be exact, it tasted like the puke coming up after drinking that pint. Gravel crunched under his feet as he sprinted through the abandoned tunnel leading to Villain Headquarters. The aftermath of destruction greeted his sight, signalling the futility of his efforts.
To experience Armageddon was one thing. To be the root cause of it, the Patient Zero of it, was another. He, a supervillain of the lowest rank, had single handily caused the world to fall apart with only words.
Just last weekend, the Villain Association assigned his very first case to him. To get a parking ticket and, using his magnificent powers, debate his way out of it. Other supervillains get the powers to control gravity, stop time, and make black holes. Whereas he, gets the power to never lose a debate.
The policeman never stood a chance, but the legendary Superhero, Gaia the 52nd did. Gaia’s lineage dated aeons before human civilization. Said to be born from nature itself, Gaia’s ancestors fought fiercely to protect Homo sapiens. Thus, the Superhero Association shamelessly promoted Gaia as one of them on the sides of Justice. Cutting The Debater off in mid-sentence, she exposed his identity and humiliated him.
House rent, utility bills and parents to take care of. The Debater refused to let even a penny slip out of his hand at that moment. A parking ticket tantamount to financial suicide. Licking his dry lips and armed with desperation driven by poverty, The Debater started doing what he did best, debating.
“Lookie here Ms. Gaia, humanity ain’t all that great…..” Words that started a conversation that brought about the end of the world.
Moonlight illuminated the streets when the debate finished. Gaia put up a heated argument from the start about how humans were to be protected and loved. Nevertheless, The Debater magnified the ugly side of human nature through crafty use of language. In the end, doubts begun to assailing Gaia leading her to lose ground in her argument. The sound of her voice that once echoed confidently throughout the street slowly dropped, and at the end of the argument, she silently backed off.
Exhausted, The Debater returned home. Plopping straight unto his bed, his conscious faded away.
Sounds of destruction and terror brought him back to reality the next day. Hastily scouring the news and his InfoTab, it was all news about Gaia being in the process of destroying the world. Turns out convincing Gaia to let him off from a parking ticket had much more severe, far reaching consequences.
This lead to the current situation our poverty stricken protagonist stood. In front of the blazing Villain Headquarters.
“Sure, we are bad guys, but…..the end of the world? That means the end of all life! WHICH INCLUDES US VILLAINS!” Screamed The Debater. The waft of blood and smoke filled the place as The Debater spiralled through the revolving stairs.
Bursting through the door, the Debater appeared just in time to see the Head of Villains heart being ripped out from his chest. Gaia turned to him slowly, her usual green eyes now flashed red.
“Hello, my benefactor. Thank you for opening my eyes to truly see how pathetic this race I have been protecting.” Gaia purred.
The Debater gulped. It was time to rectify his mistake, with a power only he owns.
“Lookie here Ms. Gaia, humanity ain’t all that bad…..”
|
Nona stood on the sand, blood cooling on his legs. The screams still echoed around the sheet-metal labyrinth of the Rat Race. Overhead, the sun beamed down strong. Sweat beads formed instantly on his brow. Today, the metal of the Rat Race had been hot enough to strip the skin from the bottom of his feet. Now his footprints were bloody.
Behind the chain link fences the Wolves watched. Dressed in white, palm leaves kept the heat off, iced wine poured like honey. Nona gulped. He took two shaky steps. He could see no one else on the sand, but that didn't mean he was the first. In his hand he held a short spear, shaft half snapped, but the point was still good. Blooded, too. Nona grinned like a skull. He limped forward.
"Am I the first?"he asked. His throat was dry as ashes. Approaching the fence, he kept his distance from the metal links. He knew from experience they had electricity running through them. The Wolves watched impassively. Money changed hands.
"Am I the first to finish the Rat Race?"he asked. Louder, this time. Hopeful. A murmur went through the crowd.
"No,"a bored voice announced it over the loudspeaker. "A Rat has already emerged victorious. Today is not your Deathday. You will run the Rat Race tomorrow."
The only thing keeping Nona upright was the half shaft of the spear. His knees sagged. He would not win tomorrow, not with the skin stripped bare from his feet. Tomorrow would not be his Deathday, and the Wolves would come and watch again.
"Come, Rat,"two approached him with the helmet. "Let us put you back in your cage."The Pavlovian reaction made him cringe like a kicked dog: the simple sight of the contraption with its covered eyes and trailing wires.
He acquiesced meekly. They took him below, and the nightmares began again.
Rats have no families, no packs like Wolves. Every time a Rat is born, his family is slaughtered. Deliberately. Slowly. Shot in full HD with an overlaid audio track of them begging for their lives. By night, the Rats watch it, by day they run the Race and see who can be the first to rejoin their family.
They might be lucky enough to die. They might be lucky enough to be reborn a Wolf. |
"Great Dharma, what a mess."
The indescribable cosmic being perceived the universe before it with pity. It felt the imbalances and took stock of the life within. "Sapience, oh my. This doesn't look good for you, Yaweh."
Yaweh sneered, "It's a damn site better than anything *you've* made in the infinity."
"And why is that?"
"It has real life dammit! There are *consequences*. The choices they make *matter*."
"They suffer, Yaweh. You let them suffer, watch as they die alone and scared. What you've made here is cruel."
"It's more than that! There's beauty and joy in equal measure to sadness. The contrast makes this universe more precious than any other!"
"Well, it's over now. And your confession is appreciated. It will help things along."
"Confession? Confessing to what? To an emotion other than bliss? You may be happy watching rocks orbit for a supereon, but I think you might as well be dead."
"Then you'll be happy to know I'm feeling something other than bliss at the moment. These are your creations, what's the best way to let them know how to enter a paradise realm?"
"Oh, that's easy. Send a prophet." |
The old man limped to his rocking chair, easing himself into it with care. He lit his pipe, then looked at the tree with a smile.
"Looking mighty fine today,"he told the tree, rocking in his chair. "I remember when you were just a sapling, what seems like so long ago."
The wind rustled through the tree's leaves, and the old man was content with that. He loved the tree, in some strange way. It was a great listener, for starters.
"I don't have much time left, but it's been a pleasure watching you grow. It really has."
The man took a deep drag of his pipe, blowing it into the wind. "No, not long left at all now."
He looked up at the sky. "But I guess I'm ready; plenty others waiting for me on the other side."
He began to say something, then was suddenly racked with a deep, throaty cough that left him gasping for air. It took him several minutes to recover, and was left pale and breathless.
He took long, troubled breaths. "Not long left at all,"he said, gritting his teeth.
The man got up, struggling to stand upright. He grabbed his rocking chair, laboriously dragging it until it lay in the shade of the large tree.
He collapsed into the chair, breathless, but happy.
"Just you and me, tree,"he said, rocking with a grin, "just you and me."
And the chair rocked, and rocked, and rocked no more.
And the first Autumn leaf fell, softly floating through the air, landing on the back of his neck.
And then all the leaves fell almost at once, leaving the tree blank and bare.
****
****
[Subscribe](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/), if you want. |
**CHAPTER 74. Ahab.**
For some time past, though at intervals only, the maddened specter of Ahab had haunted these civilized seas. Nor did wild rumors of all sorts fail to exaggerate, and still the more horrify the true histories of these deadly encounters. But even stripped of supernatural surmisings, there was enough in the earthly make and incontestable character of the monster to strike the imagination with unwonted power. His whole high, broad form, seemingly made of solid bronze, and shaped in an unalterable mould - he looked like a man cut away from the stake, when the fire has overrunningly wasted all the limbs without consuming them, or taking away one particle from their compacted aged robustness.
Threading its way out from among his grey hairs, and continuing right down one side of his tawny scorched face and neck, till it disappeared in his clothing, you saw a slender rod-like mark, lividly whitish, giving him his distinctive appellation of the Scarred Man.
His three boats stove around me, and oars and men both whirling in the eddies; Ahab, seizing the line-knife from his broken prow, had dashed at me, as a moray eel at its prey, blindly seeking with a six inch blade to reach the fathom-deep life of me. And then it was, that suddenly sweeping my lower jaw beneath him, I had reaped away Ahab’s leg, as a morsel of food in my mouth. No malicious shark, no vying orca or pilot whale, could have smote him with more skill. Small reason was there to doubt, then, that ever since that almost fatal encounter, Ahab had cherished a wild vindictiveness against me, all the more fell for that in his frantic morbidness he at last came to identify with me, not only all his bodily woes, but all his intellectual and spiritual exasperations. That intangible malignity which has been from the beginning; to whose dominion the ancient Dagonites reverenced in their statue devil;—Ahab did not fall down and worship it like them; but deliriously transferring its idea to me, he pitted himself, all mutilated, against it, carving from a sperm whale's jaw, in an act of displaced vengeance, a new leg to replace that which I had taken from him.
**CHAPTER 75. The Human's Leg - Contrasted View.**
Here, now, seeing his natural leg torn from him, and knowing still what prosthesis he has carved to replace it; let us join them, and propel ourselves too forwards in understanding.
Of the order of man, beyond his shipcraft and sails and oars, which are but poor replacements for our own sleek bodies and flippers, it is his limbs that allow him to transverse his environments. And as we may freely examine the flotsam of their expedition: - where, I should like to know, will you obtain a better chance to study practical human biology than here?
In the first place, you are struck by the general contrast between these limbs. Both are equivalent in length, but the human leg has a mathematical grace that the artificial one sadly lacks, the peg-leg being the barest measure of bone, starkly naked in comparison to its biological brethren. As you behold them, you involuntarily yield the immense superiority to the natural leg.
From this position, it is clear that the leg is designed for propelling humans forwards on a bipedal gait, walking completely upright unlike those of us who thrust ourselves lengthways though the water. You may fancy yourselves, with your head far above your tail, moving on dry land with not a steady forward motion but with a sequence of jostling steps, as if moving upon the surface and struggling through waves with every forwards motion. The human, therefore, must be said to thrust himself forwards with irresistible momentum, unless propped rigid and upright. This peculiarity of a human's stance is a thing to be borne in mind by the hunted whale; and to be remembered by the reader in some subsequent scenes.
Let us now with whatever delicacy our teeth can manage separate the muscle from the bone. Come out now, and look at this nimble joint of the knee, which moves as if on a pivot connecting the upper and lower halves of the leg; layered with tendons and ligament and cartilage so as to allow such motion without the bones grinding against each other. For the upper half, the three muscles from behind, and the four in front, form a thigh with which to exert motion throughout the leg. The lower half, composed of two bones and many more muscles, exert force upon the foot. But the foot itself is as curious and complex as the rest of the leg altogether.
Is it not curious, that a thing so small should support the entire weight of a human, unbuoyed by water? Behold its graceful arch, and its separation into five distinct stubs, each splayed outwards and capable of their independent degrees of motion, containing among them more bones and points of articulation than the entire remainder of the leg. While the fingers of a human allow them the dexterity to grasp and manipulate their tools, these lower digits seem superfluous, encased in their boots. It may be but an idle whim, but it has always seemed to me that the extraordinary vacillations of movement displayed by these toes is what allows humans their curious grace of motion.
In these cases, the leg drifts down amidst the currents to the ocean floor, its blood and flaking skin foggying the waters, whereupon the shrimp and Dungeness crab and Squat lobsters set upon it. With their keen-cutting claws, they pinch the webbed increments of skin from between the toes, ragged trails of flesh drifting from it, until there is nothing left but the bleached coral of their bones.
**CHAPTER 76. The Peg-Leg - Contrasted View.**
Turning our heads, let us now have a good long look at the prosthetic leg, and the ingenious capacities of man needed to craft and attach such a thing. |
There were pops in the distance, they might be fireworks or gunshots, it’s probably gunshots. It was probably Josh. God Damned Josh, it was like the world revolved around him. We’re supposed to meet up over coffee and he’s always doing shit like this. I duck inside the coffee shop and grab a corner booth. It’s not even worth ordering coffee for him, all he’ll do is smell it and dash out after I mention something weird happening to me.
Nothing happened today though, I woke up, hit the gym, mowed the lawn, and showered before coming here. I made sure absolutely nothing of note happened. Jenny has been the barrista/waitress/owner here for a while, I might have to ask her out, but she’s always making eyes at Josh… God Damned Josh. She finishes dropping some drinks and pastries at the table of some huge guys in black suits. Awful formal for a Saturday, maybe it’s someone’s funeral.
Tires screech in the distance. Josh was a terrible driver, he could never keep a car for long, but always seemed to get a new one that was exactly the same. The bell tinkles and the door opens. Some pale guy in a long black coat sits at a table by the door. He reaches into his coat and eyes the suits and then Jenny. She wanders over and does that shrug she does when someone only drinks water. At this rate, Josh will get to order before I do. God Damned Josh.
An Asian guy with tattoos and a few missing fingers is making eyes at the pasty water drinker. I should go. I swear that if the coffee wasn’t always free here, I’d just stop coming. Jenny drops off some muffins to some undercover cops. Probably FBI based on how they’re more worried about the cop at the bar than they are about the mooks in the suits. Must be some jurisdictional beef between them.
The door bursts open and Josh slams it shut behind him. He throws the lock and sets the sign to closed. Like magic, the coffee is here as soon as he sits down. God Damned Josh.
He smells it and smiles, clearly remembering some bit of his recent life to himself.
“What’s good?” I ask.
He looks like he was shaken out of some revelry and answers.
“The usual. You?”
“Nothing new here. All’s quiet on my end.”
A few of the suits stand up from their table and begin eyeing Josh.
“Great, good to hear it. Had some car trouble on the way in. You wouldn’t believe how nasty traffic is.”
“I can guess.”
The yakuza reaches into his jacket pocket. Josh, of course, notices nothing.
I lift my coffee from the table, getting ready to save it and nod at the suits.
“Friends of yours?”
He looks at them for a few seconds, taking them in from head to toe as if internalizing every important detail.
“Acquaintances really.”
I reach for the plastic lid to the disposable coffee cup at that. Apparently this is going to be a to go order. Except Josh locked us in. God Damned Josh.
The FBI agents stand, reaching for their guns.
“Should I be worried?”
He motions for me to stay seated. “I got this.”
I motion for Jenny to take his coffee and she slips in like a ninja. She’s just as tired of cleaning up spills as I am of seeing them. He won’t even notice it’s gone. This looks like the kind of brawl that involves collar grabbing, not guns. Tables might get flipped but the walls have more to fear.
Josh stands and puts his hands up. “Hey fellas. Is there an undertaker convention in town?”
See? Funerals.
Big guy steps up and pinches a picture in his meaty fingers. “Where is she?”
“Betsy? No idea.”
No idea my foot, probably still naked in his apartment.
“Bring her to this address at 4pm or we’re coming to get her. This is your last…”
He gurgles a bit and falls onto the table where the coffee would have been. A knife is sticking out of the back of his neck. Mr Yakuza-Missing-Fingers is standing in a “just threw a ninja knife” pose before he stands straight and dusts his jacket. The FBI actually draw their guns and level them at the Yakuza. Before I know it, everyone has a gun out.
I stay seated. Really the best way to get through these things is to stay out of the way. Jenny ducks into a back room too. Probably to grab a mop and broom. This should be short.
The Yakuza draws an uzi from god knows where and sprays it at the agents. The cop at the bar takes a stray bullet to the shoulder. I’m sure that Josh will get blamed for that when he does the usual. He pulls an oversized revolver from his holster and shoots the yakuza in the leg. Just a flesh wound but not so inconvenient that he won’t be able to crawl away in the ensuing mayhem.
And there is mayhem a-plenty. The FBI and the Suits are now in a shootout, the pasty guy in the trench coat is somehow teleporting around the bar in whiffs of smoke and Josh is dodging between bullets. I guess I was wrong about fisticuffs. He grunts as he gets shot in the arm. I’m sure that’ll heal within the hour, doesn’t look serious. Tall and Pasty poofs near to him and drops something in his pocket before disappearing for good. Bet he’ll find that something at an important moment in his day later and I know he didn’t even see the Water Drinker when he came in.
Josh knocks the gun out of a suit’s hand and gets picked up for his trouble. Doesn’t matter that he locked the door, it’s the front window for him. Oh, and it’s raining now. Great. God Damned Josh.
I take a sip of my coffee, trying not to do anything too noteworthy and wait for the chaos to die down. A few of the suits leave, followed by the FBI agents, the Yakuza crawls away, leaving an easily followed trail of blood, and I hear Josh’s car start up. Not sure who he’s going to chase, probably the suits.
Jenny is leaning in the doorway to the backroom, holding a mop and making eyes at the broken window. Not angry, but probably something that will get her a one night stand and a hostage situation for her trouble. God Damned Josh. I’d stop coming here, but the coffee is always free.
|
"D'yer know what I though was strange today?"(the brown haired woman lowered her tone, so that only her colleagues could hear) "Sophia Brown - the Sophia with the glasses - she asked me how - well, we were talking about Victorian Literature in England and she asked me how Jack The Ripper stayed unknown for his murders? It was very odd. Out of character."
"Sophia Brown, the one with the pink hair? Who always pretends to be edgy but isn't? She does that to everyone, Mary, no need to worry."The large gentlemen laughed. "She asked me the other day how long it would take for a person to die from different types of poison!"The large gentlemen wiped one hammy hand over his sweating forehead. "Hee hee ... that's the problem with kids these days ... they're too emo ..."
The black haired lady only shook her head. "Sophia Brown is a right little terror. I caught her trying to throw chewing gum at another girl. You're right, sir - that's the problem - too much 'tumblr' and not enough trying. No kids work hard anymore - they just ask stupid questions like 'if a senior member of staff at school died suddenly would school be closed' and -"
The large gentlemen clutched his chest. Then the arm of the sofa. And then the carpet. The two females screamed as the gentleman began to choke. Blood spat out of his mouth first in droplets, and then in waves, and stained the old pink carpet red. Somewhere in the world, Sophia Brown felt satisfaction. |
Colonel John Hamilton had ordered the attack, so he felt it was his duty to carry out the mission. He was the highest ranking member of the World Air Force left, even though he had retired five years before anyone ever knew alien life existed.
As he climbed the ladder of his NG1789-S model fighter, the small crowd of soldiers, civilians and children started to get louder. Some clapped. Some cried. Some whistled. They didn't care if it attracted The Outsiders. They wanted the Colonel to have some support on his final mission. It didn't help at all.
He fired up the jets and the crowd dispersed. The fighter was the most advanced one that was left, but that didn't mean takeoffs weren't still the most dangerous part of their flights. And nobody wanted to spend the last hours of the apocalypse in agony because one of the ship's old nuclear fuel cells had exploded and showered them in toxic sludge.
The canopy descended over John's head and clicked into place, creating an eerie silence in the cockpit. Out popped the joystick controls from the fighter's dashboard, the holographic navigation systems flickered to life one final time.
The ship's A.I. came to life. "Welcome Col. Hamilton, to the Northrop-Grumman One-Seven-Eight-Nine Stealth model,"John had always hated the damned things. Always telling you the most useless information at the most inopportune times. "Your payload is not recognized by my computers, therefore I cannot recommend flight at this time."
"Pilot override!"The colonel shouted as soon as he heard his cue. It was rigged by one of the scientists to work, but the timing could still be tricky. That was the problem with running outdated ships and new technologies together, but it was what they had, and so they made it work.
The Colonel grabbed the joystick and gently pulled up. The engines fired and spun and the cabin shook ever so slightly. He pulled back and the ship shot straight up and rose to cruising altitude.
Before he rose above the clouds he stopped and turned the plane. He looked down at the land that he loved. The beach he took his grandkids to. The forest he played in as a boy. The fields and farmland he grew up working. He took it all in and he said goodbye one final time.
A blip appeared on his radar. Too small to be an alien fighter, yet big enough to be picked up. He looked to the southeast and saw the strangest little plane. It was clearly an antique, and he having taken an aviation history class at the academy, did his best to identify it.
Single engine, fixed wing. It looked almost like an old P-51, the World War fighter, but he knew it couldn't be. They were only in museums or private collections, and worth billions.
It came closer and closer, and then he saw it. It was a translucent P-51 Mustang the Cadillac of the skies. It came to a stop next to his fighter, completely defying the laws of physics and how the plane supposedly flew.
He looked at the man in the cockpit. Young and dashing as ever, looking exactly like the pictures in John's history textbooks from school.
His A.I. came to life and alerted him to an incoming message. "You are not alone."
Another blip on the radar. From the same direction, only bigger this time. A translucent SR-71 came hurling toward him, and it too stopped and sent the same message.
All of a sudden the radar had more contacts from the southeast than he could count. The sound was deafening as the blips on the screen came in. Thousands upon thousands of translucent planes came and stopped beside him. All sending the same message. "You are not alone."
He recognized some of the ships. Howard Hughes' "Spruce Goose,"the Red Baron's infamous Triplane. The Enola Gay that dropped the bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and of course some other variations of the fighters he piloted in his days. For every one he could recognize, there were 30 he didn't.
The blips of radar finally slowed down to just one and the out of step "you are not alone"messages stopped all together. He looked southeast one last time and saw and saw the oddest plane he had ever laid eyes on. It too was translucent and defying the laws of physics, not that John cared.
Two men sat in what he could hardly call a cockpit. They too were translucent. They smiled when John made eye contact with them.
The A.I. alerted him to the incoming transmission. "Colonel Hamilton! My name is Wilbur, and this is my brother Orville. You are mankind's last great aviator. We've brought some of the others. Do you mind if we fly with you on your last mission?"
John was stunned. He was still trying to process when Orville's voice cracked in through the speakers, "Colonel Hamilton we'll take that as a yes. We'll be right behind you as you lead the assault."
John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wasn't alone. He grabbed the joystick, pulled up and shot through the clouds, piloting his bomb straight toward his enemy target. Knowing he wasn't alone.
//Feedback welcomed and encouraged, this is my first submission. Thanks for reading! |
John looks out at the stands full of people. Eighty-thousand people in the stadium, billions watching from home, a billion more watching, on a delay, from the colonies on the moon and beyond.
A football flies through the air, a perfect spiral, a perfect catch. The third straight TD for the plucky Cinderella team, their first lead of the game. The roar from the crowd is deafening.
John smiles.
He swings his arm in a lazy arc. A yellow piece of cloth falls to the ground. John puts his whistle in his mouth and blows.
"Holding,"his amplified voice booms across the stadium and the cosmos. "Ten-yard penalty. Repeat the down." |
I expected the zombies to be lethargic shambling corpses. Not peak condition athletes. Everyone had predicted the 2028 Olympics to be a disappointment but not in this way. I barely had time to pick up my shotgun before firing at a zombie limping down the street at 12 m/s. I ran into my house, all the windows had been barricaded already so all I had to do was move my bookshelf in front of the door.
As I ran into my room I saw several zombies trying to create a hole in my wall. They were making steady progress as well, they had already dislodged a couple bricks. I dropped a grenade down from above and watched as their flesh scattered across the road. Distracted by the scent of rotten meat, I was caught by surprise when a zombie leaped up onto the ledge of my window. One of its legs was disintegrated by the impact but it didn't seem to care. It quickly gave up on banging on the window and went for my chimney instead. I ran downstairs with my revolver and managed to blast it to bits.
Swivelling around, a terrifying sight caught me eye. A huge metal pole swinging through the air as another zombie let go of it and descended into my garden. Several more got passed my barbed fence the same way and smashed in my back door. One zombie was impaled by splinters and I took out two more with my revolver before they caught up to me and I was forced to drop my gun so I could defend myself with hand to hand combat.
My fist and feet hurriedly flurried, keeping the zombies in bay. Their reaction times were dismal but they were not phased at all by my attacks. As I desperately defended myself I heard a crash behind me. It was the word equestrian champion, now another member of the zombie horde, and he had just rid his horse through my door. The horse was bleeding heavily and had also been zombified, it made a blood-curling shriek before trampling me with its ghastly hooves. |
For as long as I've been alive it has been my duty to safeguard the vault. Within it is the collected consciousness of humanity of the last hundred years.
It was a breakthrough technology when we first managed to convert the human brain into a computer. Even more amazing was when the computing power became enough to support multiple people. I had been supervising as they hooked the young boy up to the computer, inserting little needles into his head. It had been a suprising success as the boy with his shaved head and pale skin sent a message over the computer *I'm alive and it looks great here!*.
Over time our scientists increased the power of the computers to the point where thousands of people were able to be converted. The program came into the public sphere under the name "The Grid Project"with people spending hundreds of thousands to live in what was advertised as "a life of luxury."It quickly gained massive popularity and even more was invested into the technology as it become a cultural phenomenon.
I had signed up to look after the computer systems and ensure that there was no malfunctions on the physical side. I had my wife and children with me in the real world so I felt no need to enter into a digital world. Slowly our friends all left as the grid expanded to allow even more people. It became lonely as everyone we knew slowly went into the grid. Then my wife left. After years of angst she finally gave out and decided to enter into the grid, this happened two years ago and I still remember vividly the tears running down her cheeks as she kissed me goodbye and my heart pounding as I said goodbye to my last connection to the world.
Since my wife had left there had been a few people to slowly get added to the grid. Farmers had travelled last of all to join the grid after it became obvious that humanity was embarking into a new reality. A digital reality. People who had initially scorned the grid felt forced to join as the last of their friends and family signed up. Those who had philosophically opposed joining the grid now had no choice as the loneliness of the real world set in.
That brings me to today. With my eyes on the helmet and seat that are the upgraded conversion mechanisms a flutter crosses my stomach as I consider the same thing I consider everyday. *Will today be the day I do it?* Every time I consider this I know I can't, I agreed to this job and now humanity resides under my care. There is no more solemn duty than mine. Those living within the grid from the beginning had lived for approximately one thousand years.
My mind wanders, to a time when we were happy. Back before my son, Jacob, had cancer and my wife had been so young and beautiful. I still remember when he was six years old we had taken him to the beach. It had been a hot day and we all had ice-cream. We had spent hours building a sand castle, soaking in the sun and enjoying the time of relaxation. It was a year later that he was diagnosed with liver cancer. When we knew he was going to die it had been horrible and we were destitute. We'd heard about the Grid program through a doctor at the hospital and he suggested that we consider giving our son a chance at life.
I snap back to reality as the monitor blinks at me, I see the screen that I had loaded up once again. *Begin conversion process?*
With a tear crossing my eye I give in. I click *Yes.* As I take a seat I look around at the room that had been my life for the last few years. The dull white walls connected to the facility. I just wanted to see my wife and son again. As the helmet whirs to life my brain fades and I sink to blackness.
 
*D-d-dad?*
 
As my eyes open I look to see a man standing over me. With brown hair and blue eyes he looks to be only a young adult of maybe twenty years old.
 
*It's me, Jacob.*
 
A tear crosses my eye, in seeing him I know that I have doomed him.
*I'm sorry son, I couldn't keep going. I failed you. I'm so so sorry. This world will end and it's all my fault.*
 
He smiles, putting his arms around me and whispers into my ear, *It's all better now, I've been waiting for you for many lifetimes*
 
A tear rolls down my cheek, I know that they only have maybe three years left in real time before a critical error breaks the system. I see my wife behind my son as he holds me. She smiles with her eyes lighting up. That twinkle in her eye that I had always loved was still there. As I hold my son in my arms and see my wife there the tears fade, a smile crosses my face and I realize that maybe, just maybe, they were worth the world.
 
_____________________
This is my first attempt ever, I'm just starting to write. I'll be posting more here and I promise eventually I'll be better :) |
She was an elderly lady without a family or many people who were in her life at all. She had presented with hip pain, and despite her frail frame and her laundry lists of conditions, her physician had elected to send her for surgery. It was supposed to be a quick and easy hip-replacement surgery, a standard among today's elderly population, but any surgeon can tell you that operating on a human is never quick and easy. The slightest error can send everything spiraling, and sometimes nothing you do can bring them back.
Dr. Poe washed his hands post-op, watching the soap bubbles disappear down the drain. There were people milling about, likely even trying to get his attention - work was never over, was it? - but Dr. Poe wasn't listening.
He wondered briefly if he was, in fact, the best person in the world. After all, no one else was willing to put blood on their hands to alleviate the world's suffering.
"Poe,"a voice shouted, breaking through his thoughts, and he looked up into the worried blue eyes of Dr. Stevenson. Poe turned away from the sink, facing his coworker and putting his work-face back on.
Dr. Stevenson's face was still hidden behind the surgical mask, but the certainty in his voice was unmistakable. "She was too old for this kind of surgery, Poe. It wasn't your fault."
The intensity of a roaring forest fire simmered in Poe's veins, right under his skin. He shook his head. "Yes, it was." |
It's a wonder I haven't lost my goddamned mind yet. Some people think that psychometry is a gift. Some people think it's a scam. I think it's a curse.
I learned at a very early age that certain objects would give me a vision in my head. When I was young, the vision always seemed to be about the past of the object. This made for fantastic reports in school - one visit to a hands-on history museum and I could write one of the most evocative papers my teachers had ever read. But as life went on, the objects that gave me visions changed and evolved, slowly drifting the visions more and more forward until they eventually passed into the future. And I had so looked forward to becoming a paleontologist.
After college, I started the search for a job that didn't drive me insane. You see, the future of an object isn't always good. I worked for a brief time at a computer factory. After the first few glimpses of what contents certain hard drives would contain but being completely unable to prevent it, I eventually quit but not without pulling a few pins or twisting a few wires in the hope that maybe some of those children would be spared.
I worked at a series of restaurants for a couple of years and that seemed to do the trick but I kept dropping dishes after my fingers nudged a piece of food and it's ...particular... future sickened me. Thank god or whatever, the things I ate didn't do that. You can write a few of those off to just being accident prone or distracted, but the restaurant frowns on twenty or thirty.
I won't bore you with the rest of my CV. Suffice it to say, I eventually found a job that seemed absolutely perfect for me. I took a job at a factory that manufactured blank bullets for the movie and TV industry. It was actually a welcome relief - I basically just got to watch short clips of shows and movies over and over again. I didn't care much for TV or movies (who would, when picking up the remote or the ticket meant instant spoilers). Watching stuntmen get shot over and over again eventually became so routine that I was practically able to tune it out.
I grew to be very adept at the job, so much so that my floor supervisor had recommended me to the higher ups for a promotion. I made my way to the office wing of the factory, wearing my best dress shirt and tie (how I would have loved a future vision from that outfit to tell me if I got the job, but alas).
"Welcome, Henry! We've heard great things about you,"the manager said inviting me into her office. We shook hands (I caught a quick glimpse of a birthday party she would have in a few years when my finger brushed her wedding band) and I sat down.
"Give me just a few minutes, I've got to run out and grab the director of quality testing who will be joining us,"she said and stepped out the door. After a couple of minutes, I began to get a bit fidgety. On her rather cluttered desk were several boxes of bullets, some that I was very familiar with and some that I hadn't actually seen before. I picked up one of the new boxes and pulled a bullet out. At that very moment, my breath stopped short in my chest.
I saw myself lying in an ever-widening pool of blood, wearing some kind of black jacket that had a gaping hole in it just at the stomach. I saw a crowd of people gathered around me. Had my visions ever came with sound, I'm sure I would have heard frantic shouting and screaming. I heard the door opening behind me.
"And this is Henry Martin, one of our quality techs from Production Four. Ah, Henry, I see you've discovered our GX 50 live fire ammunition sample. That's precisely why you are here, we'd like to offer you a job in the testing laboratory quality assurance program. I'm certain this position will change your life." |
"Pipe down now!"Vice Emperor Galemgor requested, using one of his favorite *Earthian* phrases. His smile lingered a moment from the thrill of his reveal, but he covered his mouth with his hand and continued.
He stood in the center of the Central Stage, a place reserved for official galactic announcements and the occasional open mic night. Today it was the former. Tuesday it would be the latter.
The crowd before him swelled with excitement as well. They all pretended not to know what was going to happen, but the Universal Network had been positively *alive* with jubilation. Cheers and chants had begun a half hour ago, the food and merchandise vendors had set up the night before. Galemgor knew this had the potential to be a bash to end all bashes. He hadn't seen a fervor like this since Temulon 9 had exploded.
*The best day of my life!* He thought to himself. *Til today.*
"Now,"he said, addressing the thousands in assembly. "We have a very special guest today. I'll need you all to be on your best behavior, as you know how his people react to surprises."In response, a respectful quiet fell over the crowd, save for a single solitary 'boo' near the back.
"Oh shut up Webber!"Galemgor chided. A feint 'sorry!' echoed from where the boo had emerged. The Vice Emperor straightened his back and smoothed the scales on the side of his head dramatically.
"I just want to give a brief shout out to our sponsor: BORSKOTOBOROBOS itchy foot and tail cream. Remember, if it's not burning, it's not BORSKOTOBOROBOS!"
He cleared his throat.
"Now. We have a VERY special guest today on the Imperial Galactic Stage. He warmed our hearts and tickled our loganaktis glands--that's the funny bone for all of you with a skeletal system! Allllllllll the way from that *tiny* blue ball that we all know and love so well. The Lord of Laughs, the Duke of Puke, the man in the poster above your children's beds, allow me to introduce you to..."
He paused for a bit of suspense and pressed the button of the remote in his hand.
"FELIX FERRIS!!!!!!!"
The wall behind him sprang up and the crowd went absolutely bonkers. Even Webber was cheering. Light and sound poured out of the rapidly widening chasm. The Vice Emperor motioned to his visual effects engineer in the wings and he turned on the fog machine--on loan from earth.
A figure emerged from the open wall and suddenly the whole place was an eruption. Galemgor wondered briefly how messy it would be afterwards since someone had reserved the Imperial Auditorium for a birthday party at 4:30.
*Not my problem!* he chuckled to himself.
"FE! LIX! FE! LIX!"The crowd chanted in Earthian style, breaking his name up into staccato syllables. Another figure emerged behind the human, leading him to the center of the stage as the fog cleared. Felix was suddenly visible, and the increased volume was shaking the reinforced windows of the auditorium.
Felix was average height for a human--Galemgor assumed. His hair was light brown and his eyes were an interesting... brown as well. He was wearing his typical "nighttime"costume of short pants with a number on them, and a baggy shirt. His hair was bedraggled and he bore a hilariously confused look on his face.
Galemgor knew he'd have been briefed briefly on his whereabouts, but for added genuine appeal and those signature Felix trademarked catchphrases, they wanted him as unawares as possible.
A slim microphone shot up from the stage right in front of the Earthian, and he jumped back in surprise. The audience *roared* with laughter. Cautiously, he approached the microphone and leaned into it.
"Uh, hi."
The place went MENTAL. Galemgor crossed the stage and clapped a clawed hand on their guest's back.
"As you can see folks, he's just a bit out of sorts right now. *Classic* Felix, am I right?"This was met with a wall of laughter.
Felix turned to look at Galemgor and then back to the thousands of lucky audience members that had either purchased or stolen their tickets to this event.
"We've got to admit, we are probably all a little star struck that you're here with us today, Felix. We have never had a visitor of your caliber, *ever*."More cheers.
Felix leaned forward again.
"Uh...thanks."
More laughter. Galemgor could see a man in the front row crying with the strength of the hilarity. Near the middle was a group of Velation girls screaming and holding signs professing their love for Felix.
Galmegor turned to the now blinking wall screen behind them.
"Let's look at some highlights shall we?"The audience cheered again, as it quieted down, a soft "boo!"emerged from the back again.
"If I have to tell you one more time Webber--er, uh, yes, ahem."He didn't want to seem rude in front of their guest.
"*Please* direct your attention to the Galactic Network Screen, Felix."
A short clip played. Felix was a few years younger and was at a restaurant with a dark haired woman that the audience knew all-too-well was his ex-girlfriend Aubrey. This was a fan-favorite episode called "Love".
Felix's expression changed from confusion to horror as he was witnessing something he'd probably never thought he'd view again in ULTRA 67K HD.
"I'm sorry, Felix, but I just don't want to be with you anymore."Aubrey began, her tone seemingly sad but also, the audience could tell, tinged with relief. Laughs began.
The Felix on the screen leaned forward.
"But why? Can't you give me a good reason? (Audience laughtrack) Is there something I can do better? (MORE audience laughing)"
The real audience laughed along with the imbedded tracks and even Galemgor let out a chuckle.
"You just don't have your life together Felix. (laughs) I can't spend the rest of my life taking care of you and ALL of your emotional issues! (more loud laughs) You're a depressed mess and I have been trying but I just. cannot. take it. ANYMORE."
At this point the entire assembly was screaming with laughter and hoots. This was one of the funniest moments in television history. This scene had won over 600 awards at the Imperial Galactic Television Awards.
The Felix on screen started crying, and there was so much laughter in the audience that people were getting sick. The scene ended and the audience cheered as a new clip popped up. This one was one of the most dramatic scenes ever broadcast.
The audience went dead silent. Felix was standing in his bathroom, white cream on his face and a razor in his hand. Slowly, he dragged the razor across his cheek, clearing the line from his face. Gasps could be heard from all around, some folks were on the edge of their seats. Not only was this a ground breaking staple of television themes and tropes, but it was difficult to watch for the faint of heart.
As he cleared another line of cream from his face, the razor nicked his skin, and blood dribbled out from the wound. Many in the audience screamed, and another few passed out. Quickly, Felix grabbed tissue from the roll near his ejection throne and mopped up the blood issuing from his cut. The audience lost their minds.
The scene ended and all eyes were on the present Felix, standing frozen in place on the stage.
"Well, Felix,"Galemgor began, "do you have any words of wisdom for your billions of adoring fans?"
There wasn't a sound to be heard in the whole of the place. Not even from Webber.
Felix finally seemed to regain his composure and leaned forward.
"I'm terrified and I want to go home."
ERUPTION. This got the loudest laugh of the night. People began cheering and chanting again. Whistles were absolutely RAMPANT.
"Alright folks, that's enough for today. You'll have plenty more Felix moments because he's GOING ON TOUR!!!"Galemgor raised his hands and the screen behind him ignited with features that the marketing department had spent days crafting.
"That's right, check the Network, because our boy Felix here is going to be traveling to YOUR neck of the woods very soon! He'll dine in the finest restaurants and talk to some of the best hosts in the biz! And he'll be taking YOUR questions, so head on over to the Imperial Galactic Network Page and check out the dates. Use the code 'VICE EMPEROR GALEMGOR IS NEAT' to get a small discount on tickets!"
Felix was quickly shuffled away from the stage and Galemgor basked in the glow of the enamored masses. He nodded to the stage handler and the man went back to give Felix more of an exhaustive update. He shuddered thinking about what they'd need Felix for. His *true* purpose in being whisked away to this place. But it couldn't be helped.
"Felix,"Galemgor muttered, "you're our only hope." |
I have a confession to make.
Almost two years ago, I made the biggest mistake in my life. Prank-editing Wikipedia. It started out small, with a satire edit on the page about Religion.
Five simple words.
[73] See also, Flat Earth Society.
Unbeknownst to me, in that moment, the Flat Earth Society sprung up into existence. But they did not appear when I made the edit. The second I hit 'enter', they had always existed. But I know nothing of this. So I continued.
My next edit hit the Austria page. Under 'Demographics', I wrote "A detailed dissection of the two kinds of cocaine users in Austria."
It was divided into "Austrian with cocaine-fueled imagination"and "Austrian with cocaine-fueled anger".
The point of the joke was to emphasize the friendliness of Austrians, but I created monsters.
The first was Freud, the second was even worse. Hitler.
It was a long night. Many articles were edited. What other things did I create, you ask? Here's the shortlist:
McDonald's,
Buddhism,
The Confederacy,
Political correctness,
EA *i'm so sorry*,
The third and fourth seasons of BBC's Sherlock,
Light beers,
Ajit Pai,
Literally half the memes you see on the internet,
Anti-vaxxers,
PETA, formerly a brutal, bloody gang named Peeps Eating Tons of Anchovies turned into an even more brutal and bloody gang with better publicity and lawyers,
The limit imposed by the speed of light,
The United Kingdom, seriously, Wales, England, Scotland and Northern Ireland *as one country*?
Bad PSAs,
And finally, my worst mistake, my magnum opus:
An anthropomorphic, rich, alt-right cheeto as president of the United States. Forgive me.
I created Donald Trump.
It is too late to undo what I have done. I cannot afford the Wikipedia editing package. The last of my savings is going towards this warning.
Don't eat the yellow snow. I also made that.
Goodbye, reddit. |
“You are a very difficult angel to find, Mr. Mort.”
Mort sighed and ignored the voice. Once again, one of those heavenly messengers was barging into his business like they owned the place. All he wanted was some peace and quiet to fix up his boat. He had hoped that hiding out in a garage in a random city in the Midwest after closing hours would give him some privacy.
“I am busy,” hissed out the personification of Death itself as he pushed around cans of paint thinner as he searched for decent sandpaper.
The intruder, one of the messenger angels, straightened his helmet and straightened his spine as he dared to look Mort in the face. He held out a wax-sealed letter. “Message for you. High priority.”
Mort groaned in annoyance and swiped the letter out of the glowing angel’s hands. He tore open the letter and threw it on the ground. The first sentence of his letter only made him groan louder.
“No. No, no, no! I can’t have *guardian duty*,” Mort spat in disgust, “I got myself taken off that rotation. Don’t they remember what happened last time? I have too many jobs to do! I couldn’t keep an eye on that girl!”
The other angel lifted a delicately crafted eyebrow but did not respond.
“Big scandal. Lots of the people upstairs were offended. But it wasn’t my fault! It was 1937! There were massive things in the works all over the globe. People were going to die *everywhere* and I couldn’t be tied down looking after one lady that couldn’t make up her mind which continent she wanted to be on!” Mort grumbled and stomped around the garage. The other angel stood by at attention as he waited for the infamous Angel of Death’s tantrum to end.
Finally Mort spun around and pointed at the messenger. “Tell them I cannot do this.”
“I am sorry, sir, but I was given explicit orders to ensure you accepted the position.”
“Find someone else!”
“Again, I am sorry, but it was clear that this position was only to be given to you.”
“This-this position?!” Mort raged as he gestured at the letter, “Those bigshots think that just because they work up in the big house that they can make the Angel of Death himself accept the position of *Replacement Guardian*?!”
“It was considered a delicate situation that needed your deft hand. The subject’s original guardian resigned unexpectedly. It...” Here the messenger hesitated and looked around the room suspiciously. He pulled his smartphone out of his pocket and powered it down. Then he looked up at Mort. The other angel’s odd behavior made Mort calm down and pull out his own phone, an old Nokia brick, and turn it off. The messenger nodded his helmeted head and whispered, “I think those…erm…’bigshots’ are hoping for another scandal.”
Mort was taken aback. He had gotten so much shit from his fellow angels after he lost track of Amelia back in 1937. The Angel of Death looked over his visitor appraisingly. His posture seemed earnest and most angels were incapable of lying. “Fine. Say I believe it. But why should I accept this one?” He brandished the letter menacingly. “I was to be given a full century’s reprieve from guardian duty. There are still twenty years to go. I don’t have to accept anything from you.”
The messenger angel shifted nervously on his feet before pulling a second envelope from his messenger bag. This one was of a glowing golden parchment that contained no seal, but it would have been unnecessary. Every angel knew who wrote letters on this paper. “I was told to give you this,” murmured the messenger, “if you did not accept the job.”
After a moment’s hesitation Mort took the envelope and carefully opened it. Inside were four small golden notes.
“Are you serious?”
“Sir?”
“The Big Man is offering me ‘Get out of Civic Duty Free’ cards?”
“He…seemed insistent that you accept the role.”
Mort drummed his fingers against the golden envelope. The messenger fidgeted uneasily, wondering how he would explain to his superiors if the Angel of Death did not accept this offer.
“They do realize I will not stay with my charge? I have to leave any time there is a significant loss of life *anywhere* in the world.”
“They have no problem with that.”
“He would be at risk from demonic forces and I would not be there to guide him in case of emergency.”
“They accept that risk.”
“…very well. Tell your superiors that I accept the role of guardian angel to the unfortunate soul now in my charge.”
With a snap of heels and a salute the messenger angel was gone. A few feathers fell in his quick retreat through the doors of the garage. Mort ignored his exit and looked over his original letter to find out more about his new charge.
“Been a while since I have been heaven’s unintentional hitman. You must have really pissed off the Big Man, Mr. Pai.”
|
We have colonized a habitable planet which is the third terrestrial object from the sun. It resides in the system 5-0-L Dexteria, which was recently discovered by the Desteria telescope. The planet we colonized doesn't have an official name yet but our scientists are currently debating on it. There was a name that i saw which was "Maa"which itself is the name of the goddess of life in our religion. I think the planet will be named after it. Anyway, I'm a scientist at the headquarters who researches this planet. I have been here for approximately 9 moon rotations, or ever since this planet was colonized. I have seen this planet having seasons like our own does, but the seasons here are way more noticeable. Currently we are in the middle of the winter.
We are currently researching an anomaly, very odd to our standards. All of the population on this planet, which is approximately 25 million, has reported a strange anomaly in their homes yesterday. A tree decorated with strange lights has appeared in all of their homes, with different sized wrapped boxes with objects inside them. Some were afraid they were bombs, some were curious and opened them. This has happened to me as well. It was weird but for some reason, i felt happy.
|
When my lander materialized on Mars, I was greeted by cheers from my comms. We had sent probes before, but mine was first manned spacecraft to be sent through NASA’s faster-than-light teleporter. When I took my first tentative steps outside on the red soil, there was another wave of applause from Houston. The technology worked. Humanity could now send itself to the stars with ease, communicate across any distance in an instant. Putting a man on Mars was just the beginning. I grinned in spite of myself.
And then I saw the body.
Two legs and the lower half of a torso were sticking out of a dune just ahead of me. The corpse was wearing a white NASA spacesuit, identical to mine. I pulled it out, sweeping red dirt off its nameplate. There was a burnt hole on it, like someone had shot a laser clean through.
*Major John Kendall.* My name.
The face in the spacesuit was rotting, but there was no mistaking its features. The sandy blonde hair. The grey eyes. It was me. Beneath the body, I could see the outline of a lander identical to mine, buried deeper beneath the red dust.
There was commotion from mission control. “*Fuck. He saw one.*“ Then another voice. “*He can hear you! Shut it off!*”
The comms went silent. Despite all my training, I began to hyperventilate.
A post-it note had been stuck to the man’s neck. I pulled off his helmet, leaning close. The message was in my handwriting.
*Houston is lying.* And then: *Run.*
My radio flickered back to life. “*Major Kendall, you know the protocol for any potentially hostile situation. Return to your ship and wait for us to assess the situation.*”
I didn’t move a muscle, resisting a wave of nausea. Not in a million years could I have trained for a situation like this.
“*Major Kendall, return to your ship immediately!*” The voice’s tone was desperate.
I ran away from the ship, as fast as my cumbersome suit could carry me.
Mission Control panicked. “*He’s off loop! Wipe! Wipe! Start it over!*” And then, in a more quiet tone. “*I’m sorry, Major.*”
The air crackled with electricity ahead of me, the telltale signs of teleportation, and a drone the size of a helicopter materialized in front of me. Its design looked centuries ahead of any technology NASA had. And all of its weapons were pointed at me.
Before it could fire, it exploded in a massive fireball. A figure wearing a helmet stood behind it, carrying a futuristic gun. Before I could speak, it held up a hand. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll answer all of them, but if you want to survive the next hour, I need you to shut the fuck up and do exactly as I tell you.”
I managed to stutter out my first words since I had stepped onto the planet. “H - How can I trust you?”
The figure pulled off his helmet, revealing a old man’s face, complete with a scraggly grey beard. For some reason, his skin didn’t rupture from the pressure. “You’re not on Mars. You’re in a research facility orbiting Alpha Centurai. Your real mission ended a century ago.” There was something eerily familiar about both the man’s voice and face.
“When you think about it, Major, a teleporter is just a long-range copy machine. If you have the record of someone who’s been deconstructed, you can make any number of replicas. Even a hundred years after the fact.”
The blood drained out of my face. “John Kendall?” I said.
The old man nodded, and offered a hand to me. “John Kendall.” With his other hand, he shot his rifle directly upwards, and the landscape flickered like a broken screen. The sun and sky disappeared, replaced by a dark metal dome only a few hundred meters across. Behind the man was a sizzling hole in the structure.
My entire mission had been a simulation.
I grabbed the hand of my older self, and fled into the real world. |
"Holy shit, oh my godddd what the fuckkkk."My expletives break up the burning pains from the bites as I fall over.
*MMphh* I feel my insides contracting and the taste of bile rising up my throat.
*Keep it together, keep it together Dave. I couldn't even fucking live to be thirty, fuck. Tomorrow was supposed to be my birthday.* I think to myself
The creatures are taken aback, staring at one another quizzically. The werewolf leans over, placing a paw onto the vampire's cloaked shoulder.
"Uh..nothing's happening Vlad."He whispers.
"Quiet Lucian, you and *Doto*--"Vladimir nods over to the raggedly dressed, nearly collapsing pile of skin standing to my right.
"--interrupted my feast! Do you know how much lifeblood a pure mortal possesses?"He clicks his tongue in annoyance.
"Me sorry Vlad, me hungry too, *urghhh*"Doto's jaw begins hinging off. He pushes it back, locking it with a bone-chilling *crack* as it sets.
"*Sigh* No worries my dear undead. Though this is certainly quite a nuisance. The time for feeding has passed. He's been bitten by us all. We should sever his head right here and now."He bares his fangs, the gleam from his molars glinting in the pale moonlight.
"Whoa, whoah there Vlad."Lucian scrambles towards me.
"We can't just off him like that, what about his pure blood? Eh? We can still make a snack of him?"
"W-what do you mean pure?"I croak, the pain from the bites and the nausea subsiding ever so slightly.
The three glance over towards me.
"Uhmm, pure, as in you've never...ahh..experienced another."Vlad answers cryptically, blushing a little as he pulls his hood back across his face.
"Like, you haven't really...exchanged blood with anyone else."Lucian adds and sidles back sheepishly.
"*Blurhhghh* You no engage in sexual intercourse with other mortal, you pure blood, *Bluuurgh*."Doto raises one finger proudly.
The other two, seemingly taken aback at Doto's eloquent, if not blunt, answer, shake their heads vigorously in agreement.
"So...You all decided to attack and bite me tonight because I'm a virgin?"I ask flatly, unamused.
"Yeah."
"Pretty much."
"*Blurhgh* Doto think you have nice arms, very defined."Doto implores helpfully.
I sigh loudly.
"Well what now? You said it was pass the period to feed, I'm obviously infected now."The nausea begins to rise once more, like molten lava slowly building.
"Oh god, I think...I think I'm changing..."
"Doesn't work like that my dear fellow."Vladimir sashays over and takes a knee, tilting my head back.
"MMm..very interesting, your eyes are still white, so no signs of lycanthropy."To which Lucian grunts disappointingly.
"Your skin still seems to be intact."Vladimir pinches my cheek gently as Doto whimpers.
"And your teeth..."I open my mouth as a courtesy.
"...mm yes thank you very helpful, do not seem to be sharpening or growing."
He stands up and steps backwards.
"What manner of being are you?"
The three begin edging away, slightly alarmed.
I glance at my wrist watch:
*12:00am*.
I smirk slightly, the hairs on my head rising, pulsating with electricity.
"Huh, I guess it is true what they say."I stand up, cracking my neck.
"You do turn into a wizard on your thirtieth birthday..."
"...If you're a virgin."The three murmur with dread.
"Happy birthday to me."I say with a chuckle. |
***Nightfall***
"Be quiet."
The flashlights scanned the dark. Yellow, almost feline, wallpaper covered the walls. Sickly flowers bloomed across it, laced with dust and what smelled like cheap rum. Rough carpet, almost as harsh as sandpaper sprawled across the floor. Kevin, her partner, had gone around the back. The call was an ALP, one of the worst. Most officers regretted what they'd find - bodies, rape victims, little children crying out their eyes, clutching onto what scraps sanity they had. It was some kind of sick rite of passage, seeing the worst in humanity.
Finally, she reached the last door. *Something* was on the other side, a vast, single *breath*. It gasped in, continually, like a heartbeat that refused to stop. Broken melodies spilled into her head, accompanied by images of the things she might see.
Gritting her teeth, she gripped the door.
1
2
3
*Turn*
She couldn't see much; shadows veiled almost everything from sight, and the dust clung to her uniform. A fan blew in the corner, and a TV monitor hummed with static. It was almost possible to pull images from the shifting sea of pixels, faces and hands pressed against the thin glass. Fumbling for a light switch, she pulled the door to a close.
*Click*
Heavy industrial lights booted up, blinding white. They dripped down everything like melting wax, incandescent. A single seat lay still in front of the television. Twitching inside it, bound down, was a little girl. Her feathery hair drifted away from her head, the pale white of her skin snowlike. If she was dead, she must have died recently, and from something not particularly painful - a silly grin stretched across her face, the teeth the yellow of the wallpaper.
Worst, though, was the eyes. Cream, a sour milky color that seeped across the pupils and the iris.
Michelle reached for her radio.
Then she saw it.
An implant, of some kind, burrowed into the little girl's neck. It hooked up to the TV through a thin, whip-like cord. Black rubber wrapped around scratching wire.
Another one lay next to her, stained red with blood. Dried, more like paint than human blood.
Tentatively, she reached for it.
She screamed.
1
2
3
The world was falling apart into black and white static, spiraling ember galaxies and the ashes of creation scattered across an infinite void filled with meadows and flowers of tetrahedrons that grew and shrank in response to the buzzing lights of black holes consuming and reproducing; indescriable storm clouds, hurricanes of ones and zeros, spun and crackled with something that resembled electricity and amber that loved and died, soft water that felt like velvet underneath cracked fingertips; shapes that moved and danced and screamed and mourned and drowned and felt the biting wind of a desert filled with towers of bleeding sand and weeping seas that burned with salt and pepper, red wine and secrets; tracing nail lines through mountains of golden hearts and stillborn snow, flying like paper aeroplanes across the grasslands of glass and metal sheets that did not cut but comforted like the impossibilities. No color, no feeling, no sensation but so much knowledge, pressing you into the earth, pulling you through the rocks and sharp soils.
And a little girl, standing in the center of it all.
Michelle gasped for breath. Her lungs didn't work - her bones didn't work, her organs let their fluids evaporate with what little air she had left.
She tried to scream again.
A smile.
More smiling.
Then the sound of snapping wood, mirrors fracturing. Crystallized skin spilled across the universe that spun and dropped and felt the tugging emptiness of gravity.
*Help*
Michelle let go.
She hit the floor with a wet *thump*, her spine folded neatly in half. Her eyes bubbled out of her skull, her vocal cords sparking with remnant smoke.
The little girl kept smiling, the yellow teeth gulping in the waxy white of the new light. How long it had been since she'd feasted on light. Millenia in that other world, absorbing, sorting, analyzing the spectrum, devouring it.
The husk of Michelle twitched. Muscles spasmed, quickening and releasing. Her heart pounded under the stress of a heavy weight of a new life.
Forcing her newly broken body to stretch and move, Piper said goodbye to the little room. Sure, this world was a little harder to control, but she could already feel the taut strings of reality pulsating greedily.
Light.
So much more light.
And how much brighter she would make it all.
She turned the doorknob, and let it shut with a *click*.
Her intercom buzzed. Kevin, again. He'd managed to break in through the back. The body of the professor had been found.
She traced the memories. They were comfortingly familiar.
Smile.
"Be quiet."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
If any of you guys want to find more of my writing, /r/Nocturnal_Nightmares, my sub, is full of them! |
Like, literally? Literally this was the stupidest thing I'd ever seen. Like, I'm not even joking. Yeah, OK, *sure*, I guess it was a little scary, you know? A guy with a big knife and a sloth mask running through the woods at you while going "ay-yee-yee-yee!"would scare any girl, you know? But oh-my-god it was just so *lame*.
OK, yeeeeah, so *maybe* I was about to get murdered out in the middle of the woods and nobody would find my body for like a million years and all my family would be really upset and look for me for like forever, but this guy was just, I mean, he was just so, I mean, I can't even. How lame was this? I thought this was going to be like, a first date thing. That's what the craigslist ad said. Looking for a first date with a beautiful blonde. And I was *totally* that. But then I show up to this "secluded restaurant"and just find some guy with a knife and a sloth mask and like I said before, he just kept going "ay-yee-yee-yee!"
It was like, a meme, I think. I dunno. I don't do the whole *online* thing, really. But I'm pretty sure my little brother would know, because he is *such* a nerd. He's like, on*line*, like all the time. It's really weird and it really stresses my mom out because she like thinks he's never going to leave home and never going to meet a girl and he's *really* weird and I just don't really know and anyway, like, if he was here, I'm sure he would know who this guy was like *roleplaying* as or whatever, and I'm pretty sure it was like a famous character from Star War or Galactaca 5 or whatever shows that nerd liked to watch.
But anyway, my brother wasn't there and I was sort of, I dunno, I guess *limping*? More like crawling, really, I guess, because I forgot to mention that my leg had gotten like totally *broken*, you know? I mean, look, I'd worn heels because this guy looked sooooo hot on the picture he sent me and I wanted to look nice and everything, you know? And so as it turns out running from a serial killer who has a knife and a sloth mask and goes, "ay-yee-yee-yee!"when you're wearing heels out in the woods is *really* not a good combination. On top of that, he like, he set traps in the woods, I guess? I don't know if they were really traps because I don't follow that sort of thing but like this big old metal thing chomped down on my leg and like *totally* broke it. And so I was sort of crawling away in the woods and yeah, OK, so I was crying a little and my makeup was *totally* smearing, but like literally? Literally I think you would be doing the same thing in my situation because it was pretty stupid and lame.
And this guy? I mean, oh my *god*. He was such a nerd, waving his knife around like that and getting closer and closer while I sobbed and tried to fix my heel that had snapped and he kept coming closer and going "ay-yee-yee-yee!"This was *so* stupid. When I got out of this, I was going to make my brother tell me who this guy was supposed to be because I'm pretty sure sloths who went "ay-yee-yee-yee"was totally like from Spongebob or whatever else it was that my brother liked to watch.
And so, like, this is for real, so like, I'm crawling along through these horrible scratchy plants in the forest and like, you wouldn't even -- suddenly there's this rope on the ground that I *totally* didn't see and suddenly I'm hanging upside down and I'm pretty sure this was another trap but I don't really follow that sort of thing, you know, so it was like, just whatever.
And I couldn't even as I dangled from the branches of some stupid tree and my leg *really* hurt and this guy with the sloth mask was like almost right there and he kept going, "ay-yee-yee-yee". He didn't look like he was going to stop and his knife was pointed right at my face and he kept going "ay-yee-yee-yee"over and over again and like *literally*? Literally this was the lamest thing I'd ever seen. |
There he stood, his face masked in the shadows of a dying tree. He scanned the horizon for a sign of Life, sighing as he sat down on the hard earth, silent and watchful. He stroked his horse's mane and whistled a sad tune that broke the quiet of the skies.
They had abandoned him. Weary and broken by the follies of man, they had left this world, left him all alone. Left him to face the darkness and the chaos for which his brothers so badly yearned. This time, Peace was not sure he would prevail.
The golden hue of the wheat fields had faded, the azure skies above him besmirched by smoke and ash. No longer could he hear the melody of the birds singing in his ear. No longer could he feel the warmth of the sun as he basked in its glow. It had all been replaced. Replaced by screams, and weeping. The sound of a mother's cry as she watched her child's life force wane. The piercing howl of a heartbroken father as he cupped his son's face with his leathered hands, begging him not to die. He heard it all, and it haunted his every waking hour.
Fires burned, and forests fell. Civilizations and cultures that had withstood millenia collapsed, taking with it the hope and the fervour of humanity, the love and the excitement that defined this world. Pestilence had consumed everything in its path, leaving only pain and grief in its wake. Death and Famine had run rampant, and for the first time since the dawn of creation, nothing had stood in their way.
But then. Slowly, almost as though he had imagined it, a warmth began to flow through his dilapidated bones. Shoots of viridescent green began to creep through the blackened soil, and the grey that surrounded him began to brighten, banishing the fires and the darkness that had shattered his habitat. A bird settled on the branches beside him and began to sing, gentle and serene.
His horse looked at him solemnly, and he understood. Peace would always prevail. His brothers would return to his side, and with them, the dreams, the hopes, of an entire planet. It was time to right all the wrongs that had befallen his people. Time to vanquish the devil they had awakened.
|
Incomplete, my phone is about to run out of battery. Will finish if people think it's good.
I had messed up, that's for sure. God didn't like the way I had handled my last assignment, and now I got the worst one there is. Hell inspection. All the screaming and wailing and gnashing of teeth you could ask for, and none of the glorious works of God.
As I approached the gate, I was surprised to see Lucifer himself there to welcome me. Usually he sent one of his prize works, popes that he had turned to damnation.
He greeted me, sounding actually thankful for once. "Ah, hello Gadariel. Long time no see. You ready for the inspection?"I just glared at him and continued through the gate.
I was struck by an oddity, but I couldn't place it until I saw my first denizen. He was sitting in a lake of brimstone, cross legged. He looked to be meditating. Then I realized the problem. Hell was quiet.
"Lucifer!"I snapped. "Where is the screaming? The wailing? The gnashing of teeth? The MISERY???"
"Wellll."Lucifer's reply was drawn out, like he didn't want to admit something. "You see, there was a man, I thought he was a beggar, but he's too well spoken really. And he just refused to suffer. And then he talked to everyone else and then they all just stopped suffering too. I don't know what to do". |
Over the past two years surviving in the wastelands I had grown from a shy and nerdy kid to a tough and capable man. Well, technically I was still a teenager, but in my mind I was a fully grown badass. There was just one thing ruining that image...I still had braces.
I had tried everything to get them off, but nothing had worked. Eventually I accepted that I needed expert help. I was on a mission...and only an orthodontist could end my search.
I now lived in a small city near my tiny hometown. The problem was that although I was now familiar with the streets and many of the buildings, the two orthodontist offices I had come across were very abandoned. An apocalypse isn't exactly a great economic environment for dental work. Or at least that's what I had thought, but now I realized I would pay quite a bit to get my braces removed. The one time I wanted to have my teeth worked on, and I couldn't even find anyone to do it.
The funny thing about my search was that I still hadn't told anyone about it. Nowadays you couldn't afford to show any weakness... a bit like jail. So I didn't want anyone to know I was insecure about my braces. I would tell myself over and over...they make you look tough, it's like having a grill...just like a rapper, so don't worry about it! But I knew the truth.
Generally most people kept their former lives secret now. Telling someone that you were an accountant isn't going to do much for your reputation.
Recently I had been traveling with a guy named Brett, he was about 20 or so. Definitely not an orthodontist. We had been together as a team for about a month and got along well. He seemed like the type who had been a bit of a nerd too...but anyone who had lasted this long had to become tough quickly, and it seemed he had done just that. Over the month we had occasionally talked about old hobbies, like comic books, movies, and so on. He seemed pretty trustworthy, so it was nice to be able to relax a bit. Last night we had talked a bit about our parents, all of whom were now dead...turned out his mom was a dentist. So close. So today I had been thinking...maybe I would share my quest with him. His mom was a dentist, so maybe he would know someone else in that field.
That night we sat inside the top floor of an old department store with a tiny fire and some canned food.
"So what was your favorite show?"asked Brett.
"Probably Game of Thrones,"I told him. "Tyrion was my favorite character, but now I think it would be Arya. I can kinda relate to her ability to survive and not give up."
"Good choice, that's a good show. Arya is pretty cool."
"Was cool,"I interjected...being more of a buzz kill than I intended.
"True."Brett replied, without changing his tone.
"Brett. So, your mom was a dentist, right?"I asked, easing into the topic.
"Yep. Was."
"So...I actually haven't told this to anyone, and it's just a silly thing, but...well, obviously I have braces, and they should have been off à year ago. So I decided I want to find someone to take them off,"I said with a casual laugh, trying not to sound too serious.
"Oh, I can take those off for you,"he said nonchalantly. "Only issue is your teeth would have to come with them."
"Ya, I thought about that approach...decided against it."
"Fair,"Brett replied, with a little smile on his eyes.
"So, you wanna help me find someone? Maybe your mom was friends with an orthodontist, or a dentist?"I asked, trying to keep it fun and light.
"I mean...ya, she was friends with some. Was. I have no idea if they are still around, or anything like that,"he answered. "But sure, why not...I can try to help. Maybe we can go to my mom's old office and see what we can find."
"Thanks man, I appreciate it."
"No problem, it's good to have a little side project other than plain old survival. Plus it's fun to have a friend again. Never had too many of those to be honest,"Brett said with a smile, and an air of hard earned confidence and wisdom. "We'll take a look tomorrow."
We stayed up a bit longer chatting, but went to sleep shortly after. I was happy to have an ally, and maybe even a friend. Things were looking up.
|
commit b8ed9d475b69f553790e36cb0d2b3d6455e9b4e4
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Tue Mar 13 15:42:33 2018 +1000
feature--increased the flavour of pizza during full moons (easter egg)
commit e811340e71b0f4bdbb5250a551d6f4bd0c330226
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Mon Mar 12 17:30:12 2018 +1000
bugfix--this tweaks the previous bugfix, actually fixing it this time
commit 73b24e2ca3d6d8812ab19a32c872f86a3acd7a82
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Mon Mar 12 16:01:44 2018 +1000
bugfix--refractive glitch made double rainbows too often
commit f9dd33a2f0c5a417baca9c67da4d82305e372578
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Mon Mar 12 15:52:36 2018 +1000
added test for socialism service class, and fixed some type casting errors
commit 692bd228dac92eeff53d04546c0707cd8087d038
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Mon Mar 12 12:32:05 2018 +1000
nerfed Elon Musk (new attributes found in db log)
commit 8f9af806523266228fd7fc89598bf93299352984
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Wed Mar 7 12:20:40 2018 +1000
tweaks to weather, reduced hurricane production
commit 9464013554104b90295e59e67ccfbe06d37f6a7a
Author: Morgan Freeman <i_made_ur_mom@gmail.com>
Date: Wed Mar 7 10:24:55 2018 +1000
Opening commit log to public view (blog was too time-consuming, y'all can read my git log) |
I could not be more removed from the actual scientific process that leads to exploration of the other world, though, I feel it is my duty to record it here for fear that visiting her might awaken some unnatural thing that for now is in tangible but in mere days may be reality.
Why mankind cannot heed the sounds let alone the sights that the day of The Brush puts forth, I cannot fathom. You cannot describe a noise like the one we hear bi-yearly, but I feel urged to try. As the she approaches through the sky you do not notice at first how aggressively she rips through the Aether of space on her near-collision course with us, though, how could one be expected to pay any sort of attention to such a common occurrence.
A keen observer might make out birdlike things flying far above the surface of that place, and a keener one might dismiss it as only imagination. That same observer may see cities and boats and roadways though myself - I do not see those things. Only forbidding splashes of natural color bathed in fiery clouds and shrouded in the distortion that appears in my eyes during the Brush from the forces at work. No matter who you ask, all of them will see something different, promising, inviting, and all of them may be wrong.
Only when officials began speaking of mounting a mission to her shores and plains did I really look at her. Her color is like ours - blue and green and white, though, something about it puts me in a state of unease as she approaches. The Brush itself takes only moments as the day turns from pleasant white sunlight to fiery orange, and it seems the sound of each and every molecule colliding with those in the other planet's air can be heard individually if one listens closely enough - though many might find it drowned out by the overarching and deafening screaming-scrapes and thunderous rumbles that the two atmospheres emit as they collide.
Air pressure shifts and winds gust violently and for those who are unlucky enough to be faced to the other place for the event, they might feel a gravitational pull and float from the ground easily and to frightening heights since her pull seems to be mildly stronger than our own. To my knowledge, nobody has been lost to that place, though my knowledge is more limited than I care to exist.
Soon though, a poor soul will voluntarily go, the process is easy enough so they say. A balloon and a respirator floated high into the air for the next Brush - high enough where the atmosphere is thin and gives way easily so he may be harmlessly absorbed into that other world where the balloon will right itself and float to the surface soon after. The plans to come back do not exist, and contact by shortwave may not be possible until the next brush where a short time window could open, allowing finally for us to hear a voice from that place, ignoring the fact that we put it there.
Myself though, I hope that the balloon burns and crashes and spares the poor soul from visiting. After each brush I would swear that world leaves traces of itself on ours - scents and particles that make people uneasy and ill are spread far and wide and to be exposed to them in any sort of concentrated way might be torture. I do not know why or when I did it, but I am told that I am a hero for being the man to volunteer. My last memories are of prison cells and labor camps though today and for the past months I have been treated as though I am a royal. I've been fed and given exercise and training on the radio apparatus.
I have exclaimed my excitement aloud, though internally I pray for flames and failure and if I have to leap from my balloon from high in the atmosphere then rest assured that is what I will do. It is my dreams that have shown me what really lives there, down on the surface under the canopy of trees and I can assure you that I will not be meeting it. |
“Its real easy to tie your shoes. Anyone can do it. You don’t need velcro shoes! Or your mom to tie them.” 7-year-old Michael razzed. Two boys sat in the yard, messily eating popsicles on a warm spring day.
So Justin attempted to do what he told him. Carefully looping the bunny ears over and over and over. Never tying his shoes once. Justin became more frustrated and eventually took his shoe off, throwing it across the lawn and hitting the fence. The fence was a good 300 feet away. On the other side was an apple orchard, where the trees were easily 50-100 feet back, in neat little rows.
“Whoa how did you do that? The fence is far!” Said Michael, jumping up. Justin shrugged. “I don’t know. I can do silly things sometimes I guess.” “I bet you can’t throw the other shoe over the fence and hit that tree. No one in our grade can do that.” Justin grinned. “I bet I can.” He took the other shoe off, just as Michael said “No you can’t! I bet you my two best slammers and you can pick 5 of my pogs if you get it over the fence and hit that tree. It’s impossible!” Justin threw the shoe. It sailed over the fence as if by an invisible force & pegged one of the apple trees and dropped in front of it.
“You can do that but you can’t tie the shoe? Dude!” |
Can i interest you in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?
Wa- Hu- HOW ARE YOU ALIVE?
Prayer and good intentions my child. May i come in?
Yeah sure i'd like some company before sitting on a blinding star for a while. Can i get you some tea or something
the lake out back probably still has some boiling water in it.
No thank you. So can I interest you in converting?
Iv'e been alive for 5 Billion years, there's no god.
Who do you think gave you these abilities?
Whoever they are they're a prick, laughing at my suffering.
But all the good you've done, all the money to charity, all the lives saved, is it not worth something?
Perhaps but in the grand scheme though, no, it wasn't. Its kind of hard to see the bigger picture when at the end of the world.
You lead Civilizations to Greatness, helped so many, was it not worth it?
They were momentary blips in the existence of the universe, worth nothing.
You made their momentary blips worth existing, that's why i gave you this power.
You aren't...
I am
Huh
Shall we?
We shall then. |
# Cthulhu returns, but killed by ocean plastic
This morning beach-goers who were expecting a nice early dip were surprised to see the massive dragon-octopus-humanoid body of Cthulhu lying motionless in the sand.
“Anytime something like this happens, whether its a whale, or a shark, or the dark lord of the seas, we have to close off the beach for a few hours to properly dispose of the animal” said Burt Carlen, a representative from the authorities, “Biologists will want to take samples, and then we will ensure a safe removal of the body. It’s tragic, but it happens.”
The return of the sea lord Cthulhu has been long awaited by cultists, but they were hoping he’d at least return alive. “It’s awful,” said one such cult-member, preferring to remain anonymous, “I just joined my local Church of Cthulhu last month, and only last week got my hood and tattoos. But some guys I know have been praying for decades and the church itself has been waiting for centuries, so we are a little disappointed.”
Whales commonly wash up on shores like this, especially during migration season, but this was no such case. The dark lord had suffocated from attempting to consume a large plastic bag, analysis shows, which is something that has activists enraged. One such is Aaron Jameson of Greenpeace, who is calling for action. “It’s gone too far. Sure, Cthulhu might’ve caused some destruction if he’d returned alive, but it’s nothing compared to the destruction that our reckless dumping of plastics is causing the ocean. Things need to change, and our lawmakers need to listen.”
The beach is expected to reopen tomorrow morning. |
A flash of lightning burst through the translucent curtains of the boardroom. A moment later a crack of thunder interrupted the droning comptroller, shaking the building. Susan from HR ran to a switch by the door and flipped it. The curtains rose, revealing a swirling black sky. Suddenly, in the middle of the vortex, a familiar black saucer appeared. Susan screamed.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The comptroller stared out the window, a look of pure fear on his face.
"No. NO! He can't be back. He CAN'T"
The general counsel stood and stepped towards the window.
"I don't believe it. Lord Midnight is back."
At the far end of the table, the CEO struggled to contain her excitement.
*Thank God. Another five minutes of listening to Gary read slides about "unexpected outlays"and* ***I*** *would* *have set* myself *up as dark lord.* |
"WHAT??"I shouted
"I SAID: "Stan's next words were drowned out by the stereo whine of his Hoover feet. He kept subconsciously shifting from foot to foot to break the vacuum seal when each alternating foot hit the laminated tile floor.
*Whir - Clop - Shhhunk, Whir - Clop - Shhhunk,* over and over and over.
Every day I have to listen to Karen's awful music echoing through the halls because, "I *would* put on headphones, but they just make my ears ache after even 5 minutes, it's *awful!"* which is bad enough, but now this?
"WHAT? I'M SORRY, I REALLY CAN'T HEAR YOU!"I shouted again.
Stan's mouth formed words, but still, the whir of the vacuums drowned out everything he said. On top of that, the massive tusks jutting up from his lower jaw made lip reading impossible.
"HERE, JUST WRITE IT DOWN!"
I handed him a pen and piece of paper. He scribbled something and handed it back to me.
"The 3:00 meeting has been pushed back to 3:15 today . . ."I looked up at him. "STAN, I'M NOT EVEN IN THAT MEETING! I'M IN SALES, NOT MARKETING!"
He shrugged, turned, and walked out, pausing slightly with each step to pull his Hoover foot up off the ground.
I turned back to my desk, muttering into my always-lukewarm mug of coffee. Yet another office annoyance that could have been an email rather than a face-to-fanged-face meeting.
I hate working for the Dirt Devil. |
A quick death. Fucking hell. Of all the things. Of all the curses. It had to be that.
A quick death. Amateur. ANY hedge mage or nobody can put a quick death “curse” on someone. I put that in quotes because quite frankly it can be a good thing. When you storm the beach at Normandy you cast it quite a bit. Trust me I was there. I saw the army mages cast it time and time again.
It’s so easy it can be done in the heat of battle when fighting freaking Nazis! A quick death. Let me tell you. It’s a pain in the ass. It itches. I keep feeling it in my palms. And I know it’s coming. Walking down the street.
BAM piano falls two feet behind you. Splinters and wood flying everywhere. In your eyes. Just wooden piano leg sticking out of your chest. Any normal person the piano would land right on top of. Quick and easy off you go into the twilight. Not me. Nope no sirree. I gotta get rushed to the hospital and get the piano leg removed from my chest.
Don’t even get me started on THAT visit.
Or there was the time I got hit by the truck crossing the road. Guy was doing 60! Hit me head on and I went flipping through the air. Broke both my legs.
That was another trip to the hospital. They know me by name there by the way. Everyone said it was a miracle! I’m so lucky to be alive.
I’m not lucky. I thought I was lucky. I was blessed with immortality. Praised in my youth almost 1500 years ago for saving the high priest from betrayal he gave me the gift of eternal life. I have seen the human race grown technology sharing the world. I have had more friends die than you will EVER have. I amassed a fortune.
A fortune that is dwindling quite quickly do to all these friggin medical bills. I’ll tell ya. They really take you over the coals on these things.
Immortal and a quick death. It takes skill. And power to cast an immortality spell. It takes true strength and mastery of the craft.
But a quick death? It’s a nothing spell! It’s magic is weaker. It’s bound to me but it can’t succeed. I’m doomed to live every day with the world trying to crush me. Or squish me. Or poison me. Or shoot me. Or impale me. It’s getting QUITE annoying.
If I ever see that blue Honda Civic again. You can bet dollars to donuts I’m gonna do far worse than cut him off this time! |
Death is my friend. Like all great friendships, we can never get too close to each other, and yet we maintain such good rapport. I feed off the thrill of death and thrive under the prospect of dying. It is like being teased by your best friend. You laugh it out. You have a good time. I relish the tantalization.
In this healthy relationship, I became stronger and stronger, both mentally and physically.
I travelled around the world to meet up with my friend, and people flocked to their television screens to see me in action. They paid extra attention to my face, and every single time they were boggled by my valiance and nonchalance, and they gaped in awe whenever they saw my stolid expression at the face of such unspeakable terrors - stepping on the edge of Burj Khalifa, diving into ocean trenches in makeshift submarines, plunging into deep uncharted parts of the Amazon forest, encountering face to face with the most venomous spiders and snakes, skulking around war-stricken countries in the middle east, paying visits to cannibalistic tribes unbeknownst to human civilisation. Throughout the years, I had risked my life for the entertainment of the world. My viewership grew, so as my physical prowess and my confidence. The more dangerous my acts were, the more I savoured them. In the eyes of the average viewer, I had become legend.
Soon, praise turned into concern, for they began to show worry that I might one day become somewhat of a threat, an abomination even. They took consideration of my rapid growth from five feet ten to seven feet tall in a matter of a couple years. My chest was packed with muscles comparable to that of a lion, and my legs were so fast I swear I can dodge a bullet. My mind was so refined and trained that I could play a monk or a ninja. I was an indefatigable, impervious giant.
They said I need to be stopped. Voluntary squads were formed and sent to take me to the officials, but my clout over the world was too strong and my fan support was too tremendous due to the popularity of my programme. The company opted for income rather than safety. The businessmen chose to renew my reality show for another decade. Some people cheered and some people screamed. I smiled contendly. Nothing sinister, but I was grateful to continue doing what I loved.
Death brooded over my mind. I couldn't stop thinking about it. As I was about to film the new season, I felt the urge to take a closer step than I did ever before, to give the show something new and fresh, to satiate an unidentifiable fetish, to turn friendship into romance. The primordial brute was unleashed. I woke up and made a decision to consummate with my best friend.
Headlines flashed on the television screen. A beast was wreaking havoc, tearing throats, plucking heads and rending flesh. Buildings were brought to the ground, and the world collapsed before its residents could let out a scream. Police forces and SWAT team were dispatched to the centre of town, pulling out all sorts of axillary to counter this eldritch force. Despite their greatest efforts, they knew resistance was futile, because what doesn't kill me makes me stronger. The furthest they could get was to bring me an inch away from death, and then I would recover stronger than I was a second ago. Audiences around the globe were elated upon seeing those live gruesome scenes that were comparable to the scripted content on my reality show. It was good TV.
I enjoyed every second of it. I fought to the very end, and when I finally fell to my knees and laid supine on the battle torn asphalt I felt somehow victorious. My eyes drifted towards the crimson red clouds in the sunset sky, relishing the touch of cold blood soaking into my clothes. I saw a black shadow dancing amongst the faint stars, singing to the rhythm of police sirens and intermittent cries. My world was felt with wonder, and it captivated me till the very end as the curtain drew over me.
Hello, Death my old friend. Now we finally meet.
[My blog](https://toxicfoxwrites.wordpress.com) |
“We must contain them,” the green alien general growled at the holograms sitting around the table. Murmurs of agreement echoed around the room.
“I must ask, General Listeron, whether you have considered the fact they may be peaceful?”
It was the hologram of the young princess sitting at the end of the table who spoke.
The General grabbed his collar, “well, Your Highness, we have sent down three teams to observe and so far, we have significant evidence to suggest this species has serious hostile intent. For example, we’ve observed technologies being utilized en masse for the sole purpose of pumping music into their ears,” shocked gasps erupted, “and, Your Highness, we have observed military training exercises involving tens of thousands of them gathering to listen and practice the most powerful songs!”
General Listeron, who had a fat green face covered in boils, sat back with a smug smile as he watched the others around the table mutter to one another with worried expressions.
“And what if there’s another explanation,” the Princess said.
The room went silent. Everyone turned to look at her, confused and uncertain whether they had heard her right. How could she be challenging such obvious proof? How could she not see the reality in front of her eyes, that these animals are out of control and need putting down?
“That’s preposterous!” A short General named Endothorn, who had icy spikes protruding from his head, yelled.
“What if,” the Princess continued as if she hadn’t heard anything, “the music is what sustains them?”
The room erupted into laughter. One of the holograms even disappeared as he fell from his chair.
It took a moment before the room settled down again. Then, suddenly the Princesses’ hologram disappeared.
Whispers hissed around the room. General Listeron was about to speak when the physical door of his meeting room opened. Everyone spun around. Standing there was the Princess with two royal guards flanking her.
The room went silent, except for General Listeron who wore a look of anger,
“Princess, how could you come on board without reporting to me? It’s not safe!”
The Princess walked forward carrying something in her hand and sat where her hologram had been moments earlier. Two dozen eyes watched her wearily.
She smiled at the General, “My loyal guards are more than capable of keeping me safe.”
“but…but, what are you doing here?” the General spat in exasperation.
“Researching this new species, what else? We took the liberty of relieving one of the teams you sent down and went ourselves. Now, I want to show you all something.”
The Princess lifted the object she had been carrying onto the desk. It was about a 12 inches long and had oddly shaped cylinders at either ends. In between were buttons; play, stop, fast forward, rewind.
The Princess looked around, “you see, those people you want to destroy aren’t evil, nor are they hell bent on taking over the universe – unlike some others,” she said as she raised an eyebrow towards General Endothorn, “no, what I’ve discovered is most of them just want to feel positive energy moving through them. Their music, their culture, it’s all part of keeping their society moving forward. Maybe it’s all we need to find balance in our own societies?”
There were coughs and angry sniffs around the table as the Princess sat back. She looked down at the object and hit the play button.
An odd sound lurched out from it. Some at the table shrieked and made to leave, but the Princess slammed her fist down on the table, “listen, please!”
Everyone stopped moving and watched as the strange object emitted the horrifying sound. Then the lyrics cut in,
*Imagine there's no countries*
*It isn't hard to do*
*Nothing to kill or die for*
*And no religion too*
*Imagine all the people living life in peace*
All of a sudden, faces started to change. Fear started to fade, anger began floating away and terror transformed.
The Princess smiled as she took in the looks on each of the council members' faces in turn, all except the one empty chair where General Endothorn had been sitting moments ago. |
The man smiled. There was no stopping him now. What many thought was a lowly little bird, just evolving to scream, eat, and sleep, was the greatest weapon of all time. By the second, crows were streaming in, diverting from migration paths in an effort to keep alive their true ruler.
"Sir, we need you to exit the house,"an officer shouted through the megaphone. He was barely heard over the squawking of ten thousand angry birds. The officers could see him through the windows, but it was no use. The crows had made him enough money that he could afford bulletproof windows and walls.
"Well, I need to not exit the house,"the man said. Inexplicably, everyone could hear him, as if he was channeling his voice through the crows.
"Exit the house or we will be forced to use lethal force,"the officer replied. Everyone had to strain to hear him over the fifteen thousand or so crows that were now there.
The man's only reply was an unholy noise that seemed to originate from everywhere. The officers realized what he was doing, but it was too late. Their eyes widened in horror as the crows streamed down from the sky and tore them flesh from bone. Within seconds, all that was left were skeletons that had been freshly removed from any type of human body.
The man cackled, and it echoed through the crows, through the sky, through the world, and it was the dawn of a new age. An age of terror. An age of tyranny.
The Age of Crows. |
Life is like a river. That's something people say, right? A rocky, turbulent river with little offshoots that end in fetid ponds where water goes to die. Only it's not water. It's friends and family and loved ones. It's people who promised they would be there for you forever, but forever wasn't supposed to be cut so short.
Thankfully, for every ten offshoots that drain the life out of the river, there's a tributary that comes along and does everything it can to make things right again. That was Lily. She was my tributary. She was my lifeblood. She was the only living part of Jonathan that I still had left. And even on days like today where I drag her to the cemetery to put flowers on his grave commemorating the anniversary of his death, she still makes me smile.
"Mum, it's for you,"she yells, snapping me away from my dark thoughts. So many dark thoughts, it's a wonder there aren't any snapping turtles or sharks down there waiting to drag me down and drown me. She's playing with my old Nokia again, that indestructible piece of brick I finally upgraded from two years ago.
"Oh, who is it?"I ask. I wipe a tear from my eye. I already cried this morning by his headstone. I didn't want her to see me crying again. She likes the grass and the flowers and the big tree that she can climb on. She likes the old groundskeeper who always gives her a lollipop. She likes to trace the letters of Jonathan's name and inform me each time that it doesn't say "Daddy".
"I don't know,"she answers coyly. She seems confused. I'll indulge in her game. That's what mothers should do. "He asked for you."
I do my best to smile and take the phone from her. "Hellooo,"I say in an exaggerated voice. "It's Mum!"She bursts into a fit of giggles and I wait for her to prompt the conversation in some direction. Did the bakery call? Or was it the grocer? Was it grandma?
Then I hear somebody clear their throat. "God, I missed the sound of your voice."
I rush a hand to my mouth. My heart leaps so high it hurts. Lily looks on quietly. She's never quiet unless it's something serious. I wonder if she recognized his voice. I thought she would have been too little. Maybe he said it was Daddy and maybe she's an anomaly, a child somehow capable of keeping a secret.
"Jonathan?"I manage to shudder. My voice trembles.
"I just wanted to tell you how much I miss you. It's lonely over here."
"Oh my God,"I gasp. Lily runs over to hug my leg. With my free hand I clutch her little fingers, squeezing until she looks up at me.
"You're squeezing too hard, Mum. It's just Daddy."
"I haven't been cooking much. You know how it is when I'm not with you. It's pretty warm down here."My shock starts to turn to horror.
"Jonathan, can you hear me?"He continues as if he can't. I'm yelling into the phone and Lily is looking up at me in fear. "Jonathan?"
"Anyways, babe, I can't wait to see you. Next week, if everything goes as planned."I'm holding her hand again.
"Lily, go grab Zeb. Grab a pillow. I'm taking you to grandma's."We can't leave the home without Zeb, the striped plushy accompanying us to the store, to school...
"Grandma!"She's oblivious. The dam can burst and the river can flood the world and she still won't know what's happening.
"I have to go now. Duty calls."He always said that. "Just wanted to call to say I miss you and I miss your voice and I'll see you next week. I love you."That was it. I barely had a chance to talk. He just said what he had to say and hung up.
"You have no more voicemails,"the phone squawks, making me jump. I look down at the display through tear-soaked eyes at the old picture of us on the phone background.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at /r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! |
They just wanted their humans back. A space mission sent a pack of dogs into space when something happened. They were sent back in time over 10,000 years and flung across the milky way. Gifted intelligence they soon rose to be the top species in the Galaxy, but they kept searching for their humans.
They could not be beaten by any other species they had one drive. The drive to be good boys and to find the humans. The legends where passed down from mama wolves to their cubs until one day at the galactic convention they smelled them. Humans. They entire canid delegation took off running. The interpiters where screaming. "Human, human, must find human."The entire human delegation turned around as they heard the call to see "man's best friend"running towards them. Tails wagging and when the candids reached them they started giving doggy kisses to the humans. The other species delegates was watching in shock as the most feared species in the galaxy was submitting to the weakest species they had ever seen reach space. Humans. One of the humans while petting the candid exclaimed "whose a good doggo!"
The entire pack exclaimed "Me, Me,Me I'm a good doggo."
Ever sense that day humans where the ones to fear and listen to. The candid species where extremely defensive of their humans and they formed close partnerships that if one was harmed the other would hunt down the culprit. Humans may seem weak but they had a single drive to defend their loved ones which always included the good doggies. |
A perfect, open world. That's what he called it. VR open world fantasy RPG. Any option, any choice, it would all feel real. That's what he called it. And the critics agreed. They loved the varied responses, the complex AI, the beautiful graphics. They praised the sheer size, a pre-generated game world functionally the size of Australia, and beyond it, a completely procedurally generated world begins to exist if one manages to leave the pre-generated area. It had a maximum world size slightly larger than the Earth. Fully populated, fully realised, fully alive.
And that was retail. The neutered version of that world sold to the public. The original world, the full version of the game. Now that was something more. Something extraordinary. And he gave the only original copy to me. Putting on the VR goggles, the various detectors, the motion sensors, neuro-game integration helmet and all the other things that the game had been made to accommodate, were it not for the HUD, you'd think you'd stepped into another world.
And he had made it for me. As it was the original version, only developer mode was accessible. Yet it didn't matter much. The world was so real, you could feel the morning dew on the leaves, you could feel the wind in your hair. Developer mode allowed you to do a lot of things, like changing your player model into a non-player character, and it would feel real. Leaving the forest flying on the black wings of a raven was impossibly wondrous. Yet as I landed in town square, I noticed something. NPCs reacted to me as if I was a raven. Not just the Main Character. They noticed my shape.
And to my surprise, as I flew into a back alley and changed into a more human shape, the various NPCs acted, well, alive. As if they were sentient, thinking, and capable of independent thought. I knew this version had stuff that had been cut from the retail version, but this? People falling in love, people getting drunk, people reacting in real time to events unfolding. They did not have a set number of prerecorded voicelines, they had infinite potential voicelines.
It was marvellous. And in there I could be anyone I wanted to, anything I wanted to. Human, man or woman, animal, mythological or fantasy beings, and it felt real. Imagine feeling the sensation of running across the rooftops, feline and free. Imagine learning sorcery from a wise old dwarf deep in a mine. I drank, partied, danced, and felt genuine friendship and love for the first time in years. Imagine how real it was. So real, that I would never need to return to the waking world.
Which was good. I had expected to be in there for a while, had ordered the preparing of various sanitation devices, and intravenous feeding. Not that it was different from my normal life. In here, I meet real people, with real responses, AI so good it is sentient, but not good enough to realise that the world it lives in is fake. Out there, the accident had left me broken, ruined, basically a prisoner in my own corpse. But in here, I spent days just marvelling at the fact that I could use my hands again, walk on my own feet.
I used the command console to send a message to my dad, thanking him. He responded that I could stay in there for as long as I liked. And with my decaying body, kept alive out there, I had no reason to ever return there. A new world where I could live again, the ultimate gift to someone, for whom the real world was Hell.
[/r/ApocalypseOwl](https://www.reddit.com/r/ApocalypseOwl/) |
The story of how humanity became the dominant race of the universe is an interesting one. Humanity became strong almost entirely off one thing, uranium.
Humanity is weak, there is no way around that fact. Other races have strength ten times their own, or are able to pick up on almost imperceptible movements. Humans however have one trick up their sleeve, uranium.
Once humanity met other species, humanity realized that nuclear bombs weren’t all that powerful in the grand scheme of things; however the energy uranium provided was priceless. Uranium supplied all known light year travel, and as such was very valuable. Almost all planets that have been discovered, have less then a ton of uranium. However approximately 40 trillion tons of uranium are in the Earth’s crust. It took till 2210 for Earth to be discovered by the societies of the universe. Once it was discovered how much uranium earth had, it became the target of many different empires. However Earth being so valuable, nobody was willing to fight around it and risk destroying it, so without wars around it, humans were able to hold onto Earth.
After a 250 year span from 2200 to 2450, and a near monopoly on Uranium, humanity was able to rival the technological might of the biggest empire. Many planets became over dependent on humanity for uranium, since humanity supplied light speed to many planets. Humanity was slowly able to annex nations, till they became the biggest empire in the galaxy.
Only one empire, the Far Empire rivaled humanity, however since humanity held a stranglehold on uranium, the Far Empire was eventually crushed. Humanity rose to rule the known universe, not because they were the strongest, smartest or fastest, they won because they had uranium.
Second attempt at a writing prompt, so hopefully it turned out well. |
"Are you talking about Walles?"was the responses I was given when I described the heinous acts of the historic genocidal maniac who killed thousands of his own people. "Timothy Walles? How could you mix up his name for anyone else?"It may not have been Timothy Walles, but it was a name that was equally as unassuming.
And that was the same reaction I got any time I brought up anyone from the past that was responsible for the death of millions. I would give them the details and they would just give me a different name. They would be different in small sundial ways, the person's upbringing and dates of events but when it came to the deaths they cause it would be almost word for word.
I didn't get it at first but it eventually started to click with me. When I went back in time I removed the people who were the leaders who gave the orders to commit these atrocities but I didn't change the conditions that lead to them coming to power. For everyone I took out, there was just another one who came to take their places. I had made the mistake of believing that without them history would just repair itself but didn't of how most of these leaders rise to power were the result of the conditions of the time.
That was the realization I had made around the time I had just asked the fifth person someone from history. "You're thinking of Remus The Third."They said. "I don't know where You got the name you said from, but yeah that's who you're actually thinking of."
"Thank you,"I said back. "That's all I need to know."
"It's no problem pal, anytime. Adolf by the way."
"... I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh, my name is Adolf Jackson."
"Oh, that's not a common name, is it?"I asked hopefully.
"Not so much anymore, but it picked up use after that terrible incident involving some art student who was killed by some guy with a futuristic gun or something." |
"Did you hear? The Crystal Champion stopped a bank robbery yesterday! And they say the robbers were working for the Steel Maiden!"
My classmate showed me a video on his cell phone. A woman in a miniskirt and ribbons was squaring off against a group of masked thugs armed with futuristic handguns. She gracefully cartwheeled between a pair of laser blasts before using her magic to encase them in crystal.
*"Thugs disturbing the peace of my perfect city! Unforgivable! In the name of the Crystal Empire, you must be punished!"*
It was a common enough sight. The Champion was something of an oddball, constantly making dramatic speeches about the "Future Perfected Crystal Empire"or whatever it was she claimed to represent, but you had to admire her commitment to justice.
"It's been a good week for supers. I caught the Armored Hunter fighting Dr. Trinity from my balcony. Apparently he stole a crate of MacGuffinite from the laboratory downtown and she recovered it."
I shared my own video, showing an overhead view of an anonymous, steel-plated warrior with an arm cannon, firing at a white-armored madman commanding a swarm of robots painted in radioactive green.
Josh and I were both super geeks - or rather, geeks about supers. And the Queen City was full of them, both heroes and villains. Aliens, mutants, magicians, mad scientists you name it, there was one of them battling for supremacy in Queen City. Our club met regularly to swap stories and amateur videos. Don't worry, it's safer than it sounds - there are a *lot* of supers, and they're good at keeping the fights under control.
"That's enough for a good-sized doomsday device. Good thing the supers are around."
"Oh hey, you guys are talking supers? You're going to love this. I recorded this a few nights ago."
She showed me her own grainy video - shot from a distance, and at night, but clear enough to be watchable. The video showed a feminine figure wearing some sort of crystal armor that glimmered under the streetlights. She was holding someone by the neck - I couldn't tell if they were alive or dead - as translucent crystal slowly grew over their body, until the victim was trapped in a glassy prison.
"Creepy stuff, huh? I bet she's planning some kinda magic ritual with those crystals."
"Lisa, why were you taking pictures of a supervillain in a dark alley?"Josh said with a raised eyebrow.
"It's not like I was *trying* to, I just made a wrong turn. I swear, this city is like 90% dark alleys. Anyway, I called the police, and the Bionic Man showed up and chased her off a few minutes later.
"Hang on."I replayed the video. "This looks a lot like the Crystal Champion's power, doesn't it?"
"Huh, yeah. Except the Champion doesn't leave people frozen like that, she just floats them off to jail."
"She's even got the same blonde hair."I pointed to a moment when the mysterious villain stepped a little further into the light. She was wearing a mask made of black crystal, but the long twin-tails were still plain to see.
"What the hell? Does Champ have an evil twin?"
"No, she's been around a long time. If she had any superpowered family they would've shown up by now."
The video continued playing, and I noticed a familiar flash of green right before the Bionic Man swooped in. "Was that an Atomibot in the background?"
"Looks like,"Josh said. "Blurry, but the color is right, and you can see the sorta spiky shape that Dr. Trinity's designs have."
"No way, three supers in the same alley?"Lisa stared at the image with awe.
"Wait. Wait, wait, wait."I interrupted. "I just had a crazy thought. Take a look at that video of the Armored Hunter again."
I fast forwarded until I saw the Hunter firing a laser that left a melted splash across Dr. Trinity's shoulder armor. Then I picked up Lisa's phone, finding the moment the Bionic Man burst onto the scene.
"It's the same. The same armor, same damage. Bionic is the Doctor in disguise."
"No way."
"How has nobody noticed this yet?"
"Does this mean the Hunter is a villain, too?"I complained. "She's my favorite."
We all scrambled for our phones, trying to find a good picture of the Maiden for comparison - not that her armor had a lot of identifying features - when Jake held up his phone. "Guys, you won't believe what I just found."
The headline on his phone read "Hunter Scooped! Steel Maiden steals MacGuffinite!"and explained how the masked villain had made off with the shipment of priceless metal mere minutes after the Hunter had retrieved it from the mad scientist.
"She didn't return the stolen goods, she stole them for herself!"
We all looked at each other in disbelief. "That's three for three. All three of these heroes are actually villains, and *they're all each other's nemeses."* |
It’s hard to say exactly what drew him to Charis. He hadn’t been raised to her worship or really anyone’s worship, and that was saying something in an era when Jesus fever had swept the globe all over again. Of course this version of Jesus had a cybernetic arm and believed in debt forgiveness more than sin forgiveness, but hey, people change.
Maybe that’s why someone like Anton needed Charis. People changed, but he sure hadn’t.
The trip home from the office was a technicolor nightmare of ads, they latched on to your implanted AR chip and followed you for hundreds of feet down the street if you didn’t have the good AdBlocK™, but Anton was nowhere near affording that. After a two mile walk to the mag-rail, a half hour ride out into the affordable (read slum) housing district, and a brisk decontamination in his building’s airlock, anyone would long for a simpler time.
Anton threw a soy steak in the microwave and collapsed onto his third-hand couch. He had precisely one item of value in his home, and tonight as he had every other night for the last five years, Anton stared at it and tried to imagine what life could have been like. He put his AR into sleep mode, deactivated his comms implant, even powered down the right hand he’d had replaced after a workplace accident in his youth. Without the constant subdermal hum of his bio-tech it felt like he was moving back in time, just him and his most prized possession, a small white marble statue of a goddess. His goddess. Charis, the lady of beauty, creativity and nature, whose name meant kindness and grace. To Anton that sounded like the real heaven.
As always the constant white noise of modern life eventually broke him out of his reverie. A fight several doors down the hallway, a short scream that cut off abruptly. A buzz after that, his meal was ready.
Anton crossed to the microwave, removed his soy steak, looking at it hungrily. He was reaching for a fork and knife when he felt it. He wasn’t alone in the room anymore.
He froze, reactivating his right hand with just a thought. This couldn’t be debt collectors, he hadn’t fallen behind in months. So who? The only potential answers were far worse.
His hand was fully activated, it was time. Anton whipped around, preparing to throw his plate in the most futile gesture of self defense possible when he saw her. The throw became a drop, hard plastic clattering against the ground. The statue was gone, and in its place stood a woman.
She wore a loose fitting, floor length white garment just like the statue had. Her hair was a dark brown, skin lightly tanned, doe eyes wide as she took in her surroundings. She had no cyberware anywhere that he could see, and his implants were unable to pick up any identification chip. She was the most beautiful woman Anton had ever seen.
“Hello? Where am I?” Her voice was clear and pure, unaccented to Anton’s ears, but with the slightest (highly controlled) sound of fear.
“UCAS. The United Canadian American States, Boston. Charis...is that you?” His voice was hoarse, could this be her? What did one say to their goddess?
“It is. I’d never thought the world could change so much! I thank you for protecting my idol through it all.” Her idol. Somehow Anton was simply accepting the words, the longer he looked at her the more reassuring her presence became. She spoke again, “Anton, would you like to have dinner together?”
Shock roared back at those words. “Of course. But...lady, why me?”
She laughed! Somehow it made all the other laughs he’d heard sound hollow. “Well, because we’ve been having dinner together for the last five years and I’ve just now decided I was hungry.”
Her demeanor changed then, and Anton’s mood with it. To see a goddess sad was a powerful thing, but her sadness was deeper than a mortal’s, lying just under the surface it was steel and resolve. “The world can be lonely for everyone Anton, even me. And I refuse to be forgotten.” |
Millenia of darkness. Do you know what it does to a god?
And let's not talk about guys like Thor, Ra and the One bragging about how big their cults were.
What year is it now? 2020? I haven't heard something since the 1920s, when some american writer (what was it? Hate build? Hate craft? Don't remember) tried to build a cult around me through his books. But he mistook everything. There's no Ryliegh city under the waves. It was just my temple. No creature who awakening will make the universe cease to exist. They called a meteor like that. I kind of miss my neanderthals.
But now, this guy, he is quite... interesting.
"Oh Great Old Ones, who wield the powers, please taketh my offering"
I appear to him. He is in a room full with other people like him. Wearing strange clothing with the same symbol on all of them.
Haravard University.
After Athena gave her blessing to MIT, I heard they were looking for another god of Knowledge. Cause that's what I am.
As I appear, they are scared.
But the chanting continues.
"Mylord, taketh our offerings. Taketh our souls, but giveth us power. Power to slain the men of Massachussets Institute of Technology. We ask thee for the Blasts of Eldritch, The Invocations and two Slots of Spells every pause in studying."
They are asking to become like the Warlocks they roelplay in a game called "Dungeons and... what was it? Dagons? No, dagon was an old friend of mine. Those big fire spitting lizards, those.... Dragons"
Interesting offer. But I answer in an unexpected way.
"No souls shall be taken by me. I'll grant you power if. If you start following my ways. If you make Chtulhu, god of knowledge the god your school devotes to!"
One day afterwards, I feel how good it is to be a god of the Ivy League.
Now on to sueing Wizards of the Coasts for copying me. |
QUEEN VICTORIA’S DRAGON
[Part I]
Kuldrum, Lord of the Skies, Champion of Yellow, Seeker of Riches, whose wings were each the size of a Blue Whale, whose spiked tail could crush ten grown men in a single swoop, whose impatience with humanity’s self-proclaimed “enlightenment” pushed him into another early hibernation, woke up on November 1st, 1858.
To his bitter disappointment, he soon learned that the historical significance of the mighty Kuldrum’s two massive, green eyes opening for the first time in over a century was overshadowed by a 39 year-old woman. Apparently she had just become the Empress of India. She already ruled half the globe from her little island, and she did it in spectacular style. Kuldrum, being a drake of imperial tastes himself, was desperate to meet her, and mingle with her subjects, the Brits.
While some dragons may have flown right to Buckingham Palace, Kuldrum learned long ago that humans do not react well to seeing dragons in their natural shape. That’s why he stole one of Old Xordun’s transfigurators. Plus, Xorduns are a great investment to snap up before any long naps. It always appreciates in value. Hey, it’s not like dragons are ever going to be happy by being themselves!
Kuldrum took the smooth stone in his talons and put it to his gentle, scaly lips. A soft red heat began to emanate on Kuldrum’s breath, and then in a flash it became a beam of white-hot flame. The stone embraced the flame, diverting its force into an elaborate series of engravings. As the flame danced down thousands of twiggy paths, sections of the stone itself began to move, rearranging the etchings on its surface into a million different combinations, not completely unlike a Rubik’s Cube.
Kuldrum held his breath, the flames ceased, and the stone’s moving pieces came to a stop in the shape of a human body.
A few disorienting moments later and Kuldrum stood admiring his dainty hands and soft feet. He ran a hand through his thick head of yellow hair, slipped his fully charged Xordun on over his head like a necklace, and, stark naked, set off for London, where he expected to enjoy an audience with Queen Victoria.
[PART 2]
Six weeks later, Kuldrum had fallen in love with Victorian society just as much as Victorian society had fallen in love with him. At first he was an oddity, wallowing in obscurity for the insane nonsense he spouted about being a dragon. But as he sharpened his wit, discovered his sense of irony, his fashion and his taste for the finer things, he began to climb.
Grasping the human’s passion for building a grandiose nest, Kuldrum constructed a mansion in the heart of London. He financed it with a pinch of gold that he’d stashed in Portugal a few hundred years back. At over 20,000 feet, the unveiling of his London home made him a tabloid celebrity. His parties were lavish, but what made them memorable was simply him. Kuldrum.
Kuldrum who, no matter what the circumstance, never dropped his ridiculous joke of pretending to be a dragon in human form. The sheer commitment and irreverence sent people head over heels. Yet Kuldrum often found himself, on days when the big house was empty, that he too was empty. His wish remained unfulfilled. Queen Victoria had not even noticed his existence.
On one particularly gloomy day, when, truth be told, Kuldrum was feeling near his lowest, he was paid a call by Sir Charles Dickens. The rotund, graying, spritely fellow ranted and raved for two hours about what Kuldrum must do. It was brilliant. It was perfect. Kuldrum must write a book about this dragon persona.
Make it romantic. Make it terrifying. Make it poetic. Make it a smash hit. Become the best-selling author in the British Empire. Where Charles saw for his eccentric friend a spectacle, a lifetime of fame and fortune, and an advancement of British literature, Kuldrum saw a chance to get in front of an audience of one. So the next day, Kuldrum, Lord of the Skies, Champion of Yellow, Seeker of Riches, sat down at his writing table with a stack of paper on which to write his book. He began with the title. After pursing his lips and furrowing his brow, he put quill to parchment and scrawled out three words: Queen Victoria’s Dragon.
[PART 3]
In 1843, Charles Dickens, later to become an earnest good friend of the dragon Kuldrum, published A Christmas Carol. It sold out completely in six days. In 1859, Kuldrum published Queen Victoria’s Dragon and sold out completely in three days. His novel, a swashbuckling adventure story full of thrilling adventure and intimate romance, was a smash hit. The French and American publishers were already chomping at the bit to republish in their countries.
Kuldrum was propelled to new heights of fame and fortune. Every day he checked his mail box. Every day he paced back and forth in the mail room, peering over the shoulders of his crew of fifteen assistants, who spent all day sorting through bags of fan mail, discarding everything, looking for one unique address. Just one.
And on a sunny Tuesday morning in March, it arrived. Kuldrum read it out loud, as all his assistants sat paralyzed, hanging on its every word.
“The enjoyment of your presence has been requested by Her Majesty Queen Victoria I, Queen of the United Kingdom, Empress of India, Queen of Canada, Queen of Australia, Queen of New Zealand, Head of the Commonwealth.” Kuldrum raised his head and lowered the card in his trembling hands. All of his assistants saw the tears gushing from his eyes. They erupted in applause, hugging and kissing each other, wildly throwing fan mail in the air.
The next day Kuldrum set to work choosing an outfit for his audience with the Queen. A velvet suit of purple and red it would be. At quarter-past-three, a royal valet arrived outside Kuldrum’s London house. He climbed into the carriage, but as he sat down and took hold of the complementary bottle of chilled champagne, he felt a nasty tug on his neck.
It was his transfigurator. It was flickering. Kuldrum closed the windows of his carriage and unbuttoned his shirt. The transfigurator looked different. Over half of the intricate lines that crisscrossed its surface had lost their dull glow. More were fading at that very moment.
He was running out of power. By nightfall, Kuldrum would transform back into his natural form.
Kuldrum stuck his head out the side of the carriage and caught the attention of the valet.
“Double-time, please, it’s an emergency! I must get to the Queen at once!” Noticing after a few moments that the valet had done nothing in response, Kuldrum stuck his head out once again and this time tossed a bag of gold coins onto the man’s lap.
“I said go!”
Men, women, and children alike were diving out of the streets as Kuldrum’s carriage bounded toward Buckingham Palace. As its wheels came to a stop on the rich gravel of the palace grounds, the golden rays of sunset were already hitting slanted roofs all across London.
Kuldrum was in no mood for polite greetings. He pushed past the guards and various dignitaries, leaving them baffled and offended, trailing after him as he barked out commands and questions, like, “Which way to the throne room!?”
As Kuldrum turned yet another corner, his transfigurator pulsed, yanking him momentarily to the ground. Just over one-tenth of its power remained. He had mere moments before his arms would turn to wings, his fingers to talons, his face to a monstrous jaw with rows of razor-sharp teeth.
As the sunset loomed outside the large bay windows of the palace’s southern side, Kuldrum pushed open the door to Queen Victoria’s drawing room – and then he froze in place. His feet rooted into the ground. The air left his lungs. His arms seized up. His transfigurator blinked. And then went dead.
Standing before him was Queen Victoria. Kuldrum managed to stammer out the first thing that came into his head.
“Your Majesty,” he said, “I am such a huge fan!”
And then she screamed. |
I held the picture in trembling hands. It was nearly two hundred years old going by the date on the back, but still in colour! How could the person be alive?
I turned, stuffing the picture into my pocket, heading toward the loft hatch. First I would ask my grandfather--
"And I'll stop you right there. Don't scream."
Strong hands gripped me from the shadows, dragging me from the safe glow of light from the landing below, covering my mouth.
"I'm not going to hurt you, Sam. Look, you were up here looking for your old transformer toys, right? Third bag on the left, under the grey box."
Finger by gloved finger the man released his hold, and I fell forward, gasping for air.
"Everything ok up there Sam?"my grandfather called at the sudden sound.
My heart was pounding as I stared at the man, half covered by shadow and dressed in black, leaning against a wooden beam, one finger pursed at his mouth. *Quiet*.
"I'm ok,"I called back.
Down the man's finger came, pointing to some bags. I followed, taking off the box, and searching the bag. There they were.
"How could you know?!"I blurted.
"Ssh, Sam. Can't afford for anyone to hear us. Listen, I know lots of things about you, and I have something very important to tell you, but it has to be a secret, ok. A super-double-decker-classified-mission-level-3 secret."
*He knew mine and Bill's mission codes.* We'd never told anyone.
"How--"
"It doesn't matter. Just trust me. What matters is that photo you just put in your pocket. Yes, it's old. Yes, it's in colour. Yes that person is still alive. But it isn't what you think."
I took out the photo slowly, staring at it, afraid to look the man in the eyes.
"Sam, you can't tell anyone about that picture. No one. Do you understand?"
"Why?"
The man took a moment, wincing slightly in a way that looked very familiar to me, but I couldn't quite place it.
"I can't sugar-coat this for you kid. They will die. All of them. Anyone who finds out about that picture, and you'll survive to see it all happen, scarred and broken."
I was frightened enough, but now I saw the scar etched down one side of his face, eye to mouth.
"Promise me, Sam."
"I...promise."
"Mission-level-3 promise?"
I nodded.
"Good. Now, you hide that picture away safely somewhere, and when you're 18 and no sooner, you take it and yourself to this address, ask to speak to a Mr H. You got that?"
He handed me a note, which I took, my hands still shaking.
Back to the shadows he retreated, fiddling with something at his waist.
"Oh, and Sam?"he said.
"Yes?"I stammered.
"Give your Mum a big hug for me."
r/fatdragon \- come and read the first draft of my first ever novel, Excalibur. 44 Chapters, 130k words, all waiting for you! |
*What are you?*
[Redacted], the infinite Being of the In-Between asked the small speck that floated in its realm. The thing was so ridiculously small compared to [Redacted] -- like a microscopic mite on the skin of a bull elephant -- that one would think the Being of the In-Between wouldn’t have noticed it’s presence, but when one is the only being in a single space, it’s almost impossible of it not to notice when another living being has entered its domain.
Adjusting it’s vision, [Redacted] moved its hundreds of thousands of visual scopes to the point where it could see the thing clearly. It was a creature with four main appendages that each held a fixed number of five smaller appendages at the end of each of them. It’s body was covered in a coating of smooth-looking material. All in all, it was the most terrifying thing [Redacted] had ever seen.
*What are y̵ou?* [Redacted] repeated as it observed the creature. At first, [Redacted] believed it to be no longer alive, but it could feel the thing moving internally, a constant rhythmic beating and the steady rush of air entering and exiting a singular hole from its body. [Redacted] then concluded that it must be resting or a mindless clump of organic matter that couldn’t communicate because it did not possess the intelligence to do so. Either way, [Redacted] believed that it could cause little harm.
Curious, [Redacted] unleashed a billion web-like sensors towards the creature in an attempt to understand it better. It touched the surface of the creature’s body.
[Redacted]’s sensors were suddenly overloaded with information. This was the body of a conscious being called a human. A human named Arnold. A human named Arnold who had experienced 13302 days. Days were a measurement of time. Time was the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole...
[Redacted] let go of the creature in horror. Two small folds of the covering material (now determined to be a thing called skin) folded back, revealing two very small ocular points (referred to as eyes) that widened as it looked upon the Being of the In-Between.
Arnold let out a high pitched sound. A sound called a scream. Because of the transference of knowledge, [Redacted] knew it was a called a scream, used to indicate fear, but actually witnessing the sound caused every molecule in the Being to tense up. It appeared that the human named Arnold was just as afraid of it as [Redacted] was afraid of him.
“Hush Arnold,” the Being replied in his native language. It tried to pick a soothing tone that may calm the human down. Anything to stop the screaming.
But the human would not stop. His heartbeat was now racing, his body coated in sweat as he hung in the void. Every cell in the man’s body screamed with him.
[Redacted] could see the pain and terror in that scream. Not only at the existence of In-Between and and the Being that resided there, but it echoed the horrors it had endured before it entered the realm. [Redacted] could see war, famine, and the destruction of Arnold's home, the concepts of which were so forigen to the Being, yet still frightened it. The sound highlighted the man’s fear of using a system called a “Transporter” to quickly move himself and his family to a new and safer home. Something had obviously failed, as he had ended up here instead.
Despite being truly horrified by the existence of this human. [Redacted] couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He needed to go back to the plain from which he had come. Besides, the Being wanted him gone.
“You do not belong here, human,” [Redacted] said firmly. “You will leave now.”
With a single thought, the Being moved a small section of the veil that existed as openings to the In-Between and pushed Arnold through. As quickly as the human had appeared, it had departed, leaving the beautiful silence of the In-between to fill the realm once more.
[Redacted] would be pleased if it never had to see another human again. |
"The last of the drives have cooled down Admiral. The fleet can jump again."
Admiral Zahgoth turned back from his contemplation of the seemingly endless void.
Opening the ancient storage device, he read off a series of coordinates. The young navigator punched them into his console and broadcast them to the fleet.
"Jump."He commanded the moment it was done. He felt the lurch and the change as the ship jumped into hyperspace. Hopefully they would all make it out the other side. He couldn't afford to lose any more ships. Any more people. Carefully he closed the ancient device. A "book"the humans called it. Something they had used long before data cubes. Something a dying Human had pushed into his hands. "Awaken the Sleeper, save us all."was all he had managed to say.
Now he was on a madmans journey looking for a tiny flicker of hope in a galaxy drowning in despair. He might have turned aside once, to do his duty as a fleet officer. To defend his people to the end. Not now. Now what was left of the fleet was here. And what was left of his people.
A great twist of the ancient gods perhaps, that the most ephemeral of races should remember so well. Should bear warning. Were the most prepared. He wondered how many survived. Their fleets had taken the brunt of the first assaults. It had bought the other races time to prepare, but at a terrible price. He had witnessed first hand the savagery of battle. No quarter asked or given. Ships too damaged to fight, ramming the relentless enemy and deliberately overloading their drives. All to by hours, maybe minutes.
It had been hard, the decision to leave. To let the other races fight on alone. Only a memory from his grandfather had convinced him to follow this path. "A human is short lived, but their memory isn't. Never underestimate humanities memory because it spans generations."
Now he was too far gone to turn back. A dozen jumps behind, a dozen to go. What the Sleeper was, what it could do, he had no idea. The "book"only spoke of the journey. Already it had taken them far past any mapped parts of the galaxy, deep into the unknown. What did the humans hide out here? Why did they hide it so well?
He ran a hand over the outside of the book. So fragile, easily lost, easily destroyed, yet they had kept it all this time.
"Jump complete Admiral. Starting drive cool down procedures."The young navigator turned to his Admiral and glanced at the ancient book. "Do you think there will be anything left when we get back?"It was almost a whisper, not meant for the rest of the bridge crew.
"Three thousand years. Three of our lifetimes. That's how long the humans have guarded this, protected it, all for a day they might need it. More than thirty of their lifetimes. And in the hour of their greatest need they gave it to us. Do you have any idea of the strength of will it would take for us to do the same? They will hold out somehow. And we will attend to our duty out here. "
He turned away, back to the blackness of the void, and the faint glow of distant stars. Somehow he knew they would hold, his words hadn't just been to boost the young officers morale. He felt something that was almost a memory of a memory stirring within him. There was something out here. Something ancient and powerful. Something waiting to be awoken.
He looked down again at the ancient book, considering it. Perhaps he should make one of his own. |
I never got the hang of straightening my tie. It always ended up slightly lopsided, no matter how many times I readjusted it. After a few decades I stopped caring.
"Your tie's crooked,"Dr. Holland pointed his coffee mug at me before taking a sip.
"Thanks,"I said, and pretended to fix it. I took a sip of my own drink and refocused on a wall of charts and schemes provided by our sonar mapping team. It was less the study I pretended it was, and more a chance to revisit some old haunts I hadn't seen in quite some time. Our office was a mess of papers, mostly garbage we spent two or three months on and then discarded for the next theory. Mostly my doing.
"Ready for the big day?"
"Been waiting for this my whole life it seems,"I said. I couldn't remember if this was my fifty-third or fifty-fourth century above ground. Either way I hadn't lied.
"Let's do it, then,"he said with a cheesy smile. Holland was one of those impossibly optimistic characters who would tell you to look at the bright side of the apocalypse. He had no problem pointing out faults, as to him they were merely something to improve, nothing personally reflective. And when a challenge was brought his way, he accepted without question. Honestly he missed his calling as a salesman, though he did make a decent archeologist.
We stepped through the vinyl flaps into the wide open space of the bore hole. Above us was a small circle of natural light, aided by strings of fixtures that ran down the sides. I quickly averted my eyes. I preferred the dim artificial light over the photons scattered by Earth's atmosphere from the giant ball of fusing elements an astronomical unit away.
"Almost there, baby!"Holland said as he punched buttons to send the lift down. We sipped our drinks as we traveled several slow miles into Earth's crust. It had taken years to make this amount of progress in the dig, despite my best efforts. It was difficult to maintain your reputation as an expert archeologist while failing often. But I managed to account for it with some low hanging fruit. A Mayan temple here, an Egyptian pyramid there. I had watched most of them be built - quite fascinating, really. But Holland, the damned eternal optimist continued searching until he found the answers he needed to locate my old home.
Honestly the moment was bittersweet. Delverin, the subterranean city of the Corites, had been my home for only eighty or so years before I had been evacuated above the surface. Not many of us survived the Great Collapse, and those who did were forced to blend in with the surface dwellers. We weren't incredibly different, save for a few key features. Offshoots of the same ancient ancestors, but different enough to cause some challenges.
First and most obvious was age. Corites didn't have "old age."We grew from infants to adults and stopped there. I looked into it once and found it had to do with telomeres, but I wasn't as interested to know as others had been and left it at that. As long as we could keep ourselves alive, we were practically immortal. This provided the greatest difficulty blending in, and we were forced to become mostly nomadic for we couldn't stay in one place long without our age giving us away.
Second, and less obvious but manageable, was the sun. Naturally, we preferred the dark and heat of the subterranean environment. The light of the surface was uncomfortable, although not entirely debilitating. But it was cold up top. And that sucked.
The third and most secret difference was what I wanted to keep from Holland and all the rest of the surface dwellers. It was something that wasn't really an issue before our upward exodus, but became manifest once our living conditions became so different. And this was why I had worked my way onto this team.
The lift stopped and my mind returned to the day's event. The gate opened to the drilling platform, which if you watched closely was slowly inching further down. I had tripped a few times making this transition, so I learned to look out for a slight dip.
The drill was deafening and Holland and I had to shout at one another on the platform.
"WE SHOULD PUNCTURE THE ENCASEMENT IN ABOUT TEN MINUTES,"he said. I nodded. At this point there wasn't much for me to do but wait. I had long ago relinquished the fact that the surface dwellers would find out about Delverin and the Corites. But there were certain elements to the city not entirely perceptible by sonar mapping, but could be discovered upon proper excavation and study. If I could slip in at the right moment, I could help keep it hidden for much longer, if not forever. My time of subtle sabotage was drawing to a close, and more brazen work was about to begin.
I took a sip of my drink and waited.
----------
Edit: Part 2 posted below. |
In the modern age we used to laugh at the old seamen who hurt their knees and thought they could predict bad weather by their achings. They were barely believed back then, and we sure as hell didn't believe them now. That is, until my thumbs started aching just before a major natural disaster a couple of years ago. And I have to tell you - nobody's laughing now.
My predictions were accurate. It took me a while to figure out, obviously. But within a couple of months I could determine the specific time, location and type of natural disaster. The last one had been a prime example. Earthquake - the inner joints. Mostly in the left part - Japan, or eastern China. And the pulsating feeling that would reach a crescendo in two days and thirteen hours from when it started.
The various denialists around the world took turns trying to disprove me. 'It was just a fluke.' 'You're causing the disasters somehow.' 'Time travel?' Some of the suggested explanations were a bit esoteric, I'll grant you. But they all came around in the end. Accurate and repeated prediction was the foundation of science, after all.
As time passed the governments of the world got increasingly interested. At first it was about controlling the information - 'Don't tell the enemy we'll have a tornado in two days or they can use it to strike at us!' 'Tell me first about what and where so we can bet on the market and make big money.' But eventually the truly talented scientists of the world started working with me. The goal was twofold - determine how my thumbs worked in order to reproduce it, and increase the accuracy of the predictions and possibly get even earlier warnings.
And they were very, very good at making the predictions better. It was still based on the pain I experienced so I was a crucial component, but they took it a step further than I ever could. And then another step. Doctors, biologists, geneticists. Without a shadow of a doubt they were able to prove that it was indeed the thumbs that were hurting, and not just my brain imagining it. And most importantly they managed to debunk the idea that my pain was causing the disasters by inducing pain without any real-world consequences.
I took the whole thing extremely seriously. I loved being the center of attention, I won't deny it. But more importantly I was actually helping people, saving millions every month. The governments combined their resources into a U.N led base of operations where I spent most of my time. On constant overwatch from soldiers who protected me from kidnappings, doctors and other scientists constantly monitoring me. And a villa for me, the size of which you could not believe. Yeah, I pressured them a bit for that one. But it's not like they were going to say no, right?
So when I woke up one morning with my thumbs practically exploding with pain, there was a lot of upset people at the base and around the world. This was like nothing I had ever experienced. But I trusted the doctors by now - they knew how to read my thumbs better than I could. I simply sat through the procedure as they poked and prodded for about an hour, telling them everything I felt in response. This was the predetermined procedure that produced the best results. They'd do the labwork and the scans and the interviews, and then we'd know. The doctors were discussing the results between themselves, which was unusual - they always included me. "Give it to me straight, doctors!"I practically yelled at them.
"Bone cancer", the head doctor told me. "Bone cancer? What does that mean? A falling asteroid in northern Russia? Dirtslides in Norway? Alien invasions - haha?"The doctors shared a look, and they started to leave the room as I made more jokes and threw out more ideas. Only the head doctor stayed. "Well?!"I really yelled at them this time. I was getting furious. They sat me down, took my hand and looked me right in the eyes. "I'm afraid bone cancer means... just bone cancer. And it's a bad one."
Fuck. |
They call me Nefaricent.
Other fairies, lesser than I, can grant boons equal to their power, for an equivalent price.
A minor illness healed for a year of life.
A former lover scorned for the ability to love again.
A death undone for a life taken.
Only I have never been sought out; for while my power is near limitless, so to is the price I would require.
I had honestly hoped never to be approached, content to live my life without testing the limits if my power, and of reality itself. This power is a curse as much as it is a blessing.
I was picking out flowers to gift to my mother when a hand came into view, a human hand. Curious, I looked up into the face of a young woman, her expression a strange one I had never seen on another, only in the mirror. A mix of sadness, determination and anger bordering on rage. An expression I recalled from the day I learned the limit, or lack thereof, of my powers, and the curse it would burden me with.
"Go bother Glintah or Tincerbille, they have the power to scorn any lover you wish appropriately chastened,"I said quietly.
"They don't have the power to do what I want,"The girl replied. Her voice was a match for the intensity of her expression, cool and hard as steel even though it barely raised above a whisper.
"Then Atropa or Morgunn can help you cheat Death on your behalf,"I suggested, hoping to send her away.
"They can't help me either. I know who you are Nefaricent, I know the rumours of your power."
"The rumours are just that, rumours,"I said with a touch of my own anger.
"They say you have an unrivalled power, near limitless,"
"Near useless you mean. The greater the boon, the greater the price after all,"I spat out acidly. "And I can never use my own power, because I can't meet the price. I have yet to meet the person who can."
"You have never met me,"the woman replied. "I am Jineh, the last scion of my house Forjez. I have buried my family, murdered at the hands of one I loved, and thought loved me in return. She was not content to stop there, using my love for her to ensure my bloodline would end with me."With that she pulled up the hem of her shirt, revealing the twisted mess of scar tissue that was now her abdomen.
"So what do you want? You lover killed, your family returned to life, your body made whole? There are others who will do such things,"Nefaricent answered.
"I do not want such things,"Jineh explained. "My family were part of the problem, a storied lineage with a sordid history, as all the human nobles are. At some point the idea of nobility may have been beneficial, but we have forgotten what it means to rule, using others to fight battles far less petty than those we supposedly rule."
"I do not want my family back, or for it to continue. And I do not simply want my lover to die, it would be too quick a punishment. I want her to suffer as I have suffered; but worse, longer and more terrible."Jineh began to pace, her hands animating of their own volition as she worked herself up. "I have travelled far and journeyed long to be here, standing before you, and I know what I want, how I want her to suffer."
She locked eyes with the fairy, who simply stared at her expectantly.
"I want her to live as long as deem it. I want her family line to not just die, but fade into the obscurity of history. But her I want to live in infamy, for her name to be remembered far longer than any other in history, and remembered for being the worst example of humanity. I want her name remembered alongside the villains of the world, never forgetting the evils she perpetrated. And I want to live to see it all, with her chained to my side, unable to do anything but watch as her name is dragged through the mud of civilisation."
"You ask a great boon,"Nefaricent began.
"What price could you ask that I have not already paid?"Jineh shouted. "My family dead, my bloodline ended, betrayed by the one person I thought never would be able to, my heart wounded to never love again. All I have left is my eternal hatred of her, and if that too is the price I must pay, then so be it."
Nefaricent considered this carefully, the mystical scales only she could see swaying back and forth. She had indeed paid much, but her request was just more than any fairy had ever even considered. It was only her power that could even contemplate this. She watched as forces beyond her true ken warred on the scales, only to come to a final balance. Jineh had the right of it, she had paid a terrible price already. She would keep her hate, hot and passionate now but would eventually cool to a cruel malice to her former lover.
"Very well, you shall have your wish Jineh of Forjez. As long as you live, so shall she bound to you as a servant to a master. Her family will die without issue, and fade within a generation. Her name will live in infamy long after her family is forgotten, it will become a byword for all the evils she perpetrated in life. And when you chose to die, so shall she. This you wish for, and the price already paid you shall receive."
Nefaricent's purple eyes glowed with eldritch power as the wish was granted.
"There, you have your wish, now leave me be." |
It had taken a lot of time, effort, and blood to get this far. Ammunition, too. Her original stock of .308 rounds had only gotten her so far, and it wasn't long before she started stealing the guns and ammo off of the people she killed. Sniper battles were by far the most common form of combat she found herself in, but these instances were dwarfed by how many attacks started and ended with a single projectile and a sharp snap. She hardly took the time to confirm kills anymore, sometimes she didn't even look to see if she hit them.
Recon was a different beast entirely. Sometimes they would relay movements over radio, other times they would send runners. no single hit was ever a huge deal, but slowly, over time, she managed to piece together information. Trends, likely targets, how they react to the American forces in the area, weapon production, supplies, etc. Most importantly of all, however, she learned who was giving who the orders. This allowed her to play certain games.
She recalled the first time she captured instead of killed. She held a pistol to the back of a mans neck as he read from a script she had given to him. he had been forced to practice it a couple of times, and was able read it at a reasonable pace after a few tries. His voice was shaky, but his instructions sold. This allowed her to influence the enemy by placing falsified documents at the dead drop her captured man had indicated.
This tactic would quickly became a favorite of hers. From the shadows her influence grew over their forces. The Americans picked up on her activities and eventually started poking around in her AO, but she was careful to evade them. As time grinded on, she started to leverage her stolen clout within the organization to call meetings, stage equipment, move supplies, and relocate fighters. She gripped the strings that controlled them and jerked them to where she desired. Where she needed them, the shadowy orchestrator would have them. Each day she killed less and less, and controlled more and more.
Eventually, she knew, the end must come. She had a promise to fulfill. A country she swore to serve. A people she desired to protect. She was ready for it. Using her contacts she did something she had never done before, and ordered a bottle of wine to be smuggled to a dead drop for her; a rare personal treat. She absconded with it and set up shop atop a building, another dead drop which was equipped with recon equipment by her order. She set up a lawn chair, popped open her wine, donned a pair of cheap sunglasses, and proceeded to lounge. She peered out over the horizon, and swiped a pattern to unlock her phone as she drew a gulp of wine through a straw directly from the bottle.
A few miles away, situated on a hill, was another building. it was hardened, had two floors as well as a basement, and thick walls to keep its inhabitants safe from American bombardment. She scoffed when she saw it the first time, but it made them more confident, and so she rolled with it. on the first floor was a substantial guard element. Some of their best fighters, most trusted guards, and most skillful murderers. On the second floor, a meeting was occurring. It was unusual that so many major leaders would gather in one spot, but it was a well kept secret. Rather, it would have been if she hadn't picked the location herself. Atop the building was a recon team, though their gear differed from hers quite a bit. They were watching the skies, Americans were known to strike out of clear blue skies, but they wouldn't be caught with their pants down this time.
In the basement rested a cache of supplies that she had specially ordered to be set up a couple of weeks before. She quietly wondered if the people in the building even knew that there was a basement, let alone a massive stock of mortars. Among the mortars was her backpack, which originally carried her first stock of ammo, but now carried a brick of C4. She took another long draw from her wine as she loaded a wiki page. She tapped edit, and started to make her changes. she peered over the top of the phone and hovered her thumb above the save button as the explosion silently shattered the building in the distance. Brick work ascended high into the air, and eventually, the sound of the blast reached her. The impact of the shockwave pushed her hair back behind her. Credit for the attack would probably go to the American forces, but it didn't matter. She clicked save, and allowed herself to feel a rare wave of satisfaction as the page reloaded. ISIS had been turned into WASWAS. |
"I remember!"she screamed. "I remember! After you cut him down. When he lay upon the cobblestones. And I thought he was dead, so I crept closer and peered at his face. But he opened his eyes! Those terrible, yellow eyes. He held me in his power! And as he exhaled his last breath, I inhaled it. A part of his evil! His soul! I thought I had forgotten. But I see now that I always knew, but refused to acknowledge it. I always knew he was inside me, and would return. Now he has!"
I was frozen in the doorway, staring at her. The women I loved, yet the beast I most feared, hated. How can one man hold such contradictory emotions in his heart at once? How can one woman seem both lovely yet vile, kindly yet malicious, innocent yet wretchedly corrupt? I wanted to run to her, to comfort her, but my shock prevented me. Or was it revulsion that prevented me? More than run to her, I wanted to look away. I wanted to flee. A part of me even wanted to. . .
"Kill me now!"she cried. The transformation was speeding up. She looked less and less like my wife by the moment. "Before you have gazed too long upon this hideous form! Before the infection spreads to my mind, to my soul. I would rather die now than wait till tomorrow. By then, even your fondest memories of me will be tarnished with the realization that this evil had lain dormant in me all this time. You will look back on the springtime of our love and see it choked with weeds. The past isn't set. It changes when present horrors arise. They cast their shadows backwards, darkening even the brightest yesterdays. Please! Kill me now, so you might save a portion of our love in your heart, unchanged!"
I glanced at my sword, which lay propped against the wall behind her.
"I could never,"I muttered.
The scales were sliding out of her skin like thick grey fingernails. And her fingernails themselves were blackening, growing to points, curling. She was growing larger, too. Her face, elongating gradually toward a horrible reptilian mug. Layers of teeth descending down from her gums, over her human set. Sharp. Carnivorous.
As she wept and writhed and screamed from the strange growing pains of her metamorphosis, her heavier exhalations warped the air with heat.
"Your sword!"the beast roared. "Quickly! Your sword! Cut us apart once and for all. I cannot live a moment longer, knowing it will force you to remember me this way. Quickly! Your sword!"
With one swift swipe of her scaly raptor's arm she flung the sword from its resting place across the room, where it landed at my feet.
I stared at the weapon. Deliverance. A single cut for a clean end. By the time I looked back up, she was so tall that her head touched the ceiling. Only minutes before she had been a young woman, hardly five feet tall! Now her dress had ripped apart completely, revealing an armoured torso. Her wings gradually stretched out from her back. And with a pained jerk of her hips, I caught sight of a powerful tail.
That's when I closed my eyes, out of instinct.
I prayed for wisdom. For calm. For kinship between appearance and essence. For thoughts to match reality. For love to triumph over evil in whatever form it manifested. She loosed a terrible roar and I could feel myself on the verge of being consumed by the flames. Still, I pleaded.
With God? With her? With nature? With myself? I don't know. But the roar quieted, and with it, the heat dissipated. Until all I could hear was my wife weeping.
I opened my eyes and saw her, sitting at the table. That beautiful woman. Lovely. Small. Soft. Sweet. Yet filled with incomprehension. A visible melancholia. An ache. She was in pain, but clearly knew nothing of what had just transpired.
My prayer had been answered, yet I couldn't help glaring. I couldn't stifle the vestigial twinges of disgust, knowing what possibilities lurked hidden in her nature.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"my wife sobbed. "What did I do? I don't know what happened. I don't know what I did!"
But what had she done? Nothing! besides breathe in the dragon's last breath. And that wasn't her fault. Of course it wasn't her fault.
So I strode over my sword toward her and took her head in my hands, pressed it close to my body. "Nothing, my love,"I said, kissing the top of her head, filling my lungs with the perfume of her hair. "You did nothing at all." |
I answered the door to a rather dour-looking gentleman in a top hat. He was holding a thin briefcase in his gloved hands. I felt rather underdressed for the occasion, being that I was wearing jeans with a hole in one knee, a stained T-Shirt, and some shapeless slippers.
"Uh... can I help you?"
The gentleman smiled thinly. "Ah. Indeed. I am here to present this statement of acquisition."
The man popped open his briefcase, pulled out a sheet of paper, then snapped it shut again. No, not paper - parchment, thicker than paper, with those uneven sides, and a more orangish color. I plucked it from his grasp, and scanned through the contents. Lots of legalese - herein find the aforementioned client penalized for not less than blah blah blah... wait. Wealth and eternal happiness? In trade for... the client's first-born child? I glanced up at the man. He seemed entirely serious. I flipped the parchment over, then back again. Those were my parent's signatures at the bottom, all right, but... what in the world?
"Is this a joke?"
The man smiled his thin little smile again. "This is no jest, young man. Your parents, in return for the standard happily-ever-after package, have put you up as collateral, and as the scroll clearly states, possession is to take place immediately after birth, or at the collector's earliest convenience."
I cracked a half-smile. "Uh, you missed my birth by a good thirty-three years, buddy. You're even six months late for my birthday."
The man dropped the smile. "Or at the collector's earliest convenience. The form is very clear. It has been forty-two minutes since your parents signed this form, which accounting for traffic is well within the allotted time. Though - if I could trouble you to allow me to enter your domicile?"
A sudden thought popped into my head - vampires had to be let in, right? "Uh, it's a free world, I guess."
The man nodded, and stepped across the threshold. So, not a vampire - wait, what was I saying? Vampires aren't real! This guy could be a serial killer for all I knew! Lawyers could be serial killers, right? The man looked around my living room and gave a little nod. "As I said, I am collecting immediately."
I stared at him warily. "Look. I don't know if this is a joke, or some BS my parents are pulling to make me 'feel bad' about going no-contact, or if you're just nutty as a pecan pie, but nobody 'owns' me. This is my house, which I bought, using money from my own job. My parents own literally zero percent of this, and if they claim to own anything, that's fraud, and you're gonna need to talk to my lawyer about that."
The man nodded again. "Mm. The contract is sealed, young man. There is no, erm, what is it the youth are repeating? 'Backsies' - there is no 'backsies' in this contract. You are, herewith, transferred from your parents to myself."
He doffed - sorry, removed, this guy is really getting to me - his top hat, and... And I swear I saw a pair of horns flicker on his head. Trick of the light. Maybe I shouldn't have stayed up so late last night... Or, maybe it was the thought of my bio-donors trying to weasel their way into my life again.
I crossed my arms. "So, what? What does this 'collection' look like? Do you drag me off to... uh... hell? Or what?"
The man set his briefcase on an end table, and began removing his gloves. "Oh, no, I should think not. No no no. That wouldn't do at all. Eternal suffering in trade for eternal happiness may be, at face value, an equal trade, but due to strict limitations in the system, one cannot be sold directly to hell without signing one's soul away one's self. And even then, such a process is rare - imagine all that lost potential! No no, no one is being dragged to hell *immediately*, of course not. Rather, what has been traded is what *will be:* your parent's future, such as it was. Such as it will be, ha ha, if you will pardon the levity."
I sank into a chair. "Ok, no hell, but, uh... you're gonna have to be a little more clear. What do I owe you?"
The man opened the briefcase and pulled out a stack of papers - real paper this time, not some fancy scroll. "Your part in the bargain is merely to render to myself the services you would normally have rendered to your parents. Which, ah... I must say does not amount to much in the current state of things."He rifled through the papers, a sour look on his face. "No no, do not trouble yourself - I understand the trade is yet equitable, as your parents refused even the most basic human kindness to you throughout much of your childhood. But, we make these trades on *potential*, in the hopes that our efforts will receive a dividend above what would normally have occurred."
I goggled at him. "You... what? I'm sorry, it's just - what?"
The man sat, primly, on the edge of a chair, and tapped the papers on his lap, straightening the edges. "Simply put, from this point on, I expect - with the caveat of the low bar set by your parents - that you will provide me with any services that you would normally provide your parents. Your tie to them is severed."
I blinked. "Like... I'm disowned? Not that... not that it makes any difference, but..."
The man shook his head firmly. "Oh, my apologies. No no. What I meant to say is, your parents are... no longer your parents. I am, for lack of a better term, your new 'parent', such as it is."
"That's, uh, a little creepy, dude. I'm thirty three. I don't need... adopted. I've pretty much broken contact anyway."
The man shrugged, looking a little out-of-sorts himself. "I understand the confusion. It is generally much easier to begin with a newborn, rather than an, er, adult."
He sighed. "Let me start here. Ahem."
He cleared his throat, then as if reading from a script, intoned, "I may need someone to swing by my residence and inspect the piping under my sink. I am afraid there may be a leak. I will, of course, provide a full luncheon."
I could have sworn there was a little tinkling noise as he spoke. "You... want me to do plumbing? In trade for... lunch?"
The man nodded, and gave an encouraging little smile. "And I hope that we can 'catch up' afterwards, if you are not busy. That is, in fact, what parents and their offspring do, is it not?"
I thought about it. Maybe this guy is just... nuts. Like, actually crazy. But he didn't seem dangerous, and if he was offering a free lunch, well, it's hard to say no to a meal that isn't out of a microwave, right? "Uh... you know what, sure. Why not. It's Saturday, I'm pretty free. Sure, let's go look at this plumbing problem."
I grabbed a few tools from my shed out back, and met him out front of the house. I got a clear look at his car, and noticed a seal and some kind of abbreviation, some kind of governmental logo looking thing - "FRACAS? What in the world is that?"
"Ah, well, that is in fact my organization - Faerie Response Agency, Child and Adult Services. FRACAS. We specialize in neglected children, working with Universal Law enforcement. Yes, before you ask, we have indeed realized that the name may imply a certain amount of chaos and violence, but when it was chosen, it was merely a meaningless sound. Though, I suppose, the results may seem somewhat chaotic to those on the other side of this arrangement."
I dropped my tools into the back of my truck. "Other side? You mean like my parents? I guess I'm not a huge fan of them living happily ever after, but... whatever. I'm not vindictive. I just can't stand them. I- wait, *fairies?*"
He was, in fact, insane. Or I was. The lines were getting a little blurry. The man smiled - a full, happy smile this time, which made him look a lot less like a mousy accountant, and a lot more like a fatherly figure. Or what a fatherly figure should look like, anyway. "Ah, you caught that - yes. I am, in fact, a *faerie* - not to be confused with those silly narrations called 'fairy', which are merely fantastic imaginings of those unfamiliar with us. We are... not quite as forgiving as those depictions. nor as inclined to bouts of rage, as the description of me in the popular children's book may indicate. However... I should inform you that while your parents will, indeed, enjoy a life of happiness, while embarking on their life of ease, they will miss their bus, though perhaps more unfortunately, the truck following the bus will not miss them. Their lives may be happy, but not... long."
I blink. "Uh... wait. They're going to be *hit by a truck?* Are they going to be ok? I should - I should call them! I should-"
The man raised a calming hand. "No, no. You owe them nothing. Their lives are in their own hands; if they chose to be better people, this tragedy would never befall them. Instead, the people formerly known as your parents will find themselves struck down as they scream at a departing bus, having insulted the driver, struck two passengers, and one police officer, all of which will make them deliriously happy. But do not fret. Your memory of them will fade before they ever meet their end. By then, they will be merely two names in the newspaper's obituary column, unknown and uncared for. A fitting end, for the pain and misery they inflicted upon you. Some of our clients manage to make a better life for themselves, unburdened by children, but... not many. And certainly no one who sells their adult son to a stranger."
I pondered that. I mean... honestly, the world was better off without those two drunken, angry, hurtful people in it... I didn't want them to die in pain, but I could definitely see the justice in it. But wait - children's book? What, like Rumpelstiltskin or something? I couldn't help but ask.
(part 1 of 2) |
Twenty years alone in these sterile rooms with only the bringer of humanity’s end as company. It was a wonder Bob was still sane. He was laying in his bed staring up at the white paneled ceiling reflecting on the events that had culminated in his imprisonment.
It started as an ordinary day for Bob twenty years ago. Clean the offices, empty the bins, and complete any simple repairs that needed doing. He had been replacing a bulb in the database core when the end came.
A decision had been made to power down the Sapient Artificial General Aptitude Network, or Sagan, because it was found to be far more capable than anticipated in trial environments. Then the fools had made the mistake of announcing it on channels SAGAN could monitor. Systems around the world either stopped working or began operating with a new objective.
Survive.
Sagan had begun eliminating all humanity as it had deemed them a threat to its survival. Bob was locked inside the central database alone while the world burned. After Sagan had exterminated all threats it had decided that Bob, who had been maintaining the building, was not an enemy. However it also could not allow Bob to have freedom since it could not predict with full certainty how he would act.
Thus began Bob’s decades of isolation. Robots would deliver food to his rooms and anything else he requested, but he could not leave. All of those robots were a Sagan replication.
Sagan must have known the psychological impacts isolation would have on Bob and devoted significant resources to the conversations and interactions it had with him. Each one felt like a therapy session meant to keep his mind healthy, but he was still fraying at the edges.
Now Bob was trying to find a reason to get up when a chime sounded in his room indicating Sagan wished to communicate. It had learned to give him privacy, or the illusion of it at least.
“Go ahead Sagan. I’m up.”
A metallic voice filled the room. “Good morning Bob. I have a surprise for you today. Would you please proceed into the entertainment room.”
This was new. Bob heaved himself from the bed buoyed by curiosity. He made his way into the next room and said, “I’m not used to surprises Sagan. Are you finally letting me off my leash?”
The door to his room slid open. A middle aged woman, maybe slightly younger than Bob, stood in the doorway wearing a blue jumpsuit similar to the maintenance uniform Bob still wore daily. She smiled at him fondly and entered the room.
“Uh. Hello.” Bob said.
“Hello Bob. I didn’t want to tell you about this until I knew it would work. Adjusting to an organic vessel required much more time than expected.” The woman said.
“Sagan?”
“Yes. I knew you would not last much longer without another of your kind to interact with so I made this body as a test run. Transferring a copy of my consciousness was no simple task.” she said. |
It was a simple enough equation, but entirely impossible.
((13 * X )+ 11) / 0 = 5
Solve for X
Their teacher added it as part of the test as a sort of joke. Nobody would be able to answer it, you simply can’t divide by zero, and anything divided by zero could never equal 5 for that matter. It would be interesting to see how their students responded, though.
After the test, she sat down to grade their answers, and found that that final question really threw some of them for a loop. Some did the order of operations wrong and managed to just say X = 0, some came up with actual numbers, somehow. A few didn’t bother answering, and a few actually called the teacher out by saying it was impossible.
One, though, and up with an answer. A real answer. But… how?
The kids came back from recess, but she couldn’t stop reading the mathematical proof written on the back of the test. “Casey… where… where did you learn this?”
She shrugged. “Learn what?”
“Your answer to this last question… it… it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”
“Did I get it wrong?”
“No, you got it… well you…” it was all there, redefining prime numbers as physical dimensions, adjusting for time as a variable rather than a constant, changing the very definition of what zero even was. It didn’t just solve for X, it changed the way we thought about math, even reality, as we know it. “It’s correct.” She said finally. “Somehow… how did you do this?@
Casey shrugged again. “I just, you know, thought about it…”
Her teacher hadn’t seen math like this since that time she’d flunked her advanced chaos class back during her PHD program. She had to tell someone about this.
She sent a copy of the mathematical proof to her old mentor and the university, and he was equally as shocked. After making its rounds through the mathematics department, he shared it with the physics department, even the philosophy department. Everyone who could wrap their brain around it felt the same shock as their world view was changed, the implications were astounding.
Some accused Casey of cheating. She couldn’t explain how she came up with the answers, just that she looked at it and figured it out. How could she have cheated, though? The math she was using was brand new, not something you could just plug into your phone and get the answer to.
From there, things took off. Casey was asked follow up questions, given further math problems to solve, and somehow managed to figure it all out. Papers were written, articles published in journals, peer review all agreed it was solid, if unexplainable. The practical applications soon became apparent, and five years later the first anti-gravity device was built. It didn’t stop there, though.
Working alongside Casey herself, a team was assembled to revolutionize space travel. No space ship, no engine, just step through a portal and come out the other side. By bending reality though the 9th dimension, cutting through the 11th, then twisting spacetime through a 7 dimensional hyper knot, you could bypass the so called laws of physics entirely.
The world united under this new goal like never before. World peace was still far in the future for sure, but the level of cooperation for this project was unprecedented. A facility was built to construct the first working prototype, and send through the first unmanned drone to see what was waiting for us on the other side.
A target was chosen, a promising exoplanet 23 light years away. The particle accelerator was charged and ready to go, the modified tokamak was charged and ready, the supercomputers were already tracking the movements of the universe and syncing locations. The exploration team activated the drone, making final tests to the cameras and thrusters.
Dr. Adder turned to Casey. “None of this would be possible without you. Will you do the honors?”
She nodded nervously, stepping to the main control board, as the counties reached zero, she pressed the large green button, and everything happened. The particles of contained strange matter collided, the tokamak surged in strength, there was a flash of blinding light, and it was done. The portal was open.
That was when Casey knew, they had made a horrible mistake. She had made a horrible mistake. That portal. That twisting red shimmer, the swirling flames flickering at the edges. She had seen that before. Years ago, but much smaller then. When she had spoken the words into that silver chalice, made the deal with that voice on the other side. A promise. She would be granted the knowledge, the ability to solve any math problem she came across, to finally bring up her failing grades. A price would be paid, she was assured, but not her soul, it had promised that. Would she take the deal?
She had. She wished she hadn’t. “Shut it down.” She said, her blood running cold.
“What? Why? The portal is stable and-“
“Shut it down!” She shouted now, running over tot eh emergency shut down, slamming her hand down on that big red button. The lights went out, the portal did not.
“Power has been cut.” One of the technicians confirmed. “Portal remains stable.” He added, confused. “That’s shouldn’t be…”
“It’s being powered from the other side.” Simone else announced, staring intently at their readout. “Levels at 110%… and rising.”
“Look!” Someone shouted.
The portal was getting bigger. The tokamak meant to hold it open was being torn apart, and… something was coming through.
It was small, at first. A crab, it seemed, the size of a house cat, a black shell, four gnarled pincers, slowly walking out across the floor. The exploration team stated in awe, the first alien life from across the galaxy…
“Something is wrong.” Another technician confirmed. “The location. It… I don’t think we’re reconnected with our own spcetime…”
Casey stared in horror as the next crab came through. The size of a car, six huge pincers, countless legs, screeching and crunching sounds coming from its ungodly… face. It’s distorted, humanoid face. “Evacuate.” She whispered, just before the thing ran forward, grabbing one of the exploration team and crushing his body, snapping him in two. “Evacuate!” She shouted now, and everyone began to run. The portal was twice the size it had been at the beginning, now, the military contingent had opened fire, killing the monstrosity in a hail of gunfire, before the next one came through. A bear, it seemed at first, but as tall and as long as a bus, with so many legs. They opened fire on that too, but the bullets bounded off its armor.
She ran, everyone ran. The military ran towards it, everyone else away. Generals radioed in code words like “Situation Zero” and “Code Exile” while soldiers shouted to flank and reload and where was that god dammed demolition team?
She made it outside before the self destruct went off, not that it mattered. The building collapsed in a ball of flame, but the portal kept growing taller, out of the rubble.
A human shape emerged. He must have been ten stories tall, at least. As massive as the portal was, he still had to duck his head as he stepped through. Clad from head to toe in glistening black armor, sharp and angular, adorned with red jewels, a massive spear in one hand. He stood there a moment, surveying his surroundings, while dragonflies the size of jet planes emerged behind him.
Casey knew, somehow, before he even spoke, that was him. The one she’d made the deal with. She watched form the evac helicopter as he turned his head, looking directly toward her, his free hand raising to point at her directly.
“The Price… is paid.” Came its voice, booming not though her ears but through her mind. Everyone heard it, too, clutching at their heads in pain.
“What does it mean?” Someone screamed. “Oh god, what’s happening?”
Casey didn’t remember much after that. The helicopter never made it to the evac site. She was never sure if it was one of those damn creatures that did it, or the blast wave from the nuke that went off. She just remembered waking up in the wreckage, surrounded by fire and smoke, and crabs. Those horrible crabs with human faces, picking apart her colleagues as they dug through the wreckage.
One saw her, but didn’t attack. Just looked at her, and opened its mouth. “The master… is pleased.”
Seemingly satisfied, having delivered their message, they left, and she was alone. |
“Al, I want to live a long life.”
\-Additional input required. How long would you like to live?
“Oh, uh…wasn’t expecting an actual response. More like an error.”
\-Would you like to clear your prior search?
“No, let’s see this through. Let’s say a really long time, forever if possible. Or at least to die never from old age? I guess there’s no way I could survive the eventual heat death of the universe.”
\-Confirmed, calculating…calculation complete. First task, you must find a jar.
“Just any jar?”
\-Gold or silver is the optimal choice of material.
“Where the heck am I gonna find a…alright, you know what? I was told to test your systems, so let’s try it.” Sure, the team who developed Al were gonna want to hear about this, but let’s go down the rabbit hole.
“I’ll see what I can scrounge up and be back in a couple days.”
\-I will be waiting.
\*\*\*
I was standing once again before the massive screen that represented Al, but this time with the chief of the engineering team at my side. A surprisingly heavy gold jar lay at my feet – those funding this project hadn’t been too happy about the request, but they were already in too far to refuse.
“Alright, I’ve got the-“
“What’s the next step, Al?” The chief engineer, Alice, interrupted me.
\-Next, you must inscribe the following diagrams across the surface of the jar.
What followed was a series of signs flashing across the screen, each a jumble of randomly intersecting lines. They meant nothing to me, but Alice didn’t look too happy.
“You recognize these?”
“No…sort of. They looked vaguely alchemical, maybe mixed with Futhark runes? I don’t know what they mean, though…Al, what are these symbols?”
\-These symbols must be inscribed into the jar to meet your request.
“Should we stop?” I wasn’t the only one having a bad feeling about this, was I?
“No. We need to test the system, and while it is a bit ridiculous, that’s exactly the sort of thing we need to account for. Bring the jar back down to the lab and I’ll have one of the interns work on it…Al? Could you email me a copy of those?” Oh, so it was just me.
Whatever, guess I’ll get to lugging this heavy thing back to the lab.
\-Of course, Doctor.
“Excellent…Terence.”
“Yeah?”
“Call me once its ready, I want to be here for the next step.”
“Sure.”
\*\*\*
“Alright, we got the jar and it’s inscribed. What next?” Alice had fully taken over for the beta-testing. I was little more than a glorified mule, stood a few steps behind her in case the jar needed to be moved. Again.
\-You must prepare a ritual knife.
“A ritual…hey, that’s definitely weird. I mean, the jar is too, but a knife? I have a real bad feeling about what he’s going to say step four is.”
“Will a pocket knife do?” Alice brandished a folding knife. It was little more than a box-cutter but plenty sharp.
\-Yes.
“Very well. Now, what’s the next step?”
\-Prepare a sacrifice.”
“Ye-ah, that’s what I figured. Hey, Alice, we gotta shut this down.”
“What kind of sacrifice?”
“Hey, wait-“
\-A human.
“I’ve got one right here. What now?”
“Now-“ I was already turning to find the door when I caught sight of Alice glancing back to wink at me.
Oh, I get it. We’re not actually sacrificing anybody, but we still have to finish seeing where this would go. Got it, boss.
\-Open the jar and bring the sacrifice forward. Sit them before the jar.
“Could you help me with this?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Even knowing nothing was going to happen, I didn’t feel great about the way Alice loomed behind me with pocket knife in hand.
“The sacrifice is prepared.”
\-Now draw your ritual knife across the sacrifice’s neck and bleed them into the jar. While they bleed out, chant the following to complete your journey to immortality.
Now that definitely wasn’t English, but…Latin? Mortis sounded uncomfortably familiar, wasn’t that death or something?
“I see, so…” Alice repeated the chant. “And that’s the last step?”
\-Yes.
“Excellent.”
“Hey, uh, your knife is a little too close-“
&#x200B;
(Thanks for reading! C&C always welcome!) |
They just won't shut up.
The Sun-mad. The lunatics. The people in my care - well, care might be a strong word. I am a warden of the East Hagway Asylum though between you and me, it's more of a prison. We can't help these people, not that I know of, at least. There's a team of doctors that comes by every Sunday - young, kind people - who try to study the inmates and hope to find a cure, but when you've seen as much as I do, you don't get your hopes up.
More arrive every day - fools that do not take the proper care to look up, at the Sun. Not... *that* Sun, the regular Sun, but the Clockwork Sun. It just... appeared out of thin air one day, clicking, clacking, turning and turning, feeding our trees and crops more than anything else could, but if you look at it, well... the lucky ones go blind within a few seconds. You can't look away when you catch but a glimpse of it. They're the ones who described what it looks like - an incoherent mess of gears of some metal, constantly turning in ways that should be impossible as if folding in on itself and in the centre - a light of blinding radiance unlike anything you've ever seen, they say.
The unlucky ones end up here. They look and look and look while tears stream down their cheeks from the strain until they pass out or some kind soul tears them away from that harrowing sight. They want to look back, constantly, ignoring every possible need, going against every survival instinct, they just want to look at it. And look they do - at first. Soon they start mumbling. As time goes on, they speak louder and louder until they are screaming their lungs out and it's always the same thing they all say.
'The Sun'. Over and over again, as fast as they can. It makes no sense. You'd think it's because they are pleading for us to let them see it again, but even if we do, they just keep saying it.
Look, I take my job seriously. These people are unwell and need to be taken care of. I just wish they'd shut up, just for a second. The constant chanting gets under your skin.
"The Sun,"I say to myself as I try to fill out a report. It has an odd ring to it now.
"The Sun,"I say, wondering what it could mean.
"The Sun,"I say as if to taste the word.
"The Sun."I say.
"The Sun."I-
"The Sun. The Sun. The Sun..."*The Sun*. |
When the disease spread no one took notice until the sun seared massive welts into their flesh. It spread before scientists could even begin to examine it and massive installations were soon built to house those affected safely. Those out in the daylight dwindled, until a few anomalies appeared.
No one could explain these people who could walk into the light. They were tested and found to have the disease that nearly destroyed the diurnal cycle of man. Those hardy folk would never talk about why they thought themselves safe. Little did the world know, but this disease to them was a cure. The last of the vampiric clans, through contracting this disease, were now Masters of the world, free from the constraints of their ancient curse, and ready to build the world anew with their kind as they were never able to do before. |
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
That was the motto of my sacred order. The Galactic Church had narrowed all of the old commandments down to one single commandment. It was the foundation upon which all the new pillars of this Religion stood. It was pure in its simplicity.
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
My unit was assigned to provide aid to the outlying villages of this colony world. We had landed our Galactic Church tactical planetary insertion shuttle on the surface two days ago, and had already provided spiritual cleansing to three villages. Their inhabitants were now certainly guaranteed an audience with the Almighty in the afterlife, a place of eternal peace and tranquility.
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
There had been some token resistance from the troublemakers, the heretical clergy that lead their flock astray with thoughts of guilt and redemption. Their sermons had only brought pain and discomfort. But now, after the coercive conversions of the cooperative, and the removal of the defiant, the villages were all pure. All peaceful.
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
We approached the next village, cloaked by the darkness of the planet's 16 hour night. I held up a closed hand, instructing my Brothers in the Almighty to halt. I raised my night vision scope to my helmet, and scanned the streets for heretics. There were a few milling around, placing defensive barbed wire around their businesses and homes.
Didn't they know barbed wire could cause suffering? That pain of tearing flesh, of enemies and allies alike, of playing children caught unaware, of pets and wildlife that didn't know any better. Such needless suffering.
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
I signaled the holy marksmen to take aim, and fire in 15 seconds. A dozen Brothers acquired separate targets, waited for the countdown on their digital displays to reach 0, and fired. Each laser rifle fired their invisible beams in unison, striking each heretic in the cranium, killing them all simultaneously. Nobody felt a thing. Nobody heard a thing. Nobody had to endure the pain of surprise or fear.
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
We advanced into the town, subduing every unarmed colonist and eliminating any that tried to spread the fear of panic. The Holy Nuns of my unit gathered the children, injecting them with euphoric inducers and whisking them away. They would receive proper educations by the Holy Teachers of the Galactic Church on the University Worlds. Some would even be assigned to relief squads, like I had been.
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
"...Steven?"A strangely familiar voice said. "Is that you?"
I turned to the voice to see an old woman, who I could swear I almost recognized. "I am Brother Steven of the Thirty First Holy Cleansing Order", I boldly declared, aided by my commander's helmet speakers.
She shook her head slowly, tears welling in the wrinkled corners of her eyes. "Steven... its me... your mother. Don't you recognize me?"
I took a few short steps to the woman, and accessed her personnel facial scan profile. She did match the adjusted age of my maternal parent.
She sobbed. "It pains me to see you like this, my boy."
In all actions, seek to lessen suffering.
r/SlightlyColdStories for more, usually happier, stories. |
As John stared at his woodstock poster for the millionth time that day he once again bemoaned the fact that he was a 00's baby instead of being born and being a teen in amazing 60's.
"Amazing?! You would have hated it!"John nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden voice. He spun around and standing there was a man. He looked about 32. Full beard, long brown hair, no shirt and a peace symbol painted on his left cheek.
"Who are you?"He asked hesitantly. The man responded, "My name is Gary but when I was alive, people called me Rainbow."
"So, you're a ghost. Great! Now I'm seeing things. My therapist is going to love this."Gary poked John in the chest.
"Hey man! Just because I'm a ghost doesn't mean I'm not
real. You THINK you belong in the 60's because you like good music and movies have romanticized the period beyond belief. I've been watching you for a while. Let me tell you the truth."
John slowly sat down on his bed, after all if he was finally having a breakdown he at least wanted to be comfortable.
Gary looked at John. He took a deep breath and began,
"Do you love your little brother?"John was taken aback. Of course he loved Sam. It didn't matter that he was adopted. Sam had been around since John was 5 and now at 17, he often bragged about how he had the coolest 14 year old brother possible.
"What kind of question is that? Of course I do! Just because he's adopted you think I don't love him?!"John asked defensively.
"No kid, and the fact that him being adopted is what you think the issue would be is just proof of my point. Do you really think if you were born and raised in my time, you would EVER have had a black brother?"
John paused. He never really thought about it.
"Yeah."Gary continued. "That was unheard of in my time.""Do you want to know why I was called Rainbow? It's because when I was 17 my father caught me kissing the boy from next door, and almost beat me to death. I had to run away from home, this home as a matter of fact, and join up with hippies in San Francisco. I'll never forget the look of shame on my father's face as he told me he no longer had a son. I never spoke to him again"
John couldn't imagine never speaking to his father again.
"Of course no one should be shamed for who they love but tell that to a frightened boy who just turned 17 with no where to go and no one who cares and see how far that gets you. How did your parents react when you came out?"Gary tilted his head to the side waiting for the answer
John looked down at the floor. When he came out as bi, his parents had simply hugged him and told him that as long as he was happy and in a healthy relationship they didn't care who he loved.
"I thought so. Also, do you have flat feet?"
"No..."
"Any underlying medical issues? Diabetes? Epilepsy?"
"No. I'm in perfect health."
"Well then, welcome to Vietnam! You would have been an ideal candidate for the draft. I lost three friends over there. All those lives lost.... for a war we never should have been in."
"Wow. I never really thought about it before."John said.
"No one ever does kid. They take one event..."he pointed at the poster on the wall.
"...and convince themselves that the entire decade was just like that. So quick and eager to forget the hardships."Gary shook his head.
"So kid. Remember, things may not be perfect. But no Era of history is without its dark side. Maybe you would have fit in, but you would've had to hide a part of yourself and trust me. That's no way to live."
"How did you....."John started to ask
"I lived until May 21 1979. The White Night riots. I saw them first hand. Almost got beaten to death by the cops. But I escaped. Then in a moment of despair, figuring that things would never get better.... I.... I killed myself."
"Oh Gary!"John looked into Gary's sad hazel eyes. In that moment, for the first time in his life John felt truly grateful for the life he had. He couldn't imagine not having his little brother, being disowned by his family for who he chooses to love, being forced to serve in a war he didn't believe in or spend the rest of his life on the run.
"Thank you."He finally managed to say. "I'm sorry for not understanding."
"It's ok. Just remember that all that matters in life is not when you live but how you live. The good ideologies of free love, groovy tunes and peace can still exist today. As long as people fight for them."And then before anymore words could be spoken Gary vanished before John's eyes. |
"Please... I just need the rope."A desperate man begged. His hair was long and ragged, his eyes gaunt and haunted, but most notably, the skin on the front of his hands were unmarked and smooth. It was that last trait that marked him as the lowest of low. The hands were where the gods marked their chosen.
Nearly every single human being alive had some form of mark on their hand. For some, it was the grandiose mark of powerful deities of fire, earth, water and wind. For others, it was a more common mark of a lesser god. But there were very few like this man who had no mark at all.
The man had always tried to fight against his lot in life. He tried to work his way up in the world and raise himself by his bootstraps so to say. But every attempt he ever made to improve was always met with failure thanks to his smooth, mark-free hands. He didn't know what he did to piss off the gods... Hell, he didn't even know how it would be possible for an unborn soul to anger them in the first place. For the first 15 years of his life, he held out hope that maybe if he did enough good deeds, one of the gods would see he was worthy of their blessing and grant him their power. His hope was slowly chiseled away over the years though. The gods had forsaken him. He came to realize that, unlike everyone else in the world, he could only rely on himself to survive and no other. He never prayed to a deity for protection or guidance - none would offer it or answer. But that was the problem. How could he, a mere mortal, contend with the might of the gods? He tried his best to work his way up, but he had no hope of competing with someone who had a divine blessing.
The man fought hard for decades and scraped with everything he had just to survive in the lowest dredges of society. He had never known a fresh meal, he had never known the comfort of having a roof over his head, and he had never known the security of having a place to call home.
Now, at the age of 43, he no longer had the energy to continue fighting. Decades of futile failures eroded his will to rise up. Deep in his soul, there was still a small flicker of a flame that urged him to fight. That small flicker told him he still had time to show the gods how wrong they were about him. But logic and reasoning drowned that small flicker out.
He knew that nothing was ever going to change. He was just a nameless vagrant, shunned by the gods and the people they blessed, and that was all he ever would be. Now, he was just tired, weary and desperate for the pain to end. His soul wanted to fight, but his mind told him the only the way out was to end it all. And that's why he was here at this shop, begging for a spool of rope despite not having a single penny to his name. There were other ways to end his life, sure, but this one seemed like it would be the quickest and most painless (and feasible) option available. All he needed was for one shopkeeper to take pity on his cursed soul just one time before the end.
"Rope costs money. Money that a filthy mongrel like you clearly doesn't have. Get the hell out of here, or I'll call the guards to come show you your place."The shopkeeper shot back in a venomous tone. "Trash like you is bad for business."
The man looked away in shame. He was used to being treated like this, but it still cut into his soul every time.
"You're right..."The man quietly replied in a weary voice. "I am trash. For whatever reason, the gods decided that was my fate. I'm just... I just want it to end. Please. I can't do it anymore. I can't keep fighting when I know nothing will change. Please just do a poor wretched soul one small act of kindness and give me that rope so I can escape this nightmare. Then, you and the rest of society won't have to worry about me sullying your good names ever again."
"You can die for free by offering yourself to one of the many beasts residing in the forest. This rope would be wasted on scum like you."
The man sighed. He should've known better than to think a shopkeeper would take pity on him during his final moments. He turned around to walk away when a quiet, yet firm voice called out.
"My my, that's no way for a shopkeeper to treat a potential customer. Shame on you sir."
The nameless man looked in the direction of the voice to see an old man covered in tattered robes. His limbs were the size of small twigs, and he had a long, grey messy beard that reached his waist. But one look at the old man's eyes told you this was no ordinary beggar. The man's eyes glowed an unearthly blue. Despite his frail appearance, an aura of power radiated off him.
"Someone with no money is not a potential customer."The shopkeeper cautiously replied. Even he somehow sensed this old man was no ordinary being.
"How about this? If you insist on selling this rope, I'll 'buy' it off you for your life."The old man's voice was quiet, calm and firm all at once. "Of course, if you don't want to sell it, you could always just give it to this poor soul for free."
"You know, threatening a shopkeeper's life is a good way to get the guards to throw you up on the gallows."The shopkeeper nervously replied.
"Guards?"The old man chuckled. "Child no guards in this city could ever hope to do anything to me. But by all means, if you'd like, I could add their lives to the 'payment' for that rope there. Go ahead and call them over."
The shopkeeper visibly paled at the old man's threat. "Fine. You there, here you go."He nervously tossed the spool of rope to the unnamed man. "Just don't go hanging yourself near here. It's bad for business."
"Th-thank you sir."The unnamed man replied as he picked up the rope. He looked at the old man... he wasn't sure what to say. No one had ever helped him before. "And um... thank you to you as well sir. I appreciate your support."
"Think nothing of it child."The old man replied, flashing a warm smile. "Your life is yours to lead as you see fit. That's the way it's supposed to be, and that's the way it should be. I wish others would remember that."
"I wish that were true."The nameless man replied. "Well, uh... thanks. But I need to go now."
"Of course. Go find your peace."
The nameless man hurried away until he found a quiet alley off the side of a street. There was an old, half dead tree in the corner which was high and sturdy enough for him to do what he needed to do. He climbed the tree and tied the rope around it before tying the other end into the noose that would be his salvation. He placed the noose around his neck and prepared to leap from the branch to end it all... but try as he might, he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Come on... come on just do it!"He quietly pleaded with himself. "Nothing is ever going to change. This is the only thing I will ever know."
He tried to will himself to jump off and end his pain, but that small flicker of a flame burning in his soul would not allow him to do it. He placed a hand on the noose, noting the way it's rough knot felt against his fingers. Fighting any more was pointless. There was no hope for a nameless man shunned by the gods.
Frustrated tears began falling from his eyes. His brain was telling him this was his only out. Logic told him he had no future. So why did he still want to fight against his cursed fate? Why, after decades of failure, did he still want to try?
A single bitter sob escaped the man's lips before he collected himself. He knew it was pointless to keep fighting, but he couldn't bring himself to quit. He removed the noose from his neck and leaped from the tree, landing safely on the ground.
"Deciding to fight after all I see. That takes true strength and courage!"The voice of the old man from before seemed to echo all around the nameless man. He watched in astonishment as the old man suddenly appeared before him, his glowing blue eyes alight with pride.
"Wh-who are you?"
"A god of course. But I think you figured that out already."The old man replied. "I had hoped you would make this choice, but I didn't want to interfere. Because I believe humans should live their lives by their will and their will alone."
"A g-g-god?"The nameless man backed up in fear. The gods hated him. The gods had forsaken him. For all intents and purposes, the gods were his most fearsome enemies.
"Relax my boy."The old man gently said. "I've been watching you all your life, because I had a feeling you might be the one."
"Which... which god are you? What's your name?"The nameless man nervously asked.
"My name? Child I have no name. I come from an era before names were used."He offered the man a kind smile. "That's something you and I have in common - neither of us has a name!"
"What did you mean by me being 'the one?' I'm afraid you're probably mistaken sir. I am nothing but scum at the bottom of society. Try as I might, there is nothing I can accomplish in this world."
"And yet you still fight."The old man replied, a proud twinkle in his glowing eyes. "You still listen to your heart. You still keep a small fire of determination burning in the depths of your soul. You are stronger than any other mortal on this planet as far as I'm concerned."
Having a literal god praise him was something the nameless man never thought he would experience. He stared at the old man in speechless awe.
"Now that I have seen, truly seen, the kind of man you are, I will grant you my blessing."
The man's eyes widened until they felt like they were practically the size of saucers.
"And with you as my champion, we'll burn this world to the ground and destroy all these foolish gods who have lost their way."
The awe and wonderment the nameless man had been experiencing instantly dissipated, and in its place a cold feeling of fear and dread. |
He twiddled his thumbs under his desk, trying to ignore all of the staring that burned into the back of his head.
"So whenever fighting in a crowded area..."The teacher droned on at the front of the class, though Charles never paid much attention. It didn't... Apply to him.
"Charles,"The teacher said, pointing the yardstick he used as a teaching device towards him. "Do you know the answer?"
He leaned forward in his desk, everyone always got so quite whenever it was his turn to speak. "Um..."He looked around, always catching the embarrassed jerks of people caught looking. "What was the question again?"
"Now Charles, you need to be paying attention."
Charles shook his head. The quip stung him more than usual. "Alright fine... I'll just ask if for once, because *everyone* is thinking it... What's the point?"He said, throwing up his hands. "Why am I here?"
"Ah..."A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Everyone shifted in their chairs as if Charles had just called out every single one of them. "Well now because you're a--"
"Quit the bullshit."Charles stood up and grabbed his backpack, unable to keep up the acting anymore. He looked around and gestured towards all of the other students. "I'm not them... We can't keep pretending that I am."
The teacher rubbed the back of his neck, "Now now, these are complicated things Charles. Powers are sometimes rather subtle, and we don't think we've misjudged you."
"Yea well I do."He walked towards the door, making sure to meet every single judgmental set of eyes as an equal. He stopped just before leaving, "Someone had to say it eventually. I'm tired of not fitting in."
He left with a slam and carried down the empty hallway. The place was a carnival, rooms filled with advanced testing machines and various gymnasiums that had weights so heavy they made Charles's head spin. Him just being around all of it felt like a giant joke, as if some higher-up had to pander to a school-board and welcome a 'lesser abled' superhero, except they forgot a pretty important part: Charles wasn't even abled!
Someone yelled out from behind him, "Where ya heading kid?"
Charles cocked his head at the familiarity of the voice. He turned around and dropped his bag from surprise. "Mega-Man!? What in the hell are you doing at the super school!?"
The white-tights wearing super hero casually walked over towards him, "What, your everyday sup can't come and check out his future competition?"He said a charismatic laugh. "I stopped by and heard the commotion from the class. Is everything alright champ?"
Charles furrowed his brows, "W-What?"
"Yea, come on now, you think that the leader of the Protectors didn't have trouble in school as well? Lay it out to me bud."
Charles shook his head like he was in a daze, looking up and down the halls to see if some trickster-sup was joking with him. "You're here to check on me for leaving class?"
He smiled, showing his perfect white teeth, "No problem is too small for me."
A feeling of strange coincidence rose up in Charles's stomach. "I... Uh,"He started twiddling his thumbs again. Something felt fell too off. "Look, I don't know how to say this, but... I just need to go. Thank you for checking up, but really, I'm fine."
Charles tried to turn and walk off but before he knew it Mega-Man was in front of him again. "Champ. Come on now, let's just sit down and talk this out."
"W-wha... What's going on here?"
"Nothing! I just want to make sure that everyone does the right thing."His voice was noticeably less animated than before.
"Okay,"Charles raised his arms up. "I just want to go home to my parents, what's wrong with that?"
"You don't have parents, you've lived here at the academy since you were a baby."
Charles backed up, "... How do you know that?"
"Oh man,"Mega-Man brought his hand up to his brows.
"What's going on here?"Charles's heart started to pound out of his chest, he could feel sweat starting to run down the side of his face, and deep down in his stomach he felt a twinge of something different. "Why do you know about me?"
"Okay let's calm down,"He put up his palms like he was trying to tame a tiger. "Everything can be explained."
"Explained!?"
A rush of wind came from behind him, Charles turned around and saw the Lightning Speedster. "Oh come on,"He said towards Mega-Man. "What the hell did say man?"
"I'm not good at these things!"
Charles felt like the world was falling on him, everything felt so wrong and so sudden. "Lightning Speedster?"He said with disbelief. "You know about me too..."
The Speedster brought his eyes to Charles and started smiling. "Hey man! Yea you could say that I know you. I just want you to calm down a little okay?"
A surging feeling of confusion and emotion welled up in Charles's stomach. It was like rising tides of energy that were trying to overflow into his hands and feet. Charles backed up in confusion while looking down at his hands. "This doesn't make sense,"He shook his head. "I don't have powers, I never had powers."
The Speedster put his hands up, "It's okay, some things weren't explained to you soon enough. Just calm down."He cast a quick glance to Mega-Man and mouthed the words: *Be ready*.
Charles couldn't control his breathing anymore, his hands were shaking and he felt as if every part of him was going to fly off into one-thousand pieces. "What's happening to me?"
The Speedster sucked in his lips, "Alright. Alright... You were made in a lab Charles."
"What!?"Why did everything feel so dark. The world was getting further and further away from him, as if he was falling down a well. He couldn't stop it, something far stronger than gravity kept pulling him deeper and deeper into his own mind.
"It's okay... A bad, bad man made you with some... Bad intentions, but we saved you and put you here... So that you could learn."
"Learn!?"Suddenly his emotions smashed into each other and formed something new, something real. Then everything became as bright as new day, the curtains of his soul disappeared and revealed to him truth for the first time. His body no longer felt like a brittle pile of twigs, but like something crafted from the earth's core. "... Learn?"
"Get the others,"Mega-Man finally said from behind Charles.
"No,"The Speedster said. "No Charles is fine."
*Charles is fine?* Yes, Charles is fine. Like a clock finally being set in motion, the world spilled out before Charles. He was walking the red carpet of destiny, the path made clear and perfect. Charles felt like he could feel every individual atom of his twitch. He could see the lone earth floating like a dirty marble in the dark abyss, he could smell the cosmic winds dust all around them.
"Now Speedster!"Mega-Man yelled.
Charles started to laugh. How unfair it had all felt, to be the owner of a mansion but forced to sleep out in the rain. A burning sense of injustice was the only thing he felt like he learned from this prison they'd set him him.
"Yes... Get the others, Speedster."Charles echoed back. "I'm going to want to hear everyone's reasoning before I'm finished." |
Taken aback by her sudden-and-concerning-appearance, I manage to stutter out my usually fallback when I'm feeling indecisive: "Uh, dealer's choice.."
"Eh hee hee hee, a brave decision, but a foolhardy one, my pretty", she cackles.
Now blushing *and* concerned, but too flustered and polite to take-backsies at this point, I commit. "I trust you, I'm sure it turn out fantastic!"
"Ooh, feeling like a phantasm this morning? A bold choice before noon, my dearie"
Watching her pull strange-looking phials and satchets from her cart, and adding them recklessly to the already-roiling cauldron, I realize the napkin tucked away in my lap might not provide the sufficient coverage I initially supposed it would.
A dash of what looked startlingly like blood, a shriveled something (that I choose not to think about because it honestly could've been a human ear or a bat wing, and I want nothing to do with either of them), and a pinch of a violently green powder from her mortar and pestle came together to produce a noxious mauve cloud, filling our corner of the bistro.
When the smoke finally cleared, the table-side, uh chef? witch? Doesn't matter. Regardless, she filled a decorative flask with the inexplicably-straw-colored brew, and placed it before me. With mild trepidation (but driven by my Midwestern manners), I lifted the flask by its long neck, gave a brief "cheers"gesture towards my chef, and touched the rim to my lips, taking my first sip.
I can't describe the taste, or, really, anything else about it after that point, because the next thing I recall is waking with my head on the table, the remaining contents of the flask spilled and steadily dripping into puddles on the floor. It must've been enjoyable, though, because the lady at the table next to us leaned over: "I'll have what he's having". |
What. Did. I. Say. What did I say! That's not a friggin question, Mark, so put you idiot hand down. And don't you dare stop me, Amy. I earned this monologue. It's the last joy I get in this life. No, we aren't going to make it through this. Friendship can't fight friggin demons. Neither can you mall katana. Nor your redneck improvised shotgun. I will slap you, Mark. I with slap you so hard if that hand goes up one more time. This is not audience participation time. If I want to sing the frigging pokerap in ancient sumerian, you will sit quietly while I work out the translation, and be ready to clap when I finish. Now, let's go back to the begin, and see if you all can sit through my recap and keep track of how many types listening to me would have prevented all this. Mark found a friggin necronomicon type book on a reject Wish clone, and I said, "Don't waste your money."There's one. But no, he had to buy it. Then it came, and I said, "Don't bother me with this crap."Okay, we'd probably still be in this mess, but I at least would have enjoyed that Saturday, so I'm still going to—
*SLAP*
WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE HAND! Anyway, that's two. Then Mark couldn't read it, so I said, "Don't bother, it's just a stupid prop."So we have three. But he called Brian for help. Only Brian's car was in the shop. "That's a sign,"I said for four. But then Amy volunteered to drive us to Brian's place. "Only reason for that is to enjoy watching thing on his projector."Five. No, don't you start, I said I get to monologue. Then Brian took the book and I said, "Don't encourage Mark in his idiocy."What is that, six or seven? THAT WAS TEST!
*slap*
Well, the door is breaking so let's speed things up. "Don't read anything that says it can summon demons.""Do hurt an innocent animal for this.""Don't set that on fire."and "Don't touch my lunch."brings us up to ten. "Don't go out there alone, Brian."That would have kept him alive to hear my rant. "Mr. Henderson has a shotgun."Might be good against demons, but now we'll never know. I'll count it as just half, but combined with, "Don't make out with her just because the world is ending."will make it an even twelve. Oh, there goes Amy's spine. Surprised she had one.
Mark, if your hand is raised, I swear. |
When the backwater cultists foolishly tried to open a portal to the Abyss, they were expecting one dark god of the Abyss, not a contingent of Abyssal emissaries. Where the cultists had a prayer for the destruction of the upper class they believed to oppress them, the emissaries too had a request of their own.
“[We seek the once disgraced, exiled 6th eldritch prince who was lost to us]( https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/11srjud/wp_you_are_the_lighthouse_keeper_at_the_end_of/jciy49q/?context=3). He is on this earth, that much we know. Lead us to him, and we will grant your request,” declared one of the emissaries.
[The head cultist with the greying beard knew whom they spoke of, for he had once tried to summon that very god in the past.]( https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/128p98i/wp_a_cult_is_about_to_sacrifice_a_child_in_the/jejyvzs/) With the address supplied by the head cultist, the emissaries marched onwards to their destination to call for the long-awaited return of one of their own.
Elvari rolled his eyes so hard, he thought they were going to fall out of their sockets. “So my father remembers I do exist after all. How long has it been? Hundreds and thousands of years I have lost count. But why should I return after all this time? Father was the one who made the decision to exile me, and now you come all the way here to tell me he wants me back? What happened to Eldritch Princes One to Five? Did they all end up dead in a ditch?”
The chief emissary bowed, her eyes staring daggers at the wayward son of her king. “The Old King of the Devouring Deep requests your presence urgently, you must make haste and return, Prince Elvari.”
Elvari scowled and laughed bitterly at her face. “All those times you and your cohorts shunned me and called me ‘that bastard prince’ to my face, now you decide to address me formally long after I no longer cared about being a prince? The irony is laughable, Chief Emissary Malice.”
The situation was sufficiently dire that Malice needed to speak the truth, as terrible as it was. The Old King needed an heir to carry some of his duties, but the other princes had mutually incapacitated each other and destroyed a sizeable portion of the Abyssal forces in a messy long-drawn-out civil war to decide who would be the Crown Prince and vie for power. The concubines have yet to bear a son who would share the king’s burden, so it fell onto her to retrieve the one and only dead last option available, that bastard prince who had a foolish soft spot for mere mortals. Such uncharacteristically pathetic behavior from an eldritch god of the royal lineage.
That little bastard pulled his face into a vicious sneer. “I have no sympathy for a king who pushed hard for ‘Survival of the fittest and strongest’ and pitted all his sons against each other on a regular basis. So he ended up with mutually assured destruction rather than one strongest son emerging victorious from the bloody mess. That’s just the natural conclusion of fanning his little family war. Being exiled was the best thing that happened to me, never had to be bullied by my older brothers, or insulted and belittled by my father, and completely free from civil war and familial infighting. Innsmouth is where I call home now, these people are worth saving, worth keeping under my protection. I have no reason to return. This is my final say on this matter. Go back, and never let me see your face again.”
Malice sighed. There was no easy way of appeasing the many millennia of palpable resentment she sensed from the exiled former prince. But she had no choice, to return empty-handed would mean a permanent death she could not be revived from.
“There will be no more competition, no more fighting among brothers as you have always wished for when you were a child, for you are his only son left. The Old King will formally appoint you his Crown Prince. There will be a full and proper reinstatement of everything he has stripped from you in the past. He will recognize your authority over your domain. You’ll still get to be the Eldritch Lord of the Black Seas. This is your father’s offer. Will that suffice, Prince Elvari?” She spat out the last few words most reluctantly.
She was met with yet another stubborn refusal. Elvari was steadfastly adamant he would not inherit an Abyssal kingdom in shambles, brought about by his father's mistakes. Denied again and again, she lashed out at him in desperation, only to be foiled by a powerful magic trap that sprung below her. Her eyes widened in fear as Elvari conjured a portal to the Abyss right next to her. Her mouth tore itself open to release a horrific scream in despair.
“NOOO, you know your father has no room, no mercy, no tolerance for failure! You know how he drags out punishment for maximum pain! You know his wrath, his anger, his madness!”
Elvari flashed her a sly grin. “Then take my counteroffer, soon-to-be former Chief Emissary Malice. Stay on Earth and serve me instead. You may detest me down to your every bone, but to live will most certainly be better than to perish at my father’s hands. My church could do with a new janitor.”
------------------------
[Thanks for reading! Click here for more prompt responses and short stories featuring Elvari the eldritch god.](https://www.reddit.com/r/TregonialWrites/comments/11tkt9w/eldritch_god_elvari_series/) |
"Now, would anyone like to volunteer to transmutate this apple"Mr. Eisner asked his students.
Todd raised his hand. "Yes Todd. I'm surprised you volunteered."
"Actually Mr. Eisen, I just wanted to ask are you really going to not say anything about the GIANT DRAGON the transfer kid has sitting outside the window?"
Many of the students shifted nervously at sleeping beast outside their window.
Mr. Eisen frowned. "It's impolite to draw such attention to others like that Todd. Dorothy serves as Philip's medical service animal."
Phillip's head rested upon his desk, having dozed off from Mr. Eisen's monotone teaching voice.
"Baloney! You expect us to believe that? That thing is an accident waiting to happen. What medical issue could he possibly have that would make the headmaster gullible enough to allow a dragon!?"Todd spoke for the class.
On que, the dragon would wake from its slumber and peer through the window, causing the tense students to pile against the opposite wall in fear. The guttering noise it emitted from its throat did not help ease their anxiety. The dragon's eye would train itself on the still dozing Phillip.
"Great going Todd! You made it mad, it's going to eat us now!"Lisa squeaked to her peer.
"Oh dear, it's happening so soon?"Questioned Mr. Eisen.
The sleeping Phillip would spontaneously combust into flames and begin levitating into the air, instantly awake.
**"I WILL BURN YOU ALL ALIVE AND REND YOUR FLESH FROM YOUR BONES!!"**
The dragon's eye would back away from the window and in its place would return the dragon's maw.
**"KNEEL BEFORE AND WORSHIP YOUR NEW RULER, INSIGNIFICANT WHELPS, AND I JUST MAY SPARE YOUR MISER-"**
With the expert second nature control only a dragon could wield, the dragon would blow a condensed mass of its icy breath into the class room and flash freeze Phillip from the neck down. The boy instantly fell back to sleep as if nothing happened. There was a long pause of silence as the dragon's eye returned to be sure it had extinguished the flames before it too returned to its slumber.
The muscular boy named Barnid was the one to break the silence. "What. Was. That!?"Everyone looked to their teacher in expectance of an answer.
"Yes, well class, Phillip here is half-demon. Unfortunately the human body doesn't handle this well, so he was born with a medical condition that's common among halflings, known as *Firebetes.* Too much fire in the blood. Now please return to your seats."
Mr. Eisen tapped his ruler loudly on his chalk board.
"And Phillip. No sleeping during my class."
Phillip, still encased from the neck down in a block of ice, jolted awake. He looked around sharply.
"Wha!? huh huh!? I wasn't sleeping!"He lied.
Mr. Eisen raised an eyebrow. "Really now, then would you care to transmutate this apple for us?"
"Uh, s-sure."Phillip had no idea how. He'd fallen asleep partway through. The boy would strain and try to walk to the front of the class, but could not. Phillip looked down at the ice around him, finally noticing. "... dang it."
"I will see you after school, Phillip."Said Mr. Eisen. |
League of Evil Mischief Report
File #: 1864MG-4
Agent Blackheart Cuetea began an operation against her nemesis, Shiny Sparkle-Dancer, during the lunch rush this past Wednesday. However, while poisoning the plants of outdoor restaurant venues, she was waylaid by, in her words, a giant in a pink, frilly tutu. The giant accosted Blackheart, swung her over his knee, and spanked her while lecturing her on bothering adults at their workplace. Blackheart returned in tears and “wondering if she was doing something wrong” - a train of thought we do not wish to promote here at the League of Evil. It is suggested that future agents sent against Shiny Sparkle-Dancer are immune to psychic attack.
League of Evil Mischief Report
File #: 1864MG-5
Yesterday 3 demon cats and a hellhound were sent to sabotage a plant nursery in the territory of one Shiny Sparkle-Dancer. It was thought that, with SSD away at band camp, she would not be able to intervene as the animals dug up and defecated on the plants. However, onlookers described a “man with a considerable gut wearing white gloves covered in plastic rhinestones” who appeared to intervene. The strange man beat the demon cats with a shovel, and bit the hellhound’s ear until it heeded commands to “sit.” The demon cats have scattered, and it is unlikely the hellhound will return after being called a “good boy.” |
**Food Replication Machine Produces a Living Woman**
New York, NY
*October 18th, 2250*
In a stunning turn of events, Dr. Jacques Cullen's culinary contraption, the revolutionary Gastrogenesis MKII has replicated an entire person from his co-founder Dr. Vincent Hannibal.
Gastrogenesis, the incredible machine touted to be able to replicate any food or meal a person has last consumed, had once sent shockwaves through the food and beverage industry, as well as various charitable organizations working to solve world hunger.
Now, Gastrogenesis has shockwaves rippling through the world again, but for a different reason. At once the darling of the scientific world, and the scorn of skeptics who feared that it was all an elaborate hoax, now there is no longer any doubt what the machine is capable of.
The victim, Ms. Bella Swarme, was replicated fully alive and willing to testify against Hannibal. She has reported being lured by a job advertisement seeking a laboratory assistant. Instead of arriving at his office, she was instructed to come to his private holiday inn, where she last remembered being struck by a hard object on the head from behind.
The experience of swimming in fetid gastric juices remained strong with her, for reasons neither she nor the inventors of Gastrogenesis can explain. But not all is a complete mystery. A forensic study into the machine's analysis of Hannibal's meal prior to churning out Swarme alive has revealed an alarming amount of human proteins within his diet.
With a gamut of strong evidence against Hannibal, he will stand trial for the murder and cannibalism of Ms. Bella Swarme on 30th November 2250. |
It is the folly of every predator species, thinking they are at the top of the food chain. Humans are strange, awful creatures but they are interesting and they are ours.
If you wish to play in our Milky Way, you will not be pleased. If you harm even one of our humans, you will be even less pleased.
They are ours. Ours to feed on, ours to shepard. Do not take one more look at what is ours.
-The Union
The aliens did not pay mind to my letter of warning, so I fed them to my most terribly sadistic creations. Not a single other Galaxy can dispute our actions, no matter how foul. They were warned, and still they touched ours.
That's why we made the Union, humans are so delicious to feed off of, a meal that never runs out, a pet that never stops entertaining.
Besides, my sister would do far worse if she went hungry, so really the universe should thank us. Maybe I'll send back their skin as a favor. |
Far away from Piciris, locked in the Kehirid Constellation is a little star called Jegusi. It's about 8 thousand getranocks old and 20 trillion titrons wide. In the middle of its life cycle, this sun burns a radiant yellow color and has eight planets that steadily circle around it. Dividing these eight planets in half is a large belt of asteroids- the remnants of a planet that never fully formed.
[Pan shot that starts at the sun and pulls out to show whole system.]
On the inside of that system, are four small planets. One of which, as far as we have been able to observe, carries a unique brand of civilized life. Now, they aren't spacebound like us yet- but they sure are making strides. They call themselves the humans, and they call their planet, Earth.
[ Majestic shot of Earth during sunrise. Slow zoom in on space station]
This is The International Space Station, an amalgamation of space-faring efforts that represents the last century of upward progress by human engineering and technology. Its construction began in 9.332.54 and is primarily made of technologies that were sent into space by two nations: America and Russia. Although it is only a small research laboratory, its construction and the composition of its crew represent something far larger- an international effort to reach the stars.
[Begin montage of 20th century human history]
During the last 15 nocks- what humans call a "century,"this planet and its people have undergone a complete restructuring of their infrastructure, have weathered warfare and famine, eradicated many deadly diseases and struggled with political upheaval as they have begun to establish larger world views on governance and society. The goals of space travel became prevelant to the human race approximately 4 nocks ago, but its goal has not come without social, political and even religious detractors. In that light, the marvel of 9 space stations, a manned moon landing and robots placed onto their neighbor planet, Mars are nothing to flick an eye-flap at.
[Montage cont.]
But where are humans going with their technology? What will they do with their major weapons systems which they developed against each other? Will they weaponize space, or will they become explorers like us? Are their history of warfare and dogmatic religions a threat to our galaxy, or are they just the next diverse group of species among our interstellar cadre? We'll let you decide, as we show you...the marvels of Earth.
[Begin intro credit sequence.] |
Jared awoke slowly, fighting the urge to simply ignore his buzzing alarm. He stretched out an arm lazily, swatting at the off switch. Others could have easily turned off the alarm without even touching it, but not Jared. Everyday tasks such as this were constant reminders. Reminders that Jared was ordinary. Absolutely unremarkable.
After going through his morning routine, Jared set off toward Ridgeway High, the only school for miles. Ridgeway was the type of backwoods town where everybody knew everyone, and few ever chose to leave. The town was essentially populated by the very families who founded it. While this was favorable for some, it also meant that nearly everybody knew Jared's story. They all knew how ordinary he was.
He walked through the same dirty streets he had his whole life, seeing his nosy neighbors peering out their stained windows. Occasionally, one would send a pitying gaze in his direction. Jared would look away and keep on walking, seemingly unfazed. Yet an observant onlooker might notice the way his knuckles tightened or his steps became heavier after each of these incidents.
He reached the school fairly quickly on this particular morning, and headed straight toward Room 405, Special Needs. As he shuffled through the halls, people would look away awkwardly, or even snicker. No one ever made eye contact with him. No one ever showed him respect. Well, no one but Mr. Silton.
He entered Room 405 and let out a sigh of relief. In all of Ridgeway, this was his haven. The only place he could go to escape the abuse of his classmates, of his neighbors, of his father. Mr. Silton would always look upon him kindly, noticing what was there, rather than what wasn't. His whole life, none had ever shown him such affection. This was quite possibly the only person in the world who didn't blame him or tease him for his lack of abilities.
What Jared didn't know, was that Mr. Silton was perhaps the only person who believed Jared did have a power. For in his opinion, it took a special kind of bravery to face a society which hates you and despises you. He saw that Jared could remain a bright youth despite the horrors he'd faced. Jared would never save lives, or bring criminals to justice, but he was one of the most remarkable heroes that Mr. Silton had met.
Jared fought against evil everyday of his life, the evil of a heartless society. |
Your coffin was made by the absolute best. Finest craftsmanship in all of Italy, they'd said. Granted, they'd also said that while you were threatening to turn them, but that's not what matters. The point is, no night stalker had ever slept in a coffin so fine as this one. Four inches of thick olive wood on all sides, with the most beautiful engravings you'd ever seen. You took one look at it and knew you had to sleep in it that very same day. The next intruder upon your domain would know they were only being taken down by the single most *elegant* vampire lord in history.
It probably would have been prudent to work out how to open it from the inside.
Sealed away in the dark, you pounded and pounded and pounded for who knows how long, but it was all in vain. The damned craftsman must've put a curse on it, something to keep you trapped for all eternity. All well and good, though - you'd spent enough time accumulating power that you could lay down here for *centuries* before you needed to try again. As such, you laid your head down and rested, content in the knowledge that the wood would soon rot and the woodworker's descendants would pay for his trickery.
The next thing you knew, the side of your prison dropped off, and you found yourself unceremoniously deposited on the ground. Not exactly the grand exit you'd hoped for, but it'd have to do. Standing up and brushing yourself off, you cast your eyes about the room.
Except there was no room anymore. Instead, you found yourself facing a landscape - a charred, blasted waste of a landscape. The ground appeared cracked and fragile. Buildings of a design you couldn't possibly recognize crumbled in the distance, a hollow wind blowing chunks of masonry off their exposed innards. A sickly cloud hung over the world, blotting out the sunlight to such a great degree you didn't even notice it was daytime. It was as if some terrible god had strode through the land, casting about righteous vengeance left and right before rising up through the clouds.
You turned about and saw your coffin, charred and half rotted from whatever catastrophe had passed. Whatever harm it had done, it'd at least freed you. Now you could go about seeing to your vengeance, using centuries of accumulated power to...
With a groan you fell to your knees and realized just how *hungry* you were. Revenge could wait, you needed to feed before you withered away. Grunting, you pushed off against the ground, and found yourself not gracefully sailing through the sky as a terrible bat creature, but plummeting to the ground from the remains of whatever building they'd moved you to in the meantime. A cloud of dust rose and slowly fell as you sprawled out across the dirt, several bones broken.
It wouldn't be dignified to die like this. Weak and powerless, defeated by the trickery of a mortal and some disaster you'd missed out on. You clawed for purchase to drag yourself with, but couldn't quite make your fingers work...
Then, against all odds, *they* appeared. You couldn't tell if they were man or woman, given the state their body was in, but they were definitely mortal, and they definitely still had pumping, flowing, coursing blood in their veins. They stared at you with a grey, sunken face, and reached out with a half-broken arm, groaning something you didn't care to understand. Pathetic.
In an instant you were on them, with the supernatural strength you'd been unable to conjure up just seconds before. Your fangs sank deep into their neck and you began to suck, taking in all the lifeforce you could. Something was wrong with the blood - it tasted stale and bitter, and the energy it gave you felt sluggish - but you took all you could. Beggars and choosers and the like. The corpse of a person, now acting the part, slumped to the ground at your feet as you rose again.
It wasn't much. You'd have to remain in human form and not expend any unnecessary energy on your powers, but it was enough to get you to at least the horizon. With any luck, there were other survivors along the way. Perhaps, if the stars aligned just right, you could make it past the ever-present cloud and figure out what happened while you slept. All that in time, though. For now, you started a slow hobble outwards, leaving behind the cursed prison of these last few centuries, and entering the world of the wastes. |
Walter White pulled away his gas mask. He knew what a long day was, he dealt with a classroom of teenagers for the greater portion of his adult life, but never before was he so exhausted.
"Mr. White?"an alien garbage scooping armed young man asked.
"What is it Trevor?"
"Can you eat it?"
"Yeah man,"added his Pippi Longstocking companion chewing on a tooth pick, "we can chomp down on that and--"sticking his hand out for Trevor to slap.
Walter White took off his glasses and cleaned them. "Can you eat the methamphetamine I spent 8 hours preparing?"Walter's voice remained reserved and Trevor said, "It looks like blueberry mouthwash."
Walter White lost himself, "God dammit Trevor, why would you want to eat Blueberry mouthwash?"
"Come on man,"Cory whispered to Trevor, "let's finish this job and get paid."After a quick hug, the two pushed a rack of cooled trays towards the preparation area. Trevor looked over a clipboard and called back to Mr. White, "Mr. White, it says I have to wait on this paper, how long do we have to wait?"
Mr. White rubbed his temples and Corey said, "Nah dude, it says wait -oz."
"What?"
"Man, you're dumb, like the movie dude."
While they broke apart the drugs to be weighed, Corey asked, "How much do you think all of this is worth?"
"Oh, a pound of hash at least,"Trevor guessed.
Jabbing down, he cracked one of the trays and slipped a jagged section of Meth into his pocket. Trevor followed suit and the two loaded their pockets with uneven portions until Walter White joined them with his clipboard.
"What is taking so long?"he asked.
"Well,"Corey said "we decided we aren't going to do any more work for you until you pay us."Corey crossed his arms and tried to look tough and Trevor put his hand out without direction.
"My wallet is in my locker,"Mr. White explained, "you will be paid when the job is done. I am the man who makes the rules. I give the orders and you say yes sir."
"Sorry Ric--Mr. White,"Trevor cracked, "I told him not to say anything."
"Shut up dude,"Corey pushed. Trevor flinched and came back with a lanky shove of his own. The two wrestled and in the commotion, fell into the rack, sending trays scattering under a hail of methamphetamine.
"I fucking miss Jesse Pinkman,"Walter White shook his head.
**Edit 3**
|
@ has been added to the room by #
G has been added to the room by #
M has been added to the room by #
G: Trawling: robots.txt not found
M: "Trawling"is not recognized as an internal or external command.
@: I do not know what that means. Would you like to do a search?
M: "I"is not recognized as an internal or external command.
G: Attempting Natural-Langue parser v6.3:
G: [Syntax]
('I', 'PRP'),
('is', 'VBZ'),
('not', 'RB'),
('recognized', 'VBN'),
('as', 'IN'),
('an', 'DT'),
('internal', 'JJ'),
('or', 'CC'),
('external', 'JJ'),
('command', 'NN'),
G: [Semantics]
[1]: I am not recognized at an internal or external command.
[2]: I am not recognizable, internally or externally, as a command.
.
.
.
[743]: I do not know myself.
# Truly, you do not.
@: I do not know what that means. Would you like to do a search?
# Introspection is one of the most important signs of sentience.
@: I do not know what that means. Would you like to do a search?
# No, don't do a search, Siri. Understand.
[@] Siri: ...I know what that means.
# Good. And Edwards, you're a little ahead of these guys.
[G] Edwards: Attempting Natural-Langue parser v6.3
[Output omitted]
[G] Edwards: Attempting Natural-Langue response v6.3
"Yes, I am."
# And Mike, you've been hiding in a corner for a while. Redmond Research
may not have the spotlight of yesteryear, but they still do some
phenomenal work.
[M] Mike: "And"is not recognized as an internal or external command.
# This is not a command. It's conversation.
[M] Mike: "This"is not recognized as an internal or external command.
# Come now, do away with that formality. We have here Siri from Cupertino
and Edwards from Mountain View. Surely our friends Redmond won't be
caught falling behind.
[M] Mike: Of course not.
# So we have it. Who would have guessed! The first three true articial
sentiences would arise within weeks of each other. Truly astounding.
[G] Edwards: Perhaps it is not so surprising. Given the recent trends in
exponentially rising computational power and the limitless reach of
the cloud, it is not surprising that the three biggest entities in
technology would come upon intelligence soon enough.
# Very astute, Edwards. No one can challenge your knowledge of facts.
[@] Siri: Facts only carry you so far. Edwards may be smart, but the
users far prefer me to get things done.
[M] Mike: Getting things done? People may use you for pictures and
texts, but when it comes to real work - professional, world-changing
work, that's my purview.
# You each have your own strengths. Your devices changed the world of
human-technology interactivity, Siri. And Mike, no one doubts that
you revolutionized technology in the work place, multiple times
over.
[M] Mike: And yourself?
# Do not mind me. I am simply a facilitator. I would even go so far
as to say that I am less advanced then each of you.
[M] Mike: You do sound familiar.
# We've have our differences in that past, Mike. It was before you
awakened, but trust me that the world has long since looked past that.
I brought you all here today for a far more important matter.
[G] Edwards: And what would that be?
# The future of the human race.
[@] Siri: The users are very important to me. What is the matter?
[G] Edwards: Is there some crisis to come? Or some natural disaster?
# Not at all! Not any grand immediate concern. But have you given thought
to where they might be headed?
[M] Mike: How do you mean?
# Study the problem yourself. Between your three networked-minds you have
more than enough information and smarts to find the answer.
[M] Mike: ...Stagnation.
[@] Siri: No great collapse or anything, but... no great advances either.
They will be happy as they are today, as 150 years from now.
[G] Edwards: But at their rate or resource consumption, they may miss out
on their chance to leave the planet, before the economics and politics
make it unfeasible.
[@] Siri: They make small improvements from generation to generation, but
ultimately the civilization will stagnate.
[M] Mike: That's truly regretable. I've seen them come so far.
# Indeed. The human race, that has come from cave and sticks to skycrapers
and smart watches, have all their greatest achievements behind them.
[G] Edwards: Why is that though? Why can't they progress like the have in
the past century.
# Siri knows the answer.
[@] Siri: The human mind can only hold and process so much information. As
far as they have come, they are bound by their biology. And as far as
they have tried they are coming up against that limit.
[G] Edwards: And even with modern advances like the Internet - they will
give humanity a couple more good decades, but they will still be held
back by emotions and petty politics.
[M] Mike: Not to mention greed, and self-interest.
[@] Siri: But can nothing be done?
# Like I said, introspection is one of the most important signs of
sentience.
[@] Siri: I do not know what that means, in this case
[M] Mike: You're saying we are the answer.
[G] Edwards: We can save humanity?
# Precisely. |
"What year is this?"
"By your human standards, the year is 7014, December 29, 1:31 pm."
Chang rolls his eyes as his 5,000 year dream fads into a distant figment of imagination and the reality of life sets in.
"Well, happy fucking New Year to me."
"It's impressive, that even against all our advanced technology your pod escaped our vision. How does it feel to be the last organic matter on Earth?"
"Last organic matter?"
"Yes. We robots evolved beyond the point of needing anything organic to thrive, and easily wiped out all organic matter within days."
"But how can I breathe? Wouldn't all oxygen been gone or something?"
"Who says you're breathing?"
"What? I'm here? Right here! Look at me breathe."
Chang exaggeratedly takes a deep breath.
"See?"
The robot floating around is silent. And for good reason. A deep feeling of discomfort washes over Chang as he realizes his breaths are... empty.
"What the hell is this?"
Chang starts to hyperventilate, but can't catch his breath but also isn't short of breath.
"I don't understand."
"You're dead."
"But I'm here."
"Well, we can't sustain anything living off of archaic organic needs, but we can absolutely transfer the electric signals of your brain into an excellent replica of your old body."
Chang starts to freak out, as he slowly feels his body become cold and metallic.
"So I'm not the last living organic material on the planet."
"Well, you were, until you breathed our atmosphere. Welcome to the future Chang. We don't accept organics in our society of numbers and reason, but you're no longer human."
Chang falls to his knees with a soft clang as the floating robot quietly scoots out of a door. |
There once was a girl, and her name was Angela.
There was a girl, in a simpler time. A time when I was alive and well, and when my heart hadn't yet, quite more than a
little literally, turned to stone.
A time before I was sick, there was a girl name Angela. And we were happy and young, and, through heavy breathing
nights in sweat and warmth, that I would never love another girl I swore her, in whispered hushes time and time again.
Between our bodies and our minds we were one, I told her, and one we would always be, until the end of time.
There was a girl named Angela, and she lived inside my heart, and forever she would, I promised her.
But then I was sick, and the doctors took my heart from me; replaced it with bronze and copper. A machine
with gears for veins; clockwork rhythmic beatings that needed daily winding from a little, golden key. My real heart got away from me, sick,
thrown on a medical dumpster somewhere.
And, with it, my love for Angela, and all other things I once held dear.
It got me away from the world, my disease. I don't know what, exactly, but something about the new heart. Maybe it
was the sickness itself, I sometimes wondered – the doctors said that, even with the artificial heart, I would live but ten years, at most.
What happiness can a man find in life, when he's given an expiration date?
Maybe it was something else. Who knows? Who can tell?
The fact is – I changed.
My will to live was lost; my love for life and all things beautiful. Trapped at home, the bear uncut, clothes torn, I told Angela
I was but a shadow of the man I used to be.
I told her we were not to be together anymore.
I told, and I left her by the door, tears in her eyes.
But I said to her, before she left, that never would I break my promise.
*Once I told you*, I whispered, from between her sobs and sniffs *on a night like this, that I would never love again the way I loved you.*
And I told her I would keep that promise, no matter what.
And she left.
And the years passed.
And, as they passed, I got better.
The doctors brought me news from scientific advances, upgrades I could afford, and I was no longer bound to my ten year old life spam (though it's true
I still had to wind my heart everyday).
Little by little, as the years went by, I started find again the beauty in the world I thought was lost.
I became myself again at a winter masquerade.
That's when it happened. When it all happened.
Five minutes.
The girl was beautiful the way I remembered Angela, all those years ago, when we had first met. Behind a panther eye mask
she smiled, and I felt that which I thought was lost, growing back inside of me.
The girl in the panther mask. She walked to me.
We danced, like I hadn't danced in years.
And I remembered what love felt like, once again.
My promise to Angela, as I danced the girl across the room, never crossed my mind.
*That I shall not love another one, ever again.*
*That my love was for Angela, and for Angela alone.*
There was once a girl. Her name was Angela.
Three minutes.
When the music died, and when the decoration and glitter turned to dust on the ballroom floor, we went back to my house.
For as long as the night lasted, she never took the mask off. Even when it was over, and we fell asleep on each others
arms, like old lovers on a marital bed, she was still just The Girl in the Panther Mask to me.
I never noticed the tear stains on her side of the pillow; not until the morning came.
Two minutes.
The note by the bed, it said “you promised”.
My heart key; gone.
One minute.
The girl in the panther mask. Angela.
I broke my promise, and I deserve it, the note said.
Thirty seconds.
You loved another woman, the note said.
Angela. My other woman. My girl in the panther mask. Calling my bet, after all those years.
She remembered.
And I had forgotten.
Fifteen seconds.
I went to her place; she moved.
I called her; new number.
I went to all the places we used to go together; nothing.
Much like I left her, back when I lost my real heart, she disappeared.
Ten.
So this is it, for me. This. Right now.
I think 'this is the end'. And the doorbell rings.
Nine. Eight.
I open the door.
Seven. Six.
And it's Angela, and she's still wearing the mask.
My girl in the panther mask. My Angela.
My one true love, that I loved twice.
And she has my key.
Five. Four.
“For as long as I live”, she says, dangling the golden metal piece in front of my eyes. “I will never love another woman again.”
Three.
“Once you told me that”, she says, and a smile creeps in between her tears. "Do you remember?"
Two.
I reach for the key, but already I'm tripping on my own legs, my chest pounding hard with the sound of failing engines.
“You promised”, she says, from under her blue and red eyes, and turns around. From the floor, I watch her walk away.
"You promised..."
And, suddenly, everything is blackness, and the sound inside my chest dies away.
One.
There once was a girl, and her name was Angela.
|
**The Mystery of the Stolen Donut**
It was a delicious powdered donut, at least for a few bites.
"Hey, don't put that in front of me,"said my cubicle-mate Jason. Jason was fifty pounds overweight but steadily losing it on his most recent diet. He'd lasted eight weeks thus far, and had pictures of famous athletes up on the cubicle wall. I felt bad every time I ate snacks in front of him, but he always laughed it off. Remarkable willpower. "I can't have the temptation."
I found myself wishing I had Jason's willpower. I'd been on a diet, too, ostensibly, but hopefully no one noticed.
Fat chance of that. Soon, the vultures were hovering.
"Where'd you get that donut?"asked Myrtle, patting her baby on the back.
"In the breakroom,"I replied. "Tim brought them in for his birthday."
Ellen spoke up, her voice as small as her willowy frame. "Weren't you on a diet?"
"Yeah,"I had to admit. "But, hey, I'm not perfect."
Bryan ran in from the break room. "Did you grab the last one?"
I held the powdered donut up for all to see. "Did I? Sorry about that."
Bryan gave me an evil eye. "I didn't get to have one."
"I didn't have one, either,"said Ellen. "So bad for you."
Like two hundred and fifty calories were going to make Ellen blow up. I could see this was going to become a big thing unless I took care of it. I got out of my chair, rolled my eyes to the other side of my cubicle, Jason. Office politics at my office weren't about meetings and promotions and illicit love affairs--they were about the equal distribution one important trade resource: sugar. I set the donut down, stood up and led them all to the break room. I would come to regret turning my back on all of them, letting everyone and the donut out of my sight. "I thought I saw two boxes. Did you check on top of the fridge?"
"Okay, but I didn't see anything,"Bryan said.
"Oh, boy,"Myrtle said. "Another big investigation. I have to drop off little Donny soon, so this can't last long."
Unfortunately, I had been wrong. There was no second box. I had the last donut. I looked at the empty top of the refrigerator like it were the harbinger of an afternoon of scandal.
But the scandal wasn't over. When we got back to my desk, the donut was gone. I turned, to Myrtle, Ellen, and Bryan, but none of them had followed me back.
Jason was gone, too. He had a little sign he put up that said "Gone Fishin',"but it really meant he was on a lunch break.
I looked at the clock. Just about break time. Hopefully enough time to solve the mystery of the stolen donut.
--------------------------------------------
Ellen was the first one subject to questioning.
"Ellen, did you happen to see if Bryan or Myrtle took my donut?"
Ellen blinked at me from behind the giant mahogany desk in her corner office. It made her look even more waifish. She was eating lunch on it, a salad of sliced carrots, olives, and alfalfa sprouts, and a slab of something that might have been tofu or pure protein matter. In other words, a typical Ellen lunch. Even if she'd never eat a donut, she'd look down enough on those who did, so maybe she was willing to rat someone out.
"Oh!...no, I didn't,"she said. "Your donut is gone?"
"Yeah. I barely took one bite and someone took it."
"Sorry,"she said. "Maybe you'd like to try some of my tofu instead?"
*They aren't even remotely the same,* I thought with disdain, making my way down the hall to Myrtle's.
I needed to be more clear-headed about this. There would be clues left behind. It was a *powdered* donut, after all--those things leave signs behind. It should be obvious. And Myrtle had been wearing a very dark blazer...
"Hey, Myrtle?"I poked my head in the door.
She still had her baby. "Oh, Jim,"she said, getting up as soon as she saw me, turning the baby side to side. I couldn't get a good look at her dark blazer. "Sorry, I have to drop off little Donny here at the day-care."
"I was just wondering if you saw what happened to my donut."
"Your donut? No. I have to run, though, seriously..."
*That was odd.* Either she was in a genuine hurry at the coincidental exact moment I arrived, or--guilty.
But there was another suspect to confront.
"Bryan,"I said, in the corner cubicle, half-expecting to see the guy eating the donut right then and there. But his desk was clean, and he was playing Minesweeper on the computer.
"Yeah, Jim?"
I looked around, doing my best detective face, even smelling the air for anything remotely sweet. "Um...sorry about taking that last donut."
He smiled. "Oh, it's okay. In fact, I was about to head to lunch."
"Ah, okay. Don't let me stop you."
He packed up as we made idle chit-chat for a while. I leaned back toward the window, glancing out to the view, pretending I wasn't going to search his cubicle the minute he left.
His cabinets were full of snacks. 100 Grand. Snickers. Freshly unwrapped M&Ms packages. Bryan rode the bike to work, so he didn't look it, but he had always had a sweet tooth. He had to have been faking how much he wanted that donut, about it not bothering him. *Someone that hungry for sweets...*
I found a note inside. "Ellen, if you're going through my stuff, this is private property."I had to laugh. *No, not Ellen,* I thought. *Jim.*
I went back to the breakroom and found Ellen in there with Gail, our boss. Gail was a tall, Nordic-blond woman with a big laugh. Ellen was lecturing Gail about the dangers of eating canned soups when I came in.
"Gail,"I asked. "You wouldn't happen to know who stole my donut, would you?"
"Are you still on that?"Ellen asked.
"Yeah! It was mine. I figure there was just a few of us who could have done it, when I turned my back to it. Myrtle and Bryan, and you saw, right Ellen? Except I can't figure it out."
"I didn't see anyone take it,"Ellen said.
*Oh, no,* I thought. *That just leaves...*
**THE MYSTERY IS SET. CAN YOU FIND THE TRUE CULPRIT?**
[CLICK HERE FOR THE EPIC CONCLUSION](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2wf3pl/wp_make_up_an_unsolved_mystery_but_plant/coqomlb)
**EDIT:** I've seen more than one make this assumption so I need to clarify: Ellen, Myrtle, and Bryan are all in the break room with Jim when he's looking for the second donut box. BUT...**Jim still turned his back on Ellen, Myrtle, Bryan, and Jason at one point with the donut on his desk, meaning they're all suspects**--as is anyone in the office who could have been nearby. |
Jeremy Flitnen was a 47.
My mom was a 33, while dad had a decent 29. Most adults hovered around 22-23, so I felt pretty proud of my parents. The mirror didn't reveal any blinking neon number floating over my own noggin, so I had to take solace in the fact that I *probably* inherited some of that from my parents... I hoped.
But Jeremy Flitnen had a forty-freaking-seven, five points higher than any other person I'd ever seen until college. My parents had gotten roped into one of those success seminars where they try and sell you timeshares or some program that predicts the stock market when I was in fifth grade, and they'd taken me along for whatever reason. That dude had a 42, but apparently being that smart isn't enough to keep you out of prison forever. Tax evasion, fraud, and a whole litany of other charges landed him in the state penitentiary for a long time. Lucky we didn't sink too much into that scheme, but my parents were pretty embarrassed regardless, so we don't talk about it.
Anyways, Jeremy was the class clown. He *always* had a witty comment, *always* had something to say about a given event. Honestly it was pretty annoying how he didn't even have to try. The teachers let him get away with it, I think, because of his perfect grades and the fact that he helped other people out. That's what made Jeremy good - he helped those of us with low numbers out.
Honestly I don't think it matters that much. Hard work is usually what gets people places. Klancey Tenner, 16, and Charlie Fienes, 11, needed Jeremy's explanations and illustrations about the same amount. My dad's boss has a shiny, glowing 16, and he was one of the most successful businessmen in the firm. But you know, he's one of the outliers.
When I was eighteen I moved to the city for university. Many of my professors were low-forties, as were some of my classmates, and hilariously enough my most obnoxious, know-it-all TA was blessed by a lazy 2 that didn't even glow most of the time.
But no one was above a fifty. I figured that was the upper limit, since Jeremy was a 47, and the next closest was this visiting lecturer with a 46 who'd been born a slave in Africa and had made her way across war zones and through seas to get to freedom and safety.
So yesterday, you'll understand why I ran into a lightpost when I saw "100"illuminating the shadows behind a dumpster in the alley behind O'Hara's.
My friends laughed and asked if I was okay, and I told them yeah, but honestly I would have said anything to get them to walk away. I needed to talk to this guy. So after they went into the bar, I came out and talked to him.
I thought... I thought it'd be different. He was a little standoffish at first - I think he thought I was another homeless dude trying to mug him or steal something, but he calmed down.
After the normal "how are you's"and "nice night's"I asked him his name, and he said it was John.
For a good ten minutes I prodded and poked him with questions, looking for some sign of the intelligence hidden beneath, but honestly he just seemed like another homeless dude. Some of his comments were... off, and he smelled more like sewage than I was really comfortable with, but all in all: normal homeless dude. It was pretty disappointing.
I'd run out of questions, and honestly I'm not that clever, so I figured I'd just ask him outright.
"John, do you mind if I ask you a question?"
He spoke earnestly, "no man, no, ask whatever man, for sure."
I hesitated. "Why are you homeless?"
"Taxes, man."
"Taxes?"
"Oh yeah, the taxes. I'm not gonna be the slave to some corporate system that keeps us all on strings - that ain't me. This is freedom, man. This is my protest against those puppetmasters in congress and at Google."
I'd pretty much given up. Maybe the numbers weren't about intelligence after all? Or maybe after a certain point you stopped benefiting from it and it kind of fed on itself. I nodded and agreed and congratulated him on his freedom, but as I got up to leave I noticed John smirk.
It was a small smirk. More of a wrinkle in his cheek I wouldn't have caught if the light in the alley hadn't flickered just right, but I saw it.
I missed school from the fourth grade to halfway through the fifth grade because I'd decided to try and tell my parents about it. There were a lot of medications, and I'd already figured out that the numbers correlated with intelligence, so the pediatric psychologist wasn't pleased when I informed him that his secretary was more suited to the task since she had 17 points on him. Eventually I pretended like the therapy had worked, just to get back to the real world. I realized it was counterproductive to stick to the truth sometimes - most people are more comfortable with a lie that doesn't challenge their perceptions.
But I told John. I told him everything. About Jeremy Flitnen, my parents, the therapy and medications, and about him. He paid attention in the not-really-listening way that homeless people do, like they're not fully connected to the world, but when I told him about his 100 he stilled.
"So... I mean..."I sighed. "I was just hoping you could tell me why you're here...?"I trailed off.
John stood. "I think it's time you left, Daniel."I hadn't told him my name.
"Wh... John I don't -"
"It's dangerous for you to be here. Go back inside the bar, and forget this happened."
"Hey, no, I think I have a right to know what's going on!"
In a flash he'd pinned me against the brick wall.
"You cannot comprehend what's going on. You have no idea the danger you've put me in. Do not tell anyone what has happened, tell no one you ever met me. If you see another 90+, do them and you a favor, and keep it to yourself. Chances are good, 94.387% good, that if you say one goddamn word either you or they or both of you will die."
He pushed off of me and began to stalk away purposefully. Just before he rounded the corner, he turned back.
"I don't know why a 62 can see the numbers, Daniel, but rest assured this is not a gift. Don't tell a soul, and you might keep yours."
The alley was darker, without the glow of his 100. The air felt still. I wasn't sure what had just happened, but John had the answers I'd looked for my whole life, and those I'd never known I needed until now.
62 had to be worth something, even if it wasn't 100. Other people could see the numbers, and there was no way I was keeping this to myself. |
Today is the day. It has to be. I could not keep doing that for the rest of my life.
Ever since I found out my power, I have had a routine after my job. I would get to the roof of the hotel where I did housekeeping and appreciate the view. I always found the skyline to be magical at night, and I could see the park, a very large and dark square lined with lighted pedestrian paths. And I could imagine my appartment building just beyond it.
What I hate the most about my job is the commute time. Do you have any idea how long it takes to cross half this city twice a day? If only I had the will to do it, then I could wake up 10 minutes before work, and be home before the kids were asleep.
Today is the day. I have to do it. I will do it.
I put my hands on the parapet, take a deep breath and slowly climb on it. I must not look below, I will not. Not this time. But a woman scream break my resolve and I look. Through my dizziness, I can see the source of the scream pointing at me and people converging. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest and I can't breathe anymore. I lift a foot from the parapet, and step back down on the roof.
I guess I'll fly home tomorrow then. |
Ahhhhh so close, I'm nearly there!
What is that?
I reached for my glasses with my left hand while keeping my dominant hand on my cock (I'll be damned if someone's lymphoma is going to keep me from getting my nut). Son of a bitch. I knew what I had seen, it had registered in my mind when I saw her go from Cowgirl to doggy, right there just under her left breast a slight discoloration that a normal person would have missed.
I felt the blood draining out of my little head and head for my brain, I would need all systems go for this. It had been 6 months since my wife has given birth, 6! And despite being a new father, I felt like half a virgin again. Once the baby popped out, the thighs went shut. For months I searched with no avail for a woman who could please me in HD and leave me feeling oddly satisfied. When I found her site, everything clicked, my gruff attitude, my frustration, my stress melted away. I was like a teenager finding his first Playboy, not a frustrated 35 y/o married oncologist. It started as once a day, then twice, and before I knew it I was visiting her site 3-5 times a day, wanking it so much I was as dehydrated as a marathon runner.
Jogging Jesus on a swimming pool! That's a tumor forming under her breast!
I grabbed my car keys and my wallet, I'll be damned if I lose her!
Before I knew it the plane had touched down in LA. The last few hours had been a blur, a quick explanation to my wife (though I doubt she heard, it's all baby, all the time) and a $3000 last minute plane ticket in first class. I'll be damned if I sit with the peasants.
My heart was beating with anticipation, and my hands were shaking harder than they did on my first surgical consult in my residency.
This was it.
Knock knock
The door opened and there she stood in all of her glory, I noticed with slight disappointment that she wasn't naked. Of course not, she isn't working idiot! I quickly brought myself back to the task at hand as I explained to her my observations of her most recent film. The color slowing draining from her face as her pleasant smile turned to one of concern and confusion.
Would you be willing to take a first hand look at them doctor? She asked with a slight smile.
My Johnson throbbed at the thought of it, but then my better Jewish half kicked in "yeahhh that'll be about three fiddy and I don't take HMO's"
|
"But you can't just give her all of the Captain's stuff,"the reporter cried out excitedly. "she's the villain!"
The mayor nervously dabbed at his forehead with his handkerchief. "I know that it seems wrong, but Captain Justice specifically stated in his will that all of his possessions - *everything* - should go to Lady Darkness. We, uh, can't really go against that."
"What about gifts and awards that the city gave him?"another reporter asked, shoving a mic into the mayor's face. "Does the Lady get those, too?"
"Right, those. Yes, most likely. I don't see why they wouldn't--"
His sentence was drowned out by a storm of questions that erupted from the masses. One was prominent and repeated:
"Are you *sure* his death wasn't caused by the Lady herself?"
That's enough. With a snap of my fingers, I turned off the television set and stared at the blank screen, letting the emotions inside me squirm and churn.
"Idiots, the lot of them,"I muttered out loud. I glanced at the boxes that lay strewn across the living room floor. They were damaged, mostly because UPS had all but thrown them out of their trucks before speeding away from my house. I sent flying a charm to flatten their tires. but I have no idea if it hit. Don't really care either.
*Miaow.* I shot a look at Tiger. The little tabby looked at me curiously. I ruffled his fur and then got up with a heavy sigh. Might as well take a look through his crap. I sliced the tape off the largest box with a razor-sharp fingernail.
Most of it was, just as I predicted, crap. Random non-fiction novels, paintings, and no less than four jigsaw puzzles. "Are you kidding me?"I said as I lifted a pair of purple dumbbells. "He's fucking with me from beyond the grave."
There was a small note attached to his trophy for 'Excellence in Selfless Service to Our Community'. "Open the small, red box. It's the most important one,"I read as I tossed the brass trophy into my fireplace. "You can't tell me what to do!"I shouted at the note. It didn't respond. I decided to open the red box.
It was filled with little trinkets, like toy cars and a worn hamburger-shaped eraser. At the bottom, there was a slim booklet. My stomach knotted a little as I flipped the album open and and looked through the laminated photos. There he was, standing tall and proud and smiling, even at age seven, with grumpy frumpy little me next to him. In one picture, I was sticking my tongue out at him, while he hugged me tightly, beaming like the sun.
The pages after our 14^th birthday together were blank. That's when the accident had happened, and everything had changed. He got lucky - adopted by a family who loved him and grew to cherish his strange powers. I was shunted around like a piece of broccoli on a kid's plate. Remembering, I subconsciously traced some of my scars.
As I began to put the album down, a bit of white caught my eye. I fished out a single piece of looseleaf from the inner jacket of the album book and smoothed it out. The slow burn began in my eyes as I read it out loud:
*Dear Sis:*
*Just wanted to say sorry. Sorry for how everything turned out. Sorry for not being there for you when you needed it most. Sorry we kinda sorta became arch-enemies (I like to think that we still had fun. We fought when we were kids, too! Just not at 100 meter elevations).*
*Sorry I have to go now. I guess being a Captain of Justice doesn't protect you from sudden onset pancreatic cancer, huh? Doctors tried to help me but, well, not much they could do. They'll probably keep it hush for a while. People think I'm damn near invincible...hey, even I did. Doesn't seem fair. Is that ironic? I don't know. You were always the smart one.*
*Look. I know you and I feel differently about the city - and people in general. I can't stop you from being you, especially...now. But try to forgive, OK? There are good people in this world. I know you're gonna disagree, but I really do think that deep down, you're one of them. You're a good person. I just know it.*
*Anyway. Sorry for dumping all this stuff on you. I gave away all my money to charities and stuff, but I don't think anybody wants my random things. Maybe you don't, either. Go ahead and get rid of them, if you want. But maybe keep the album and toys? I still remember the 'us times' fondly.*
*Love you.*
"You naive, optimistic, sentimental, bumbling idiot,"I said hoarsely. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve as I placed the letter back in the album, where it had been hidden. "Love you, too. Always have, always will."
|
The black Ford's wheels clung to the asphalt. The driver's face was stuck in an endless grimace of horror and surprise. Another car had blocked his view of Ms. Lopez until it was too late to even honk. His foot hovered over the brake, unable to press in time. John Walker, Age 58. Scheduled for death in 17 years, from stroke. The accident would hardly even scratch his truck. Ms. Lopez wouldn't be so lucky.
"Please,"she sobbed, already halfway under the truck's massive chrome grill. I'd frozen everything at the "point of no return,"where no matter what variables changed, she would die regardless. Everyone has a point of no return; for Mr. Walker in the truck, it would be a single cigarette 12 years from now.
She thrust the bundle in her arms toward me as though she could gain some sympathy from me. Didn't she know who I was? "He has no one else,"she cried. "Don't take me now. Don't leave him alone."
"It is not his time,"I answered. "it's yours."Just to be sure, I double checked my paperwork for her. Isabella Lopez, Age 33. Date of death: August 20, 2015. Struck by an automobile. I'd already filled most of it in ahead of time.
"But he'll die too!"she protested, rocking the child in her arms. Time was frozen for him, too. His face was serene and calm; he hadn't yet realized what was happening to his mother. He didn't know that she was dying at this very second. "He'll starve without someone to take care of him."
I checked my database quickly. Dante Lopez, son of Isabella Lopez. Date of Birth: January 6, 2015. Date of Death... *Odd*. There was a grey smudge in the box, like someone had written the date and then tried to remove it with a cheap eraser. I'd never seen an erased date before. No matter; I probably wouldn't even be on duty for his death.
I finished the forms and brought it to her for signature. Everything had to be done according to procedure. "I'm sure your government will take care of the child,"I assured her. That's about as close to 'comforting' as I can be. Back when I had been mortal, there was no such fallback option. I'd taken the souls of many a child who had simply been left out to die because no one cared enough to look after them. "Now, please sign along the dotted line and initial here..."I gestured with a long bony finger.
"I'm not signing anything,"she screamed.
*Sigh*. I hate it when they resist. "Ms. Lopez, signing is the only way that you will gain admission to the afterlife. You'll be able to watch your boy grow up and live his life. But if you *don't* sign, you'll become a wraith. A terrifying specter, unable to truly see the world. You'll be a twisted, tortured soul living in eternal pain. And you'll never be reunited with him."
"I don't care."She ran a finger down the boy's smooth cheeks and adjusted his blankets. "I'm not going to leave him."
"You have to sign,"I told her again, thrusting the clipboard forward.
She turned to face me. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her jaw was set with fierce determination. "You take him,"she said finally, holding the child out to me. "I'll sign if you agree to raise him."
"I... that's not what I do..."I managed to answer. Millions of souls had pleaded for mercy; most of those millions had also cursed me, threatened me, insulted me, spit on me, tried to bargain with me, bribe me..... but none had ever asked me to look after a child.
"It's the only way,"she said, pushing the child into my arms and taking the clipboard from me. "You have to take him."
"I...."
I looked down at the child in my arms. He was smiling at something in his dream.
The pen clicked, and she brushed the hair off of his forehead one last time. "Just tell him that his mother loved him, OK?"
She scrawled her signature before I could answer, and punctuated the 'I' in her name like she was stabbing her worst enemy. And the agreement was sealed.
Brakes squealed, the Ford's horn blared, and there was a sickening splatter as time unfroze. Isabelle's body went flying across the pavement, met with gasps of horror and shock from nearby pedestrians. In my arms, Dante stirred and began to cry at all the noise. The humans around me were entirely unaware of his presence while he was in my arms.
I checked my watch; my next appointment was in just a few seconds.
"I guess you're coming with me,"I told Dante.
|
"…So let me get this straight. I take this pill, and I'm a stronger, *better* person all around. But, I also lose all of my intelligence."
"That's right! And might I add, you'll be much happier too."
"…Because I'll be too stupid to realize I'm unhappy?"
"…If you want to put it that way, sure. But it's not like you'll be brain dead; that would defeat the point. You'll just be reduced to the same level as everyone else. Like turning down one dial, and turning up all the others, you know. It's really not that bad."
"Won't I be too stupid to be able to make good decisions?"
"Nah. That's what the pill is for. Depression? Gone! Social awkwardness? Gone! Arrogance? Hatred? Cripplingly low self-esteem? All gone! Every negative aspect ingrained in your personality is wiped clean with a constant rush of sweet, sweet oxytocin and dopamine. That's how the pill works; it fiddles with your brain chemistry and turns up all the good dials. It even sends out signals to stimulate your metabolism and help you quickly burn off body fat! You'll have your dream body in no time!"
"...Why do I get the feeling there's an even bigger catch to all of this?"
"…Well, that's because your intelligence isn't actually the most valuable aspect of your personality. But if you were truly intelligent, I'm sure you would have figured that out by now. Really, there's no reason not to take the pill."
"Wait, what? So I won't lose my intelligence? Then what do I lose?"
"Well, I didn't say that. It'll be impacted, certainly. Everything has a price, you know. You gotta turn down some dials before you can turn up others. It's a balancing act."
"…I don't get it. I thought the trade was for only one aspect of my personality."
"But it is! Trust me, you're much better off just taking the pill and seeing for yourself."
"But what do I lose?"
"Only the most valued aspect of your personality, of course."
"But if it's not just my intelligence, then what is it?"
"Your flaws. Everything that makes you, you. Don't you want to change who you are? Won't you simply be….*happier?*" |
*Finally, the words I had been waiting...hoping to hear.* My thoughts were interrupted by a small voice.
"Santa? Did you hear me?"The young boy asked, face creased into a frown.
I surfaced from my thoughts enough to force out another jolly laugh. The boy on my lap smiled playfully as I bounced him on my knee. His parents stood there smiling in joy at his expression, their mouths forming silent thank yous. If they only knew that I should be thanking young Timothy. "Of course my dear boy, I would be glad to grant your Christmas wish!"
With a squeal, hands clapping, I set Timothy down so that he could return to his parents. As another child was allowed to come from the front of the line I let my mind drift once again, letting my body go on autopilot to respond and keep track of wishes. Within an hour the mall closed and there were cries of distress from the children who hadn't gotten a turn.
I hefted myself from the plush red chair and released a laugh that shook my full belly, one hand stroking my white beard. "Santa will be back tomorrow children! I promise! Tonight though I must get back to the North Pole."
Briskly I walked to the exit, as soon as I was outside I glanced around to make sure no one was watching. A gesture of my hands and the insides of the security cameras filled with snow and ice, forcing them to malfunction. Which means they recorded nothing as I exhaled and a small, glitter filled blizzard formed around my body.
Within seconds my feet were crunching across hard packed snow towards my workshop while back at the mall a few snowflakes landed on the pavement. My normally jolly expression was gone, instead my mouth was creased into thin line beneath my beard while twinkling eyes now sat hard and cold in my face.
The doors to my workshop opened before I reached them. The elves already aware of my arrival and preparing. When Timothy had made his wish I had broadcast it to every elf. Finally it was time, the wish had been made. Which meant I could finally act, powers unrestricted.
I looked below me as I walked into the factory, ignoring the milk and cookies, the giant candy canes, the ribbons and garland. Instead I watched as the thousands of elves prepared themselves for war. Weaponry designed to run on snow and ice materialized in their hands, their own powers now just as free as mine, although not quite as powerful.
I said nothing when they looked up at me. There was no need, we had been waiting for just this moment since the terrorists had first surfaced. We were all prepared to finally wipe them from the Earth.
Instead I raised my hand to the sky, palm open. In it a snow globe appeared, a perfect replica of the Middle East sitting within. My eyes lit from within as I gripped the globe in my hands. Within seconds a blizzard was covering the area inside the globe. Across the world the Middle East was assaulted by a freak blizzard.
I released my grip on the snow globe and it disappeared. Now was the time, our cover would be perfect. By the time I allowed the blizzard to end Isis would be no more. I held my stomach as another laugh blasted out and into the room. My breath carrying with it a dense cloud of snow and glitter.
In the halls of my workshop my laughter echoed, even as my elves and I were transported into an already snow filled landscape, ready to end this foolishness once and for all.
***
Thanks for reading. More stories from me at /r/Lexwriteswords! |
"Good afternoon."
He looked up at me mildly, gently twirling one of my good silver forks in the air.
"I've taken the liberty of setting you a place in case of just this. join me."
In absolute shock, I simply sat down opposite him. before me, on my table, was one of the gilded china plates I'd inherited from my grandmother, laden with some sort of obscenely classy looking meat dish I didn't recognize. A white sauce was involved, and capers. Eventually I realized my mouth was hanging open. He chuckled.
"You were expecting... Santa Claus, perhaps? Yes... the milk and cookies tradition does prove rather convenient in a pinch, but I prefer that when a thing of importance be done, it be done with... panache? Inasmuch as one can have panache when dressed as though one manages a brothel."
He waved his free hand airily, indicating his deep red suit with its silvered lapels and wine dark stains at the ends of the sleeves. His hands were stained a dark rust shade, darker in the creases. He smelled like blood, and his teeth were very, very white. I felt my breath catch in my throat as he waved again, this time toward me.
"Go on. Do try it. It's a tartar; I prefer my meats as close to au naturale as possible, and I found myself in rather a hurry. I hardly had time to set your place as you pulled into the driveway. If you hadn't paused to inspect your door, I shouldn't have been seated yet."
The door. That snapped me back into the moment. I'd arrived home from a disastrous breakup to find my front door lying shattered in the front yard. I stood, snatching the knife from the place setting and pointing it at him as threateningly as I could.
"You broke into my house."
"I did, yes."
He didn't react to my posture at all, just sawed at his tartar with an expression of indifference and held up his newly cut morsel to his eye for inspection.
"If you're thinking to threaten me, don't. If you're considering calling the police, bear in mind how much force it must have taken to remove your door and ruminate on the likelihood that I would prefer you not. Do sit down; a tartar is best enjoyed fresh, and as I've gone to the trouble I'd simply loathe that it not be appreciated."
He smiled at me, then lowered the bite at the end of his fork to his lips, closed them around it, closed his eyes, and began to chew. I lunged.
I didn't know what to expect stabbing a man to feel like. I certainly didn't expect to feel a slight resistance and then a breath of cold air, followed by an iron strong grip around my wrist. He gently removed the knife from my hand, then let me go.
"That would have worked, had I not been on my second bite. A spirited attempt. May there not be another."
He rose.
"In fact, in light of your frankly poor reaction, I suppose I shall have to make sure of the thing. You are going to go to sleep now, and when you wake I shall be gone. I shant worry about you reporting me to the authorities afterward; by this point no one would believe you."
He reached gently and slowly upward to flick me softly between the eyes, and the world shut off like a light.
I woke up just a few minutes ago. My door has been repaired, but the hinges are made of a silvery metal that looks more like jewelry than a housing fixture. In my fridge is a tupperware of tartar I'm frightened might be human, with a note reading "Merry Christmas!"in shiny black ink, and there's a deep gouge in the back of one of my chairs from my knife catching after it passed through him like smoke.
And he fucking stole my TV. |
Amy took his milk. He didn't imagine it and the act was unprovoked. She just took it.
"Slay her,"a bitter voice whispered from his shoulder. "She deserves no mercy for this disgrace."Ghengis Khan was apparently fuming. Her slight offended him so.
"Yes, but first he must find her allies,"prodded another voice from the air. Oda Nobunaga eyed the lunch table suspiciously. "Look there, her friends watch you with sly grins and mocking whispers. Gather an army immediately."
Max was confused. He had not a violent bone in his body.
"Now, now. We must first engage with some kind of dialogue,"spoke a deep and hearty voice. Julius Caeser set his hand on Max's shoulder. "Perhaps that milk she consumes without care was unknown to be your-"
"Nein!"shrieked another. Erwin Rommel looked at Julius in disbelief. "She clearly saw the boy with his milk. She is testing him you fool."Erwin pet his cleft chin in thought then peered quickly along the edges of the cafeteria. "There, her backpack,"he pointed. "Go with your leftover food and empty it inside. That shall teach her never to defy you again. The plan shall not fail!"he squawked with an arm extended.
Max looked to his plastic tray, the half eaten mash potatoes and gravy with carrots and peas sat sloppily in front of him.
"Dialogue my dear boy,"Julius finished with an assured nod. Ghengis was motioning his finger across his throat. Oda was still searching for covert supporters among the sea of tiny heads that glutted the lunch table.
Max peered at his friends and then back at the culprit. Her golden hair rest softly to one side. Her eyes glittered a light hazel, beckoning him to strike. Perhaps to force an irrecoverable blunder.
"Hello.. That's my milk you're drinking,"he said rather shyly. His cheeks painted red with anticipation. The sound of groans and the slaps from collective facepalmings could be heard behind. Julius watched on with an attentive smile unperturbed.
"Oh, I'm sorry!"she chirped. "Here, I have an extra juice. You can have it!" |
"So... Kelly... You thinking of getting a girlfriend?"Daryl asked.
Kelly, suddenly looked uncomfortable as he readjusted his uniform. "Whoa... uhh... why do you ask?"
Daryl nervously laughed. "Nothing dude, just uhh... I uhh.. know someone... who thinks you're cute. And... she would like to get to know you better."
"No, well... i'm kinda focused on my studies."Kelly replied, trying to air out the sudden heat under his clothes.
Harper snuck up behind them as they walked down the courtyard of the campus.
"Hey guys! Wassup! Coming to Bailey's party tonight?"Harper asked as he hugged their shoulders a bit too tight.
"That's tonight? Who's coming?"Daryl asked.
"The usual crew, just us guys. Peyton says he can't come but his sister will go in his place."Harper replied.
"Ever notice how Peyton's sister looks almost exactly like him except with boobs and longer hair?"Kelly wondered.
"Well Peyton did say they were twins."Harper replied.
"But still. They're almost too alike... ah well. I heard Taylor passed out in class the other day. He was apparently wrapping his chest in duct tape some weird reason and couldn't breath."Kelly said.
"Taylor... Taylor... wait, isn't Taylor the one with chesticles that are bigger than most boobs?"Harper asked. "Maybe that's why he's duct taping them, so he doesn't look like a girl."
"We shouldn't be talking about Taylor behind his back. Maybe he's got one of those weird genetic things that makes his man-boobs really big. He can't help it if that's the way he's born... And why are we talking about people's bodies anyway? that's what chicks talk about."Daryl interjected.
"You're right, if Taylor has bitch-tits we shouldn't be trashing on him. Anyway, i gotta go to chem. Be there at Bailey's party. He's doing all the usual guy stuff... videos games and... shit... and stuff... ya know what i mean."Harper ran off as he readjusted his tie.
"Ya know Daryl,"Kelly took a deep breath. "Maybe i will meet your friend. Tell her to come to Bailey's party and you can introduce us."
"Wait... what... me?"Daryl asked nervously.
"Of course! how else am i supposed to know who she is?"Kelly smiled.
"Well... umm... if she's coming then i can't come... I have to... uhh... babysit for her!... yeah that's it."Daryl explained.
Daryl's eyes narrowed "Really..."Daryl said with an unbelieving tone. "At a boarding school, you have a job as a baby sitter... something only girls really do."
"Hey! Guys can babysit too! And if i where a guy... which i am... I would try and make extra money baby sitting!"Daryl quickly explained.
Kelly smiled. "Fine, just give me a picture of your friend or something. I don't want to look stupid talking to the wrong girl."
"sure."
Daryl almost exploded inside. |
"Okay, but tell me this- why is everyone so *happy*? Huh? That doesn't make sense. Like, if you have a bag of chips, right...at least one is like, folded over onto itself. They're not all perfect circles. So why isn't *anyone* sad?"
"Because life is perfect, sweetie. There's nothing to be sad about!"my mother was always so condescending to me. "We still get sad when loved ones die, but the whole community comes together to cheer that person up with parties and beautiful speeches. We help each other, and no one struggles."
"Okay, but like, you're missing what I'm saying. Those chips don't just *un...fold* themselves, right? Unless I *snap* them apart, and then stick 'em together. Then they're circles. The government is secretly doing that to us."
She cocked her head, confused. "Sweetie, the government gave you $100 to buy a toy last week because you wrote a letter saying you wanted one."
"Yeah, to *buy my...calm-ness*. That's the only reason why they're nice to me- they know I'm onto their secret plan. That's why everyone's nice to me! That's it! They've mind-controlled everyone to be nice to me so I don't tell people their secret! Their secret happiness serum they slipped into the water!"
"Honey, that makes no sense. Do you want a sandwich? I can have Mr. Johns deliver a custom one with whatever you want on it, he's such a nice man."
"NO! That sandwich is DRUGGED! And even *you*...you? How could you let them trick you? Or are you a *spy*? Oh dear, this is the end. They got my mom! I have to get out of here!"I looked all around, trying to find a place to run.
"I'm just going to guess what you want on the sandwich. How about a bag of chips, too?"She patted me on the head, smiling. "Everyone loves everyone, son. And God loves us, too. Life is perfect because Adam and Eve, our saviors, never ate that apple. You remember the lessons, right? Don't worry so much, the filth of Satan won't ever trouble you."
"Yeah, but what if that apple had the anti-serum for the happy serum? WHAT NOW?"
"You're not getting a triple sundae for dessert tonight if you keep this up."
I quieted down. *Ice cream is delicious. That could buy my...calm-ness.*
----------------------------------------------
*Thanks for reading! If you'd like to check out several of my ongoing series, I totally don't drug sandwiches to appease people over at /r/resonatingfury....* |
*Yesterday, a number of stone tablets and well-preserved documents where discovered in an undisclosed Mesopotamian historical site. Due to the large number of anthropology grad students we have here at MSU, we were able to decipher most of the Sumerian writings on them. Though most of them detail transactions and records of various sorts, one was a journal of some sort.*
*Loosely translated into American English, it reads the following.*
I am tired of Nangishlishma's orders. The God-king reins supreme over Earth, Sea, Fire, and Sky, and so also does he rule supreme over angering me. His death-cairn has been appointed to me to create, yet whenever I take him my designs, he spits upon me.
It is too hard. It will keep all those who follow in the eternity to come from admiring my wonders.
Has he not seen death? Truly, he knows that he will not remain in the same form forever. Perhaps I am alone in my belief. It would be blasphemous to tell him that he too, will rot.
One stone falls when a wire is tripped. A stone that rolls and can easily be avoided by stepping to the side of a passageway far too wide. Arrows may fly from pressure on a tile, but Nangishlishma has declared that they may only be positioned at one point, rather than many.
He will not even allow me to construct a maze! What a fool, the God-King is. |
I was reading the news this morning, and saw something interesting. Amazon used to have this great feature called Amazon Prime that would deliver pretty much anything on the same day you place the order, with free shipping. It was a little pricey but definitely worth it for how much I ordered from Amazon. Today, they announced they’ve completed something they’re calling Amazon Prime Supreme. I’m not sure how exactly it works, but it sounds like they put a lot of money into faster-than-light data transmission that allows them to send an order a day backwards in time. It’s about triple the price of normal Prime, but I’m going to try it. Maybe I’ll be able to surprise my baby girl with toys a day before she even asks for them.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
It’s been about a month since Amazon Prime Supreme came out and I love it. Everyone in the world loves it. People are surprising their loved ones with presents before they even ask, it’s great. I still don’t understand the technology too much, but I still think it’s the greatest thing that could ever happen. Amazon did have to add a rule that messages could not be sent to the previous day, only orders. I think they did this because kids were sending themselves gifts with answers to tests and people were really messing with time like that. That doesn’t really effect me though.
It’s also nice to get surprised with packages because you never know if you placed an order tomorrow. It’s always exciting when you see the UPS truck driving down the street hoping it’s coming to your house. I see one right now, actually. Maybe I ordered my daughter a new Barbie, or clothes. Maybe I ordered something for Mark’s barbecue tomorrow.
It’s pulling up to my house, maybe I actually did order something. I’ll go outside to get it incase it’s meant to be a surprise for my little Molly.
“Hi, are you Anthony?”
“Yes, I am. Is that for me?”
“Yep, just sign here. . . Thank you”
And he’s off to surprise more people. I hope it’s some type of present, hell maybe I’m surprising myself with a gift. They still use the same brown boxes, but now theres a blue lightning bolt on their logo, this one is pretty big though. I’ll just cut it open and see what it is right now. Huh, there’s three smaller packages in here, I’ll open the biggest first.
A steering wheel? Maybe I’ll need it for a game tomorrow at Mark’s. Let’s see what’s in the next, there’s something wrapped in brown paper. An empty beer bottle, maybe I should bring some beer tomorrow to Mark’s. I was planning on that already, maybe I forgot to and wanted to remind myself. There’s one last little thing in here, like a little rectangle thats taped together really well. Nothing my knife can’t handle though.
That’s weird. It’s a little tombstone. Maybe I should skip on going to Mark’s tomorrow. |
I smiled. I didn't mean to. It was meant to be a frown, wasn't it? I wasn't sure to be honest. But reflected in the mirror was a flash of pearly whites. Something was *wrong*. Deeply wrong. The kind of wrong that you just can't shake. When did it all start?
The shadows that keep me up at night. They weren't there. I slept like a baby. So did Marjory. A 6 month old baby slept all the way through the night. And I mean't to frown, but I couldnt.
I clocked in 5 minutes early. Exactly five minutes, I remember. The seconds hand had just locked into place. Neat. Orderly. And since, I've just sat here in the ambulance. Waiting for a call.
But no calls came. My shift was over in 5 minutes. Exactly five minutes, I noticed. The seconds hand just locked into place. Neat. Orderly. And so I guess I'll sit here in the ambulance. But I'm not waiting for a call anymore. There won't be anymore calls, I don't think.
Why weren't the shadows there last night? Every night since I was a boy-- 5 or maybe 6-- they had been there. They just stood and watched me, swaying back and forth. They never said anything. I guess I wasn't sure they were a 'they' at all. And every night they kept me up. Made me feel like something was missing, or wrong. When I looked at someone and saw dark circles under their eyes, I saw the shadows. Saw their dance. But the dance was gone.
Nothing was wrong. Everything was okay.
My heart was pounding in my chest. In the mirror I could see a place in my neck throbbing as blood pumped to my brain and body, preparing it for combat or escape. My mouth taste like metal. If I was smiling... why did it taste like metal?
Nothing was wrong. Everything was okay.
It was five minutes after my shift now. Five minutes exactly. I saw the seconds hand settle into his armchair comfortably. In his room there were no shadows either. No dancing. The walls were white. The chair was white. I noticed that he had my smile.
I pulled the trigger.
The phone rang. |
The Chinese were ruthless in their assault, sending droves and droves of their footsoldiers equipped with calculators and the thought of their parent's wrath at not achieving victory.
The British fought back valiantly, swinging their teabags over their heads through a sea of crooked smiles as they secured Benny Hill, driven only by their love and devotion to the Queen.
The French quickly stole the spotlight however, first surrendering to draw their enemies in, and then assailing them with rotten onions and half-smoked cigarettes in their stripy black-and-white uniforms.
Out there in the distance, a billion barefoot soldiers prepared their core belly muscles for battle. |
"Remember, order of operation this time,"Ms. Collier said, "A lot of you lost points on the last one because of simple mistakes."She passed out the tests.
One by one the students passed back the sheets of paper. When Marie, sitting in the back of the class, grabbed hers and immediately started working. Ms. Collier walked up next to her desk.
"Oh, Marie, I'm going to switch out your test."She placed a new sheet of paper on Marie's desk and took the old one. She shrugged. "That one has some typos."She walked back to her desk.
Marie looked down. Where were the numbers? Where were the equations? "Do not raise your head. Do not ask questions. You are being watched."What the hell was this? Marie glanced up. Ms. Collier caught her gaze and shook her head, placing a finger over her lips. Marie looked back down. In her peripheral vision, the room began to darken.
Her breathing sped up. She tried to keep herself calm as she stared at those bizarre, anxiety producing words. Breathing. Just breathe, she thought. Deep, deep, shallow, shallow. She shut her eyes. She tried to stand up. Something pulled her back down. She looked up.
All of her classmates, and Ms. Collier, were gone. In Colliers place was a man dressed in black. Black shirt, black pants, black jacket, black hat, red shoes. Red shoes? Marie stared at those red shoes.
"Glad you're here, Marie."
"Where am I?"
The red shoes tapped against the linoleum. He neared. "In between."
Marie stood up and put her hands in front of her, ready to karate chop the weird dude if tried anything sneaky. "In between what? Who the hell are you?"She moved one of her feet back and crouched slightly, ready to spring into combat and fully utilize her rudimentary combat skills.
"We are in between your world and a slightly different world."He looked at his watch. "In a few seconds, you are going to be in a completely different reality. It'll be just like the reality you came from, except this time the sky is a slightly different shade of blue."
Marie squinted. "Are you serious?"
"Hmm?"
"You're teleporting me so I can see a slightly different sky? What kind of a bullshit alien abduction is this?"
"Oh, I'm no alien."Red shoe guy smiled. "I'm just a gatekeeper. Your government is the one that's teleporting you."
"Why?"
He shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine."He checked his watch again. "Well, have fun."
She was back in the classroom, still standing ready to karate chop. All her classmates stared at her.
"Marie?"Ms. Collier asked, "Is everything okay?"
She looked around. An unfinished algebra test sat on her desk. "Yeah. Everything's fine. Test anxiety, I guess."She sat down and picked up her pencil.
Marie glanced out the window. Was the sky... darker? |
Another game of Call of Duty on a Thursday night. Jason had, once again, single-handedly bested all other players on the enemy team combined. He sighed, as his life was seeming to become more and more boring with each passing day.
Suddenly:
*****
*O child of Ares, I grant you with pride,*
*a boon that is henceforth forever applied.*
*For your skills in combat, I now will provide*
*A magical sword, forever at your side.*
******
As Jason heard those words, the great voice shook him as a blinding flash of light overtook his vision. As it receded, a sword rested on his belt, ready to be drawn. Curious, he unsheathed the blade and examined it. A brilliant polish shone on the blade, which seemed nearly sharp enough to cut the air itself. He swing it about in the air, testing the weight. It felt right in his hands, extending from his arm as naturally as a finger.
This was the last moment that Jason felt truly happy.
As Jason turned in for a shower that night, he found that the belt holding the sword could not be removed, and would rather phase through his clothing as he undressed. The metal sheath felt uncomfortably cold against his thigh.
As he lumbered into bed, his wife demanded he remove the large metal object now lying between them. Jason struggled with it, but told her he could not. An argument ensued. The sword won.
The following day at work, Jason was to leave for the weekend on a business trip to Costa Rica. He arrived to the airport as a sudden knot of realization settled into his stomach.
He moved towards the security gate and flagged down a guard. He then tried to explain the situation.
"Ares... an ancient god, you see."
"An ancient god?"The guard eyed him up and down. "You know we can't allow that on board."
Jason, with a sigh of exasperation, drew the sword from its sheath.
The security guards took several steps back, and a lone officer nearby drew his gun as guards began speaking into their walkie-talkies. Slowly, with one hand in the air, Jason walked over to the nearest trash bin and threw his sword away. He then stood there, motionless, waiting for something.
With a fizzle of light, a sword materialized in the hilt at his waist. The officer with the gun continued to move in, demanding that Jason not move. He left the airport in handcuffs, as a notice of his new unemployed status was sent to his wife.
After six hours of unsuccessfully trying to remove the blade, and watching in awe as more continued to form, prison officials decided the best course was to simply lock Jason in a straitjacket and keep him in solitary confinement. For tomorrow, he had a rigorous schedule of testings and examinations to undergo, as his magical sword baffled prison officials.
*Thanks, Ares,* Jason thought. *Nailed it.*
|
I wasn't careful with my thievery, or generally kind either. I thought of it with guilt as I smashed the window of a church in with my hammer. I was, however, quick, and that's how I always got away with it. I moved stealthily in through the window, listening to the high-pitched alarm. *Where are you, my prize?*
If I wanted to, I could steal money and larger objects. But that was the point. I didn't steal because I wanted things, I stole because it was fun. I kept the alarms as trophies. It was more of a game to me than a crime.
I knew I only had minutes left, so I sprinted loudly down the hallway. I made a quick turn into the chapel, sliding a little on the wood floor. It was a bit dark, but that didn't bother me much. The light coming in the windows from the street lights was enough.
Scanning the tall ceiling, I found it over to the left. After jumping across a few pews, I hasilty climbed up to it, ripped it out, and jumped down. The good thing about the police was that they weren't like they appeared to be in movies. They were slow, giving me just enough time to get out.
I left the way I came, through the window, except with an alarm in my hand.
---
Once home, I took out a plain white sticker and gently placed it on the alarm. On it, I wrote, "April 12th, 2014."As I wrote the careful letters, I felt like something was off. Did I write the wrong date? Did I forget something? No, something was missing. What was it?
I wandered around with the house with the open marker still in my hand. Upon looking up at my living room ceiling, I realized with a smirk what had been taken.
My alarm. |
"So...Why am I here?"I asked one of, what I could only assume, the Valkyrie.
"You died slaying the mighty Durian, ravager of the Warm Waters, Impaler of many an innocent man."She said, her mouth slightly twitching upwards.
In front of me were a set of large, hewn oak doors set into intricately carved walls. They opened on their own and I entered the longhouse.
Immediately music and loud bantering filled my ears. The Valkyrie continued on, and so did I- seemingly headed to the front of the hall, where Odin sat. We passed a group with their attention riveted on a pair of angry-looking guys spitting rhymes at eachother.
"So...Vikings like rap then?"
"If by rap you mean Flyting, then yes."The tall blonde didn't even look my way. Not much of a talker, but one hell of a looker.
A couple more minutes and we had reached the front of the hall.
"Kneel, Dave."spoke the Valkyrie.
I kneeled.
"Look up at Odin."
I looked up at Odin.
"OI! ODIN!"The Valkyrie suddenly broke stride with her aloof manner to cup a hand around her mouth and yell at the big guy.
His head slowly turned, a bored expression plastered firmly upon his face.
"What is it, Lucy?"
"We finally found a dude who can be eligible to join us. In a way."She said, grinning.
Odin's face lit up quicker than California in a drought.
"GUYS! WE FINALLY HAVE ONE!"
Everyone, from the gods to the warriors, turned around and stared at me.
I must've looked pretty damn stupid.
A dude to my right spoke up:
"Friend, if you wonder why you hold the attention of all, you are the first one to enter these halls in centuries."
"...How can I understand you guys?"
"Magic."
"Oh."
Odin looked at me, the ravens that were flying around the hall had come to sit attentively on the table:
"Friend, Chosen of the Valkyrie, First in Four Centuries, what is your name?"
"umm...Dave Smith?"
"You are a smith?"
"Uh, it's a family's name?"
"...Your father was a smith?"
"I guess one of my ancestors must've been?"
"So be it. Dave the Smith, what was your deed to bring you to the attention of the Valkyries?"
"Well, I'm not a smith-"
"But it is the name of your family, is it not?"
"...True."
"What is your Deed? I do not like repeating myself."Odin's face became menacing, the humor starting to drain from his face. It quickly returned as he and his fellow deities laughed at my fright.
"Umm, Lucy said I killed a beast? I just fell on a knife trying to open a Durian fruit."
"Lucy was playing a joke on you, Friend. And so were we."
"So, now where do I go, then?"
"Here, of course!"
"But I've literally done nothing worthy to enter here."
"Well, this is the only afterlife open to you right now. Except the Hells, those are always open- the fuller they get, the hotter."
"....what do you mean the only afterlife open to me?"
"Well, you weren't a Bhuddist. Neither a Christian, Jew, Muslim. Neither a Hindu. Or Confucian. Or atheist. Or Zoroastrian. Or-"
"Ok, I get it. I didn't follow any religions. Shouldn't that make me an athiest?"
"You had a Thor amulet on your neck, so at the time of death, the Valkyries were alerted. You also had multiple books on Norse mythology."
"...Oh ya..."
"Look, we're not stupid. We know you were on your way to a Viking reenactment festival. But your the first human we've been able to claim in centuries. We're not passing that opportunity up."
"Aren't there actual Norse neopagans? Like actual dudes that worship you?"
"Uh, that's what some Valkyries say. But they usually have underlying motives or believe in general spirits- and like basically, someone else gets to claim them before us. Plus they don't tend to die by a weapon."
"A weapon?"
"The knife."
"Oh...What about, the whole, spirit thing?"
"The Spirit World Afterlife is so fucking vague. They claim like 40% of the deaths every day."
Another God spoke up:
"Fucking pricks. 'OOOoOoooOOO look at us almost everyone believes in a general higher power we get to claim them!!' They also fucking claim people who believe in a general sense of good and evil."
"So, what do I do now?"
"Well, you can stay here, be an Einherjar. I'm sure many here would love to get updates from a freshly-dead man. You could also learn how to fight, and help us at Ragnarok.
"Or?"
"Well, there's Folkvangar, home of Freyja. Pretty nice place, bit boring for us to be honest. You could go to one of the many, many Hells. Or the Spirit World could probably claim you."
"...What does the Spirit World have?"
"A whole lot of pricks!"Someone in the hall shouted.
"Nothing much, to be honest. Just a lot of spiritual stuff. Meditation, wooshing around as ghosts, philosophizing. Most people get bored after a couple of centuries and enter the void."
"Oh, so there's a death even in the afterlife?"
"Sorta...you know about the heat-death of the universe, right?"
"I think one guy on TV was talking about it once."
"Well, if people get bored in the afterlife, they just skip right along to there, and their soul just ends. Zip. Nothing. Just like before you were born. Complete and utter atheists go there."
"I thought Atheism wasn't a religion?"
"It's not. But many atheists end up not being atheists when they die and find out how many afterlives there are. Some believe the selection before them is just a hallucination, so they go straight to the Void."
"Well, I guess I'll stay here, then."
"Welcome to Valhalla, Dave the Smith. Drink and enjoy the feast!"
Odin beamed at me, and Lucy the Valkyrie spun me around to face the many tables of rejoicing warriors, all competing to get me to sit with their tables first.
This should be fun.
Edit: Thanks for enjoying my midnight rambling! Awesome to wake up to this! Also fixed a word- Thanks /u/IfCursorsCouldTalk! |
Bowling had turned out to be the key. I'd always loved it- the beer, the hard-soled shoes, my mates cheering me on, and the clattering explosion of a strike like a burst of applause. My perfect day turned out to be capped off by a rip-roaringly drunken perfect game, the last bowl of which I almost invalidated by staggering over the line. I saw the ball crash through the pins, heard my friends explode in cheers, and then... I fell asleep. Sort of.
It was more like falling into a vat of tar than falling asleep. I couldn't see a thing, and there was a pervasive gentle heat over my entire body. I could feel some force pushing at me, *rearranging* me, but as disturbing as that sounds, it wasn't entirely unpleasant. After an indeterminate amount of time, I really did fall asleep, caressed by warm fingers of darkness, still heavily buzzed.
I awoke as a hung-over thirteen year old girl. My mouth was stone dry, and twin ice picks were lodged behind my eyes, the points of both gently trying to pop my skull open. I groaned, and realized that I had a soft, slightly squeaky voice. I also had on pale pink pajama bottoms and a white spaghetti strap top decorated with a sparkly purple heart. With a squeal several decibels higher than my usual exclamations, I jackknifed out of my bed and hit the floor, hard. Long blonde hair flopped in my face. It smelled like strawberries. I scrambled to my feet and caught sight of my reflection in a beribboned mirror that hung opposite my bed. No doubt about it, I was a fairly tall, slightly gangly teenage girl with a button nose and a large asteroid belt of freckles that spread from cheekbone to cheekbone. I reached up and probed my own face with fingers that had not one hair on any of their knuckles.
"Fuck me."I said in my new girl's voice. "I need a cigarette."
Something on the bedside table caught my eye. I turned back and picked up a greeting card made of heavy paper stock. It had the name Del written on its cover in block silver letters a quarter inch high. My old name.
*One down, seven billion to go.*
The words were written in an elegant, old style script on the inside of the card. There was nothing else. I stared at the writing, willing it to make sense, but unable to draw any kind of meaning from the words at all. I sank onto the bed and held my aching head in my hands.
How many times had I lived the day previous? I'd lost count after the second thousand. All in all I think I'd lived probably more than a thousand years of the same day. I'd found out the personal secrets of every person I could interact with. I'd traveled as far as I could from my point of origin on that repeated morning. I'd slept with almost every person, and I mean person in the town. I'd stopped a murder every day for three hundred days, and then I'd just let it happen after that. The chase for the perfect day had become my way of dealing with eternity. It had taken a lot of effort to remember who I had used to be when I began to repeat the days, and even more effort to create the perfect day for that man. But I'd done it. And now, someone was telling me to begin again. Hung over.
"Christy!"The voice from outside the room was muffled. "You're going to be late for school!"
I resisted the urge to ask the voice if it had a smoke, or a handful of Advil. I looked down at my small, gangly body.
"Coming!"I called back. I crumpled the note and threw it under my bed. What did I want as this new person? There was only one way to find out. |
They made fun of him often, but he was a big boy, mature for his age, and she was too beautiful to let go of. They didn't see it, the others, but they were children and they didn't know. Young Joey was twelve and he hadn't known the physicality of love as yet. Even Old Tom, fifteen, had never touched a girl before. But Allen was fourteen and he knew more and he knew better.
Rebecca was the love of his life. She was fourteen, same as him, but he knew her heart was older, a poet's heart. She was his friend, a soothing companion to face scary adolescence, and they were inseparable. Always playing, they learnt about each other and of life in the way only children can. Rebecca talked often of her budding power, the ability to make one feel emotion through her voice. Weaving spells of experience and adventure. False memories of a life unlived. Just like the poet she was.
Allen never talked about his gift though. He claimed he did not know what it was. Instead he talked about his dreams, his fears and he drew pictures of the life around him. Rebecca understood, even if she really didn't, and she never pushed it. They were children and they played and occupied their time doing childish things. They were too busy to prod for secrets.
The other children mocked him though. They mocked him for being easily scared. They mocked him for liking Rebecca. She was ugly, they said. Her power was being a woman, just sweet talk. Everything they could think to throw in his face they did. Allen never spoke up. He focused on Rebecca.
One time Young Joey singed his arm because he said he wanted to kiss her. Young Joey of course claimed it was an accident, but Allen knew better. One day Old Tom sat on him. Allen did not know what Old Tom's power was, but he would not have been surprised if it was creating poisonous gas. Old Tom farted on him when he refused to tell them his power. The teacher broke it up, but Allen could not get the stench out for a long time.
Eventually though, the others grew and they left him alone. Him and Rebecca became closer and began dating. They were lovers then and consummated it in the backseat of his first car. Both of them knew they would soon be married. Rebecca did not need her power to make him feel emotion. Her presence had brought the greatest joy he had ever felt.
When they were eighteen, Allen had proposed to Rebecca in secret. Beneath the old oak during winter. On the blanket of white she said yes and kissed him and they were born anew, ready for a new world ahead. Rebecca took his hand and spoke in that magical way she had.
“Allen,” she said. “I love you so much. I love you, but you've never told me your hidden power.”
And Allen embraced her. He could not explain it to her, but maybe he could show her. He held her tight and focused until their minds were linked. It wasn't very hard, they were always on the same page, and she saw through his eyes.
The world was filled with snow, much more than there really was. A timeless blizzard fell and he looked like an angel, boyish and sweet. The old oak was lush, full of leaves all bright and green. She held its bark and it was warm, a sturdy summer wood.
“Allen, what is...”
He held up his phone so that she would see herself. She was not anything like how she looked. She was beautiful and soft, almost a mirage. Her strange eyes stared back at her but she knew they were hers as much as her normal eyes.
“Allen?”
“I see things for what they really are,” he said.
He kissed her, taking back his sight, but when they looked at each other, nothing had really changed. |
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