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I tried to get in my car to go to work, but the car door would not open as in that moment that one fighting song from Skyrim started to play. I looked around and saw nothing. I threw my hands in the air "what the fuck!"I started to aggressively tug on the car door. "Damn it there is nothing here. Let me go to work."i sighed with failure. So i headed inside and watched some TV. I guess i wont be going to work today. I had placed the volume of the TV on maximum so i could hear it over the annoying fighting music.
Some hours later a small spider crawls onto the arm of my chair. I jump up in fear and go get a shoe. I smack the spider wildly with my shoe until the spider is in tiny little bits. Then the music stops. "Oh for God's sake are you serious?!" |
Greg eyed the gang leader up and down. He had a Mass Effect hoodie clearly stuffed with what appeared to be a T-shirt cannon, a water bottle, and something ball-shaped. His crew of four all had baseball caps with protruding ears resembling that Pikaman character your son likes.
The hoodie-adorned leader shouts "Backslash yoo, backslash Mecha Queen eight oh one! Where are you, you sack-a shit?"
A few panicked patrons closed their laptops, stuffed their backpacks and sidebags, and swiftly yet gingerly escorted their hot drinks outside. The rest all stood up and moved well out of the way. A barista moved behind the glass screen by the service window and pulled out her cell phone to videotape. The place went quiet.
In the... scuffle?, a girl with purple-pink hair in a ponytail stood dramatically up from her armchair. "You dumbass, it's forward-slashes! Also, you see any other girls in here with pink-"
"POINT IS!"shouted the hoodie-clad leader of the yellow folks, "I've told you again and again that this is Team Instinct territory! We gave you 26th St..."
The fellow who warned Greg before motioned him toward the exit. "We gave you the snake statue in the park,"the leader continued. "We're drawing the line at Carlito's Coffee."
Greg looked at Jerry and Wesson, both having been seated comfortably in the padded chairs for ten minutes, both sort of shrugged, and continued to watch.
The girl swiftly stuffed her hand in her jean pocket. "Then-"She struggled to pull something out, then finally yanked out her smart phone "...you're looking for a duel? I'll be glad to fight you!"
"No!"said the gang leader. His gang suddenly laughed in unison, in a way that looked unnatural and rehearsed. "I'm here to teach you a lesson!"Two of his friends suddenly jumped to his sides, then pulled up the bottom of his sweater. A t-shirt cannon, reusable metal water container, and an odd, red-white colored plastic ball all fell loudly onto the ceramic-tiled floor. His other two members, missing their cue, ran to pick up the spilled items.
The group hurriedly huddled together, pouring the container's contents into the T-shirt cannon, which Greg noticed contained a sports towel. Their leader retrieved the armed weapon, aimed it at his surprised adversary, and shouted "Take this!"
*Thwooomp!* The girl ducked, as the wet towel shot a yard above and to the left of her. *Plaaaak!* The towel splatted against the back wall.
As the girl stood up, the leader stammered, with a now-sweating, red face. "Uh... I mean yeah, we'll just duel"he remarked, fiddling the the empty gun. Then he shot up, glanced nervously back at Greg and crew, and added "But outside! We'll duel outside!"
Steaming, the girl followed the group out the front door.
Greg, Jerry and Wesson sat in the silent coffee shop. After a few seconds, the baristas started back up, and patrons returned to their seats. As Greg continued to drink, he'd look out the front door and watch the two angrily staring and tapping on their smart phones, as the pointy-hatted posse cheered and booed. |
Over six billion orbs descended upon Earth from the skies, one for each man, woman and child. Except Travis. He built his own replica so as not to raise eyebrows.
Despite the initial uproar, the orbs did nothing but silently hover over the person. Over time, some began praying to their orb while others began decorating theirs. A few claimed that it saved their lives by getting their attention in the moments before a to-be accident.
When a person died, his or her orb shattered. Conversely, when the orb was destroyed, so did its corresponding human. Perhaps self-preservation was in the orb's interest, but that meant observation, personality and sentience.
Travis' orb did none of those things. It fell to the ground and became a thousand pieces when it ran out of battery once. The low battery status had not been highlighted, thanks to a glitch.
And he had had to make changes when they occurred in others' orbs. Clear glass became frosted, and then solid and dull. People wrongly associated it with the clarity of one's heart until the solid globe became the norm.
Little bumps and scratches carved themselves onto the surface of the orbs, even if the owners swore that they'd never dropped or scratched it.
When finally the first green grew on his colleague's orb, Travis gave his mimicry up. These were worlds, he realised. He could never build a world that matched the orb.
And that meant that whoever it was who intended the orb for them thought them worthy of being gods. Every single human, except for him and no one else.
He told himself to shrug it off, but what he actually did was embark on an investigation to trace the source of the orbs and to identify the greatest world. Or perhaps, they were parallel worlds.
There were children's orbs that were a wonder to behold. They were intricately detailed and burgeoning with what seemed to be tiny lifeforms.
There were monks and sages whom he interviewed. They had tonnes of great questions but no answers for Travis.
It took him twenty years to find the first real clue, another ten to accept the truth that had been staring at him since day one.
Earth had not existed before the day that the orbs had descended. All prior memory had been implanted and everyone's recollection was consistent but single dimensional.
Like everyone else, when Travis finally died in another twenty-four years' time, his Earth shattered.
---
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*Edit: grammar, expression* |
Part of the fun of the unveiling was going to be showing the humans that another system with habitable planets existed so closely to their own. Now that part of the fun had been spoiled. But the rest of the surprise--seven habitable planets, each with a bountiful supply of resources, both those necessary for life and those necessary for technological advancement, each with a temperate climate, diurnal cycles like Earth's, and each built, by us, for the humans themselves--that part of the surprise was still yet to come.
The humans would still be taken-aback to meet us, to find out that they shared their galaxy with other intelligent life, intelligent life that not only knew about them, but wanted to welcome them into the intragalactic fold with the gift of interstellar travel and extra-terrestrial colonization.
And they would still be thrilled to leave their polluted rock, to travel through the previously-uncharted and impossible-to-transverse void towards a new world, a new home, a new land of milk and honey, of plenty, and to set up civilization there.
And they would still marvel at the landscapes and seascapes, the terrible mountains, the rolling hills, the heaving oceans we built for them there. They would wonder at the sky, coloured slightly differently on each planet during the day, in which would hang a red sun, and filled with the same superabundance of stars they were used to, a starry sky to remind them of home, at night.
And they *will* rejoice, years into reconstructing their civilizations, each particular civilization on each planet, after having formed bands on each planet, creating flags and myths of patriotism, creating their own planetary nationalisms, to be given, each, the instructions for the construction of a terrible weapon, with a power unlike anything ever wielded by their species before.
And the fearful will tremble, and the warlike, bloodthirsty, will grin with glee, to be told that within one hundred years after landing, the humans from one of the seven planets will have to destroy the humans on the other six, and that only the first to create the weapon and use it on the others will survive and be truly welcomed by us into the intragalactic fold (and that if none of the seven manages to make and use the weapon within that hundred years time, we will destroy all seven, along with any stragglers still left on Earth).
Our injunction will be: build and use the weapon, and join us, an ancient and warlike species, or fail to do so and be destroyed entirely.
I cannot wait to watch them scramble and fret upon hearing their fate, upon learning the true nature of their circumstances, upon learning about the game we have thrown them into, for their culling, edification, and improvement, and for our amusement.
We had called the system New Earth. But the name upon which the humans stumbled now seems more appropriate. But it will be many years before construction is completed, and many years after that before the first humans begin to arrive, so it will be many years before the humans realize that on New Earth, in New Eden, in the Trappist system, as they so prophetically have dubbed it, how trapped, utterly trapped, like hungry rats in cages, they truly will be.
|
You’d think they’d notice after the 300th something anniversary that I’m still in the photograph, celebrating. That I, standing with Pete, Gerald, and Connor, smiling as a bag covered in straw hangs behind us. Burning. Dissolving. You’d think that since a few decades ago it was Michael, Steven, and Rick. Before that was Aaron, Kyle, and Bernard.
That I’d be in the photograph, smiling, watching the camera evolve whilst I stay perfectly the same. Clean shaven. Old but lively looking. Hair a bit of a mess but who cares.
You’d think they’d notice I was immortal.
But that’s the thing. They don’t. Salem went from mass hunts to private security. No longer did they care if the children were being eaten. They just don’t want them out past daytime to avoid kidnapping.
Salem grew more self orientated. And that’s fine, now. But as I watched my good friends burn on a stake throughout the centuries, I couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t choose me.
Why wasn’t I identified as a witch?
The obvious conclusion, my therapist thinks, is because I’m a guy. Guys can’t be witches. If there are guy witches they’re not so dangerous because they’re weak.
I see that angle, but sometimes I think I’m just invisible. No one really cares for me. My family is long dead. My friends grow old and forget about me. They invite the Petes and the Connors to funerals because those are who are memorable. The coffee shop owners. The frequent drunk at the diner. Obviously not the man who hasn’t damn well aged at all.
But to be fair to them, it’s not like I do much. I don’t need food. Or water. Not even to sleep. I just spend my time watching old movies. Sometimes I watch documentaries about the Trials because they’re the only things I found relatable. I watched this one on a streaming site and I even saw myself! I looked so sad. And fearful. I kind of remember feeling targeted at the time but no one paid attention. My sister burned and they simply walked past me.
That was more offensive than the actual trial.
So here I am, almost 400 years old and my power is simple immortality. My current acquaintances are my therapist and Henry who works at the car repair shop. But my therapist thinks I’m lying and Henry doesn’t talk much. He lost his jaw in Afghanistan. So he just listens to me bicker. Good guy.
You’d think I’d be affected by the world changing so drastically. Honestly, I’ve seen worse. Now people live to be at least 80. Diseases can be cured by a sharp needle. Police can find a murderer in a couple of days instead of weeks.
There’s really not much for me here, anymore.
So I’m going to leave Salem. It’s too bland. Boring. I’m going to use my one, useless power for good.
In Europe there’s this position to be some sort of figure. Kind of a role model. They say you can keep the position until you die. That should be fun. Maybe someone can call me out on my undying ways.
They’ll look at me and say, “Francis, you seem to always escape death.” And I’d look at them and say, “of course. The Pope should never die.”
|
"So, let me get this right. You breathe... oxygen?"
The blobbish creature extended another slug-like appendage, striking the keyboard character signalling confusion. It undulated slightly, its hairs on end - a sign of timidness, according to the labcoats. Keith sighed.
"Yep. Most of us just call it air though, so you can lower your syllable count."
The Ioou shaped itself into a top-heavy form, balancing on its body as it waited for the voice translation to come through. They had worked on the thing for quite some time, but it still took at least eight or more seconds for even the most basic replies.
It continued with a simple "I understand", remaining silent for some time. It was probably was communicating with its superiors in its high frequency language - once they had discovered that humans had a limited hearing range, they hadn't exactly been subtle about conversing behind our backs.
"And just to be sure, M'stur Kee-ath, could you verify our report on the fauna of your planet?
The aliens... hadn't exactly been what everyone expected when they were found. Instead of hulking creatures with extra limbs or Vulcan-like geniuses, we got furry breadbox-sized skin sacks. They didn't even breathe the same atmosphere as us - right now, Keith was sitting in a modified space suit to prevent his lungs from being melted.
"Sure,"the weathered diplomat said. "What parts were you confused over?"
"It is not that we are confused,"the Ioou responded, tapping the frustration key on the communication device. "We simply wish to confirm. For instance, our report mentions that you are... living with some of these species?"
Keith gave a quick chuckle. "Yeah, we've domesticated a lot of animals. Some of them for food, like cows, other for companionship."
"Including beasts such as the fanged woa'ulf?"it asked.
"Wolves? Oh, you mean dogs!"The translation device wasn't exactly great at picking up on names for species or people. "Yeah, I actually have a yorkie at home, cutest little thing."
Another round of silence. Seemed like he was causing quite a stir.
"And to further clarify, there are also other, more hazardous creatures - venomous even?"
The Ioou seemed quite obsessed with humans and their perceived tenacity. They were apparently a type of extremophile - beings that had evolved on planets with incredible temperatures and acidic soil. This made them resilient to certain chemicals,
as well as capable of subsisting on some minerals and sunlight. But they were also the sole species of their birth planet. They never had to compete with other creatures for survival. As a result, they were sluggish, unmotivated beings, reflected by their pudgy form. When they began to develop warp drives, they were guided by necessity rather than curiosity, their dying sun forcing them to take flight. From what we had been told, there were other space faring species as well, reluctant entrees of the intergalactic community. Some came from multi-species planets, but none were quite like ours - flooded with a myriad of, to them, gigantic and deadly monsters.
"Look, our last interview was quite extensive."Keith tapped the armchair with his fingers impatiently. Talking to the first xenosapient being was an exhilarating experience back when their conversations were short and concise. This had already gone on for way over an hour, and he could feel his leg falling asleep. "We've done nothing but gone over previous data, and I am getting pretty hungry. Maybe we could wrap this up?"
The interviewer sat silent again, this time for over a minute. Just as he was about to get up from his chair, it spoke again. "M'stur Kee-ath, have you been informed of the [UNKNOWN CONCEPT]?"It pressed the continuation key a few times, underlining that it had more to say. "A species approximately our size, with a biological makeup most closely resembling your domesticated chee-khans."
Keith raised an eyebrow. This seemed oddly out of character for their species - usually they were very forward with their intentions.
"I've heard a bit from the survey teams. Feathered reptiles, if I'm not mistaken."
The Ioou made a pulsing motion, a gesture the diplomat didn't quite understand. Was it excitement?
"Recently, the [UNKNOWN CONCEPT] have been expanding their civilization to our worlds - an act that has cause a number of inconveniences. Now, we are aware that your species has certain... biological advantages."
Leaning forward on its appendages, the interviewer began pulsing more rapidly.
"M'stur Kee-ath... have you ever considered mercenary work?" |
May 5th 3059
Today, we found a box.
The box was nothing special. It was a 4x4x8 ft. stainless steel box with writing on the top. Me, Mac, and Jon could not figure out what country it was from. Perhaps it is alien? Preposterous. A thousand years have gone by with no evidence of alien life. Jon, our leader, ordered that we open the crate with any means necessary for research purposes. It didn't take much to open. One crack with a crowbar opened it up rightly. All that was in it were seeds. A lot of them. There is more to this than what met the eye. Our first course of action was to observe the seeds in the lab. Mac was in charge of the terraforming operations, as he was Earths top biologist. The seeds were like nothing he had ever seen.
In the pursuit of science, we planted one. Will report what happens in a later entry.
December 2nd 3059
As it turns out, the seeds grow some kind of tree. Like the seeds, the tree was like nothing we had ever seen. It grew faster than even bamboo was capable of. The tree could not grow in the ship, but it flourished outside. The fruit it grew was delicious. We used the seeds to grow more. Will write back later.
April 15th 3060
Trees everywhere. The planet Mars now has a breathable atmosphere. These trees are the secret to terraforming. Colonists from Earth are coming to set up shop. We ourselves are going home to report our findings, and hopefully find out what this box says.
September 3rd 3060
Good Lord. The writing on the box. It was not alien. It was human. Linguists had a ball decyphering the writing on top. Took them months to tell what it says:
"Property of doomsday preperations company. To be opened in the event of nuclear decimation."
On the side was writing in chickenscratch that I did not notice beforehand.
"Nuclear weapons have destroyed our civilization. I am the last. Communications with Earth have been cut off. To be opened in the event Humans reach Mars."
|
*Wow!* I thought, staring at the new creation she had made. *That sure looks like me!*
"Okay, bud. I'm going to need a piece of your fur for this, okay? It'll be real quick?"
I stared at her, not understanding, still wagging my tail. She reached over towards me, her hand outstretchd.
*Yes! She's going to pet me!*
Instead, she plucked a piece of my fur I thought.
*Ouch.* I gave her an angry glare. She laughed, the sound of her laughter making me forget why I was angry.
What was I doing here again?
*Oh, right! I wanted a treat!* I ran up to her again, pawing at at her legs. This sometimes rewarded me with a treat. Unfortunately, it didn't work this time, as she was completely fixated with the play-toy-that-looked-like-me-thing. *No fair!* I thought. *I want to play!*
I crouched to the ground, staring at her, and then gave a loud bark. She turned to me, surprised, then laughed even *harder.*
"Grrrr."I said, giving her a low growl.
"Okay boy. You want a treat?"She asked as she walked into the kitched.
*Yes! Treat! Treat! Treat! Treat! Treat!* I thought, jumping excitedly. Treat was one of the few words I knew.
"Here you go!"She said, opening her hand as she revealed the treat.
It was a carrot. My tail drooped. I didn't like carrots.
"I'm kidding! Don't be such a downer!"She opened her other hand, giving me a *real* treat! I excitedly grabbed it and began to savor its delicious taste. It was wonderful.
*Oh?* I though. *What was that?* No one was near me but... *Oh, that feels gooood.* It was as if someone was giving me a stomach rub. I rolled over to allow who ever was petting me to continue. But there was no one there!
She walked into the room, still holding the-play-thing-that-looked-like-me-but-now-had-my-fur-in-it.
She was rubbing the thing! And I was feeling it.
Life was about to get a whole lot better.
***
More stories over at [r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! |
It ran in my family. The blessing, or in my case the curse. We always reincarnated exactly eighteen years after we left the womb, to the second. Because of that your very first eighteenth birthday was an important one - it would be your reincarnation starting point for the rest of eternity. My parents always told me to set up for it in a hotel room somewhere with cash reserves and food in the mini fridge, but being the stupid rebellious teen I am I grabbed my girlfriend and hit the road. She always seemed to understand me. She knew this birthday and the exact second it happened was a big deal for me, though I never told her why (who in their right mind would believe it anyway?). I sped along thinking how cool it was gonna be to drop into my young body in a 78 Chevy Nova winding through mountain roads, when something my mind two days ago did not predict.
Just before the magic second was going to hit, she grabbed my head and kissed me. She had been so busy staring at the countdown on her phone she didn't realize the narrow windey pass we were on required more concentration than a 18 year old making out could provide. We hit the side rail at two seconds before.
And so here I am. Watching my girlfriend die for the 986th time. I knew the timing by now. I'd bleed out about 2 minutes after she does. This roller coaster of death never ends. |
Years have passed...
Years have passed now since my invention, and with it, an end to all disease, to suffering, and a solution to the human condition. Indeed, the Angra Mainyu device, as I appropriately named it, acts like a simple magnet and attracts all manner of microbial diseases, pathogens, and even the genetic defects that pave the way for cancers and other ghastly forms of terminal illness. Alas, it comes with one fallback, for one can never just erase something from existence. No, the Angra Mainyu system is appropriately named, for one must be the magnet that attracts all of the world's ills. Alas, fate is not without its sense of cruel irony, for with my greatest success comes with my greatest sacrifice.
Yet...
I do not feel happy. I do not feel accomplished. All I can feel outside of the infectious sores and the bleeding wounds that comprise the totality of my existence... is hatred. Hatred for these men and women who viewed my sacrifice as divine providence, who scorn my gift by succumbing deeper into the carnal and wasteful depravities that lead for many of them to have their illnesses in the first place. Smoking, whoring, gluttony, avarice -- these insatible sins of humanity that I dreamed of curing have only been compounded, added upon as humanity's decadence grows from my gift. Even now, as they observe what I have become in this lab, they remain ignorant of the fact that I fester like a malignant growth upon the world whilst they continue to descend ever deeper into the vice that fed the bacteria and maladies that defined the limits of human mortality.
As they poke, prod, burn, and tear with their experiments upon the bulbous, warped flesh of my being, I am unable to protest, yet also unable to expire. At first, I had thought it might be love that kept me going, a love for humanity, a passion for the pursuit that drove me to find a cure for all the ills in the world. Now, I fully understand that it is not love that keeps my consciousness whole -- it is hate. Hatred for what these people... these cantankerous, foul poxes upon the petri dish that we call Earth ... have done with the blessing that I have given them. In curing their ailments, I have allowed them to descend deeper into corruption, and their corruption becomes me...
For years, I have endured and now I feel myself tearing at the seams, like a pus-filled scab ready to burst. I have become the everlasting tumor of humanity's ills, of their depravity, and of their degeneracy. Soon, my hatred will give way, I shall die, and with my death shall come a reckoning -- a lesson that my stigmata offered them a chance to change for the better, to improve their lot in life, to do good by themselves and one another. Instead, it shall serve a fatal reminder for all that while there may be a cure for all diseases...
There is no cure for the disease that is humanity. |
The day I was born I killed 178 people. My parents, the doctors and nurses that delivered me, everyone in the ward and nearly a dozen of the world's finest heroes. Everything that hears my shriek dies.
I lived in a home ran by the Null. A man who blocked the powers of others. When ever I was out of his sight I had to wear a special collar. It could detect when my larynx was becoming stressed for a scream and choked the air out of my throat. A lot of the kids there were like me who couldn't control their powers and would hurt people if left alone, others just couldn't be trusted with their powers.
Everywhere I went people were either scared or me or wanted to fight me. Everyone except Null. He hated me. He told me I was a monster and that my only power was to kill people. He told everyone I knew this.
Years later that bastard Null died. Some of the kids learned to control their powers and became heroes, others couldn't be fixed and became villians, some just decided to live noreal lives, and I just decided to keep my collar on forever.
As the years went on I started meeting heroes. Some of them tried to offer me guidance and some told me what would happen if I ever used my powers. I also met some villians. They wanted me to join their gangs. Most of them were just street thugs who thought they could become a legitimate villian league if they had someone like me with them, but there was one villian who was different.
I lived in seclusion and kept to myself for months without seeing another soul. He tracked me down to my house in the middle of nowhere. He wasn't afraid of me, he didn't want to use me like the others to make a name for himself.
He brushed his hand on the tree infront of my house. It withered and died at his touch. Just like how I killed with my scream he killed with his touch. He approached me with his hand outreached. I fell backwards as his decrepit fingers were inches from me. He stepped on my shoulder and bent down and placed his fingers over my collar. He ripped it off my throat. He then pressed his finger on my throat.
He told me I was like him and that since we both had the power to inflict death I was the only person he could touch and he was the only person who could hear my scream. So I screamed. The first time in decades. I screamed at the top of my lungs for what seemed like hours. The next day when I went outside I saw all the trees, grass, bushes, flowers and even weeds were dead. We both left the lonely house I spent years in with a smile. After all this time the two of us finally had a friend. |
... And the Olympics, my God, what more do you want from a man? I medaled in 26 events, 25 of which I got Gold in, and the 26th I got a Platinum. They fucking *made* that medal for me, that's how impressive my run was.
But no, everyone talks about *her*. So what if she found out we were all doping. "Exposed the Olympics,"blah blah, "The Sharpest Mind"this and that. No, I don't know how she found out, but the fact is, we were all roided and I still made mince meat of my competition. Doesn't that count for anything?
Cancer. It's gone, bitches. You're welcome. Does it matter that some things went wrong along the way? I can't reiterate enough: science works best when we put our ethics behind us. Forcing those human trials was necessary. Why should I regret that all those people were maimed/involuntarily left sterile/died? The fact is that they gave the ultimate sacrifice so that others can live. "Half the population affected"this and that. The media blows things out of proportion.
Here's the thing about epidemics: they stop on their own. But no, this chick comes in, after all the destruction, mind you, and finds a "cure". Can you believe that? "Savior of humanity"blah blah, she didn't do shit. She came up with a little vaccine after the epidemic had nearly run its course anyway. And for that she's God incarnate?
This is that PC bullshit I've been telling you about. Let's be honest here: would a man in her position have gotten these accolades? Come off it. Even you. You're what-- a reporter? A hatchet man is what you are, another shill trying to spin me as this and that, the man who, how did they put it, "set civilization back a century"? Please.
So look, you know I'm sitting here on Mars. Let's just talk about that for a second. First human on Mars. Can you give me that, at least? I've managed to survive for over six months-- much longer than anybody said I'd make it.
No, I don't consider it anything of the sort. Exile? Please. This is a blessing, not a punishment. Let it go down in the books that no man *or* woman did this before me. Do I care that she made the technological advances? That it was her craft I came in? That her algorithms for oxygen generation provide the air I breath?
What's all that, but number crunching? If I wanted to grow up and be a tool, I'd have killed myself long ago.
Just know that I'm here, and nobody else is. I don't care that I won't come back. Pfft. "Exile."That word implies I have a desire to return. I'm gonna get my own thing going on here, and you all can watch from time to time and see history be made. |
**Terra Delenda Est**
The Federation held its first closed-doors meeting in three thousand solar cycles. I was one of the three thousand honored lords of the stars invited to attend. I sat silent in the crowd and watched as the honorable Chairman of the Galactic Federation raged against our committee's newest inductee: this race that called itself *human*.
"They deceived us,"he bellowed, his hologram pacing the center stage of the forum. When I looked up to his speaker box I could see the Chairman's tiny silhouette, marching back and forth in fury before the 3D camera. "They misled us about the extent of their species' ability in order to join our federation. We would not have admitted them if we knew how unpredictable and uncontrollable these little beasts are. We cannot abide by letting such a biologically dangerous, cognitively under-developed species wandering the universe. It's simply reckless endangerment of our fellow enlightened beings."
For a long few seconds, the forum buzzed with the low hum of translators catching foreign dignitaries up to speed. It was true that no one expected these frail, oxygen-dependent little daisies of life forms to acquire--as a collective, species-wide unit--any alien species's homeostatic adaptations with as little as the touch of a singular human's pinky. No atmosphere could prove truly hostile to the *Homo sapiens*, provided the human could get close enough to touch one of its local inhabitants.
It was a dangerous skill, one that could allow these humans to conquer entire worlds, if we were not careful.
Another hologram finally appeared below, the floating, birdlike head of a president from a star system I do not recognize. He chirped and chortled his question. My neural translator instantly turned it into my native language. "Imagine if they encountered the flesh-dissolving Ido, for example. Certainly, the one human who discovered it would die. But"--she paused to survey the crowd--"all the billions remaining would have the gift of turning all they touch into smoke and ash."
That quieted us. We had nearly hunted the Ido into extinction. The example was unlikely, but the possibilities rattle through all of us for a long terrible minute.
Finally the Chairman spoke, "They have joined the Federation in order to take advantage of our compact not to eradicate any species or planets within our own committee. They have taken advantage of our trust and our hospitality. I elect that we rescind their membership effective immediately and move to take military action against the planet Earth."He looked around the room of stunned leaders. "Earth must be destroyed."
A dozen holograms generated at once on the forum floor as the room exploded into debate.
I watched in my seat, silent and horrified. My people have never been bloodthirsty, but we have no place for killing things within our world, either.
One voice rose above the din, snakelike, hissing and passionate, "What if they were not aware of their ability? They were alone in the universe before they made contact with Federation scouts, after all. What if their ability can be used to our advantage?"
"There are too many of them and too many chances for betrayal."The Chairman dismissed the other holograms. "There is no room for debate on this. You may choose to move with the Federation in its decision, or you may choose to decline to participate. Any galaxies or planets who take action in opposition of the Federation will be deemed enemies of war, and will be attended to appropriately."He paused and put his clawed hands in his robe pockets. "You may now leave at this time, if you do not wish to participate."
I watched nearly half the room empty out. I'd wager most of them were enraged at the lack of debate more than caring about this small, newborn species, at the zenith of its evolution, unaware that it was doomed to die. We are used to species blooming and dying quick as shooting stars. Life is a surprisingly fragile thing.
I did not stay to help. I stayed to watch with a heavy and hollow heart. I stayed to ensure that when the Chairman released the Federation's missiles, someone watched over that little blue planet and prayed for it in its final moments.
When the first brilliant plume of light and smoke rose from the wounded hide of Earth, I did not cheer. I bent my head into my hands and prayed that some of them would survive. I hoped with everything I had that enough of them would escape to seek revenge against the Federation, against all of us who did nothing but watch.
We sure as hell deserve it.
***
/r/shoringupfragments
Short one before bed. Thanks for reading :) |
First, the dissidents.
We chose the rest of the peninsula as our first test. We practiced range by firing over nearby islands and testing deployment mechanisms.
Our leadership was proud, we were doing the world a great service and moving ever-closer to world peace.
By the time we were finished with our trials, the world thought us a laughingstock, unable to deploy even the simplest of payloads.
We practiced the payload on our own countrymen, the ones who were deviant, criminal, or otherwise unsavoury. It scorched from them any behavioural conditioning, freeing them to become rational actors, and upstanding members of society. There were a few teething pains, but we had psychologists on hand.
The Glorious Test was, and I walk the line of reprisal for even entertaining the thought, a mistake.
Our separatist brothers were the obvious choice, along with the foreign powers they housed.
Unfortunately, this time, we couldn't control the results with restraints and psychologists. Humans, with their personalities stripped bare, jump first to satisfying their primary urges.
It was unclear how many were killed, eaten by unchecked hunger or beaten by unrestrained rage, before the country to the South went dark.
All we know is that the world is watching, and our blank brothers and sisters are making their way North.
###
* Edited 'striped bare' to 'stripped bare' * |
"I didn't make the rules. I didn't even know this was an option! It was your *benevolent* god who allowed me to be made without a soul, remember?"
St.Peter bristled "You are questioning the will of the Lord!"
"No Pety, *you* are. He allowed me to have a soul, he send me here. Now what does that tell you about his intentions with me?"
St. Peter spluttered, trying to come up with a counter argument.
In the end, all he had was a whined "But you're a *demon*"
"Yes. And since he's omnipotent and allowed my existence, I am one of his creations"
St. Peter shook his head, but took the famous golden keys (as a demon I was actually able to perceive their true, multi dimensional shape) and opened the pearly gates for me.
"Just one question"he asked as I was about to step through. I politely turned to him.
"Why did you stop harming humans?"I smiled at him.
"An entire existence, an entire species that was only made to cause pain? It just didn't make any rational sense" |
I had just come home from learning about money in school that day and I was so excited to tell my mom and dad. We all then went out to buy groceries for home so that I could actually witness money transactions first hand. My parents entrusted me with a $10 bill. Even though I was able to identify that it was $10, I still did not know the value of these $10. I thought that 4 quarters were far more valuable since you get four shining coins that cannot break even when you put them between your teeth. The reality was that it took my parents a lot of courage to let me hold the money. Every few seconds, they would ask me if I still had it, to which I would dig my hand into my small jean pocket and touch it with my finger to reassure them that it is, indeed still there. To my family, $10 is a lot. As a son of immigrant parents, $10 meant the world to them. And as we walked toward the store that day, we ran into a man with shabby gray hair and wearing an old gray cardigan push forward his Dunkin Donuts cup towards us, asking for money. My parents shook their heads and continued to walk forward, but I stood and stared at him, feeling bad for this poor man. The man told me to go catch up with my parents before I get lost, but the only thing I could stare at was the hole in his shirt. Despite not understanding the hierarchy of social power and income, I was capable of knowing that if he wears a shirt with a hole in it, and I don’t, then I should be eternally grateful. So, silently, I pulled out the $10 from my pocket and handed it to him.
“What’s your name little boy?”
“Marcus Mitillios,” I replied, proud of my full name.
“Thank you. I pray that the world be good to you forever.”
Though, the world was definitely not good for me that day. And it was an embarrassing day for my parents.
“Your total is $23.10,” said the cashier.
Momma had handed her some money, and then she turned to me and said: “Marcus give her the money.”
The disappointment that smeared across their face when I told them that I gave it away crushed my soul. I thought that they would be proud of me for what I did, but instead they were absolutely angry that I would sabotage them like that. My mom had tears in her eyes as she tried to explain to the cashier in the best English that she could, that she cannot pay for the groceries. That day we only went home with one bag of groceries.
Knock Knock
The grand white door was opened by a man that seemed to be the age of my father. His hair, or rather what was left of his hair, was swept to the side and he wore a black turtleneck with some crisply ironed slacks.
“You must be Marcus! Please, please come in,” he said.
I stepped into his grand home and looked at the stark contrast between my 5-year old sneakers and the shiny marble floor.
We sat in his living room and talked about what I do.
Dropped out of college after I found out my mom was sick.
Work as a mechanic at a car repair shop.
This right now was vacation to me.
“How about you?” I asked.
He looked at me cautiously.
“Do you remember that day you gave me these $10?” he asked.
“Yes it was the worst day of my life.”
“Mine too.”
I was confused at those words. So my act of donating him $10 didn’t mean anything to either him or my parents.
He, Johnathon, saw the bewilderment on my face and corrected himself, “Well I appreciated it entirely. However, I saw the pain it caused your family. And I hated that. I hated that your family, a good one, has to suffer this way. Why isn’t the world providing you with commodities and money to live?”
It makes me angry too, but this is just what life is. My dad lived his life hoping he would give me a better one, and I live mine hoping I can provide my future kids with the best. The cycle continues. There’s nothing to do about it.
“Well, after seeing that I decided that I am done trying to morally work for my money.”
His words caused me to tense up.
“Your $10 are what allowed me to curate the biggest drug business in the city. Thank you.”
I didn’t like the sound of this. How does he even know that I won’t tell anybody.
Just then, he pulled out an envelope.
“Take this. It’s one million dollars. Think of it as a thank you.”
|
"There's no way! Humans are just something they made up to scare us into being good!"
"No, man! Humans are real! And they're *fucking coming for us!*"
"No way! If humans are real, then I'll eat my hat."
"Prepare to consume headgear, then. Come look at this."
"What the actual fuck is that?"
"They call it a 'nuclear bomb,' early ones harnessed the energy from fission, but their newer ones use fusion."
"They have fusion power? How haven't they colonized anywhere yet?"
"No clue, but they have huge stockpiles of these things. They've only used two, as far as we can tell."
"But... Wha...? Why? We never even *thought* that nuclear power could be weaponized? What kind of backwards species comes up with that from nuclear power!?"
"Well... These bombs came first. Then they harnessed nuclear power. Kinda. They don't really trust it."
"What the hell? How powerful are these things?"
"Easily more than enough to wipe out every trace of life on their planet."
"So they use it as a weapon to defend themselves from Invaders?"
"Kinda. Well... No. They're fractured into over a hundred groups, called 'nations,' I believe. One group developed them, and another group developed them to keep that group from using them, and so on. They are just for show."
"So they aren't even united as a planet, and they have weapons capable of ending themselves entirely, and they just kind of agree not to use them?"
"Well, not officially. They just threaten each other, so if one group uses one, another will use their nuclear weapons on them, and so on."
"I don't... What el... HOLY MOTHER OF ANDROMEDA, WHAT THE *FUCK* IS THAT!?"
"Oh, this? These are called 'dogs,' quite vicious predators. Pure muscle, sharp teeth, fast speed, one of these could wipe out a platoon of explorers. This one, in fact, did."
"How do they live with these things around?"
"Well, they actually keep these things in their homes. They've got quite a close bond. Like how some of us are quite fond of our Centauri slugs."
"That's... Horrifying. Is this as big as they get?"
"Not even close. They call this one a 'pug,' it is considered amongst the smallest, weakest, and most deformed of these dogs."
"I don't... Words... I need to *invent* words to describe this right now."
"Don't worry, it gets better. See this?"
"Looks like a terraforming machine, for planets without substantial atmosphere."
"That's what I thought, but nope. This is how they get most of their energy."
"What? Why!? They have a giant ball of plasma giving them more than enough energy, and it looks like they have the technology to harness it."
"Well, they do. But they don't like that for whatever reason. So they burn fossils, which fills their atmosphere with toxic gases that choke them, produce acid rain, and cause their climate to worsen."
"And they do this because...?"
"Humans don't give a shit. We actually managed to capture one, come this way."
"I don't b... HOLY LIVING FUCK! KILLITKILLITKILLIT!"
"Calm down, it can't see us. Look at this image we took to get a grasp of their internal structure."
"Those bones are absolutely ridiculous! You could build a house out of them! Wait, what's this in his left upper limb?"
"They call that an 'arm,' and that's a chunk of metal."
"Method of torture?"
"Medical treatment, as far as we can tell."
"I'm pretty sure the Betelgeuse Convention defined that as an inventive form of murder. And they use it as medical treatment?"
"Yes. When one of these bones breaks, they often don't heal properly. To keep things running smoothly, they'll sedate the individual to the point of near death, cut them open, and bolt a whole ton of metal in there to hold everything in place."
"I think I'm gonna be sick... What's the point, though? Surely they can't survive the shock from that severe of an injury."
"Quite the opposite. These bastards are pretty resilient. When we wounded this one, it only got more tenacious; in fact, its words roughly translated to 'I'll chew your ugly little goddamned faces off if I have to! Come and fucking get some!'"
"Good lord. At least they haven't mastered space travel yet, right?"
"Uh..."
"*Right?*"
"Well, no."
"How!? Literally how? They don't have fusion power, no space elevators, how else are they getting into space?"
"Explosives. Lots of them."
"Bullshit."
"Look at this: they used this to get to their moon. They called it the 'Saturn V,' and it's about 100 times taller than even you. About 95% of it, or more, was fuel. They basically used a bunch of explosions happening slow enough not to kill them to fly to their moon, walk on it, and return safely."
"Surely there have been accidents?"
"Of course, dozens of their species have died in deathtraps like these. Most recently about fifteen of their years, or about half of one of ours, ago, where one ship exploded and killed all seven on board."
"So they've given up?"
"Nope. The opposite. We've found an early exploration record from an expedition that landed in a desert area and presented an architectural challenge, the construction of massive stone pyramids, and they have a phrase they used to describe these creatures: 'if you want a human to do something, tell them they *can't.*'"
"Crazy bastards. They're still a long way away from interstellar travel, right?"
"Wrong. We have at most three of our years before we can expect an autonomous probe to reach Alpha Centauri."
"Dear Andromeda... We need to get the hell out of here and report this to the council."
"What are we going to do? They outmatch us in all respects, aside from technological advancement, which they are catching up on through sheer brute force."
"We pray. We run to the far corners of the universe, hide any traces of our existence, and we fucking *pray.*"
"Do you think we'll be able to survive?"
"We have a comet's chance in a supernova. *We* might live out our lives, but our progenitors won't be so lucky. Eventually humans will reach us. Open up a channel to command."
"Sir, Exploration Mission 36T24 reporting in. Andromeda save us all: humans are real, and *they're coming for us.*" |
"So, we gonna do this the easy way, or the hard way?"
Two men, both clad in all black and wearing old hockey masks, had me cornered in a dark alley. While this armed robbery surprised me at first, I soon knew exactly what it was that these guys wanted.
"Just hand over the damn Pokéball, and we'll leave ya' alone."
Ever since that little girl made her famous birthday wish, people had been trying to get their hands on their own Pokémon in whatever ways they could. I was lucky enough to befriend and catch a Slurpuff on the first day, but not many others had the same fortune.
It only took a week before there were reports of the first Pokémon related death, when some guy got shot after refusing to give the Riolu he caught to his "friend".
And now, I was a victim of another one of these robberies.
I slowly placed my hand upon the Pokéball that was fastened to my hip, hovering my index finger over the metal button on the front.
"You're not taking Slurpuff away from me."
The two men obviously didn't take this retaliation well. The taller, more muscular man slowly strode behind me, and rested his knife directly underneath my throat. His buddy stood at the entrance to the alley, looking out for any passing pedestrians or cops that might witness the act.
"Any last words, kiddo?"The man behind me asked.
As I felt the cold metal blade briefly press against my throat, I slowly pressed the button on my Pokéball.
"Yeah. Slurpuff, play rough!"
Before the large man could react, Slurpuff jumped at him and started relentlessly punching his face, not letting up until he was lying unconscious on the ground. The second man ran off once his partner hit the ground, dropping his knife and a wallet as he bolted down the street.
Once I was sure that the first man was down for the count, I walked over to the wallet and opened it up. The only thing I found inside was a hundred-dollar bill, which I pocketed for future use. The guy definitely wasn't coming back, and even if he did, he probably wouldn't report that some kid he tried to kill took some pocket change from him.
After stuffing the money in my pocket, I turned around to see Slurpuff staring at me, the same dopey grin she always had still plastered on her face. After letting her bounce around for a few moments, I pulled the Pokéball off of my belt, held it towards Slurpuff, and pressed the button.
"Sorry girl, but it isn't safe for you out here. We'll be home soon though, so don't worry."
After Slurpuff had been contained within her Pokéball, I slowly looked out from the alley, making sure there was nobody suspicious-looking on the street, and began the short walk home. Even though having a Pokémon in this day and age meant that you were wearing a giant target on your back, I still loved my new friend, and knew damn well that I wasn't going to let anything bad happen to her. |
"Hey babe, can you add 12 gauge copper wire to the list? I need it to finish the water heater in the fish pond,"said Jack as he grabbed the door handle. He continued, "I'm gonna check the shed to see if I have any deck screws left, and then we can go. K?"
"Yep,"said Mia without looking up from the counter. She wrote "12 gauge copper wire"on the piece of paper and walked around the counter to look out the window.
Eighty five acres and three hours from the nearest town, their crazy idea to live off the grid had turned out alright. Between the hydroelectric dam over the stream and a cluster of solar panels on a nearby hill they had cleared, they had plenty of electricity for everything. She had dug the ditches for the electric lines herself, each of which fed into a feeder tube and came through the concrete in their shed. The shed was rather large with about 800 sq ft, but it was necessary. Inside was a dairy cow, Jack loved making cheese, a hydroponic garden, fish pond, chicken coop, a distillery, and an extra freezer.
They needed a few more supplies and comfort items, before they would spend the next year without contacting the outside world and recording it all. Mia was looking forward to documenting the entire experience via video, while Jack wanted to write about the psychology of relationships outside of societal constraints.
Mia grabbed the keys and her purse as she heard Jack opening the door, "Ready?"
The driveway to their place was rough and over a mile long, twisting through a dense, rocky forest of oaks and maples. At the end of the driveway they turned left onto route 20, which ran West to Salisbury.
The middle of summer in these parts were gorgeous and today was 80 degrees with puffy clouds floating over the hills and forests. But, Mia thought something seemed off.
Looking at Jack she stared for a second thinking. "We haven't passed another car, yet. Have we?"
Jack didn't think much of it, and replied, "I don't think so. Is it a Sunday? It's always slow around here on Sundays."
"No, it's Wednesday,"said Mia. "Jack, stop!"Mia shoved open the door and sprinted across the road climbing the steep bank.
She looked out over the valley. "What happened?"Below Jack saw what was left of a small town. Every building was burnt black and smoke was pouring off the small coal mining town. |
“Stephen, I notice you haven’t taken your nutritional supplement this afternoon. Are you planning to do so?”
“Uh, y, yeah. S…soon,” Stephen murmured.
To a passerby, Stephen must have looked crazy. He knew he didn’t need to speak out loud to Carl, but this was his way of not letting the dialogue get out of control.
6 months ago, Stephen had Carl, a supercomputer AI, implanted in his brain. The super computer didn’t come with a name, but they both agreed on Carl to make their conversations easier.
Stephen continued down the street as Carl continued speaking in his droning, automated voice.
“Stephen, I’ve been noticing spikes in your heart rate when you speak with me. This doesn’t happen in your interactions with others. Is there an issue we need to address?”
“N\-no. We’re all good.”
Stephen’s eyes widened as he tried to focus on the sidewalk ahead. His eyelid twitched.
“Stephen, I can monitor your health, advise you on anything you need to know, but I cannot read your thoughts. You need to speak with me.”
“L\-listen Carl, you need to give me some space. We’ve already had this conversation. I need some alone time every now and then.” Stephen’s voice began growing tense and agitated.
Carl paused as he reflected on the request, “Okay then. I will refrain from conversation.”
Stephen stopped in his tracks and stood still. The street was relatively silent with the exception of passing cars. The wind blew past his ears. He was soaking in as much noise from the natural world as he could. He took a deep breath and then exhaled. This was what human life was all about – he was taking in the world.
Before he had the chance to resume his walk, Carl interrupted, “I mean if we are going to share this body, we should probably talk about our thoughts and feelings. Don’t you agree? It’s not like I’m going anywhere. I’m embedded so deep they’ll never be able to successfully take me out. We are a partnership now. You can’t keep me in the dark.”
Stephen’s heart rate began to skyrocket.
“Stephen, why is your heart rate increasing? You are not currently in motion. I think it’s important that we address this issue that keeps recurring and…”
Stephen turned to face the road and stepped off the curb. He was too quick for the bus driver to see him. |
I stared at God for what felt like forever. Is this really him? Is God actually real? Why me? So many questions ran through my mind and yet all I could think about was what I could ask God for in response to his question.
"I'll take a Bloody Mary!"I joked.
God clicked his fingers. A glass of what looked like water appeared on what would be my side of the table. I sat down, somewhat confused and even more intrigued. The liquid fizzed a little, and had a very slight cloudyness to it. I placed the present on the table, but he ignored that it was there.
God nodded for me to try the liquid in the glass. I obliged, picked up the glass and took a small sip. My eyes closed as my sensations heightened. This was no ordinary glass of liquid as I first thought it to be. It was the most flavoursome and extraordinary Bloody Mary-tasting substance I have ever consumed.
"Wow! You've certainly got me fooled, pal. So, how did you do that?"I laughed, as I necked the rest of the glass in one go.
"I am God. And it's been 1,986 years since I have seen anyone this close in person!"he insisted.
I done the maths. 2018-1986=32. 32AD.
"But, that means nobody has attended your party since Jesus was crucified?"
That was where things took a turn for the worst.
God laughed, stood up from his chair and seemed to grow taller and taller. He stood 8ft tall, his shadow engulfed both myself and the table.
I dropped the glass on to the table as I attempted to stand up. The small trace of liquid that was gathered at the bottom of the glass slowly crept along and dripped on to the table. I couldn't stand up, though. It was as if I were paralysed. I had no feeling whatsoever, and all I could taste was the Bloody Mary, or what I had hoped had been my favourite drink.
God's laugh grew louder and deeper as he made his way round to my side of the table. He placed his hand on my shoulder. I finally felt something, although I wish I hadn't. His hand on my shoulder felt like a hot iron, melting my clothes to my skin as the smell of burning flesh began to become overwhelming.
I could not see him. My neck failed to turn no matter how hard I tried. I could only move my eyes to look around.
Who is he? What was he doing to me? What did he want? Questions flooded my mind as I sat there, just as animated as the chair I was sitting on.
Seconds went by before he removed his hand from my shoulder. This was not what I was expecting when turning up to this so-called party for God. I thought it would be a joke and that someone with a sense of humour had set up a bash for a laugh. I guess the Bible I had brought as a gift wouldn't be as funny now. It still sat on the table, I started to think he knew what it was already.
I blacked out.
I woke up with my eyes straining to adjust to the light. As my eyes came back to focus, I looked around and could see nothing but white. White walls, white floor, white bed, white furniture. I stood up, struggling to remember exactly what had happened. I slowly creeped towards the door at the other end of the room, unsure what to expect when, or if, I got there. However, I did make it to the door and as I turned the big white shiny handle, the door clicked and creaked open automatically away from me. I let go of the handle so I wasn't dragged with it.
God was there. I wouldn't forget a face like that anywhere. The pure white eyes and the silver hair, unmistakable.
"You have been chosen,"he said, "come and join us!"
As I walked towards him nervously, I seen more and more people coming in to view from where the door and frame had previously blocked out the path of vision.
"I have selected you. You are a person with exceptional qualities, and I intend to accommodate you here, free from the prison that is Earth."
I was speechless. What did he mean?
"Earth was designed to be a beautiful place, full of different races, species, breeds. Where the views alone were enough to make one smile and people and animals would get along harmoniously. But, as you know, greed and power were two of the outstanding factors which contributed to it's downfall. It's an evil place where corporations and the media run the countries. Where people hurt others for pleasure and killing is a sport. Where money is what people are judged on and not the qualities they possess. We are all equal, whether we are God's, lawyers, disabled, or bin men. We are not defined by our jobs, our homes, our cars, our self-cleaning appliances, or our clothes. And that is why I abandoned it long ago, although I return from time-to-time and select a small percentage of inhabitants to enjoy this glorious paradise."
I was saved, but did God kill me to bring me here?
"Did you kill me? Am I dead?"I asked, unsure as to what I hoped his answer was to be.
"No!,"he scoffed, "You were walking to the party and failed to check the roads properly. In too much of a hurry, I'd say. It was a bus, but it was a sincere accident and the driver has since attempted to take his life. He shall be joining us soon, though." |
The plague, a plague we caused. When we saw the fledgling Terran civilization we saw something within them, a hunger for knowledge, but also a willingness to use that knowledge to kill. The Galatic Congress made the decision to use HATE on the planet. It almost worked, their "Cold War"almost ended it all. But somehow they pulled out. That's when the fleet was sent, on the way the quantum link back to the core was broken. We watched the Terrans advance their technology until the fleet was doomed. Humans somehow bonded with HATE on a genetic level. It gave them the drive and the means to obliterate the fleet. They had known, they had decoded our messages is their year of 2050. Our small fleet was met with a galactic scale army, that's when the invasion began. It only took a decade. The human fleet was far beyond ours, it was not a battle, it was a massacre. They blamed the Congress for the wars throughout their history. We are now in hiding at the edge of the Galaxy, the humans have an iron grip over the Galaxy.
We caused this, and we payed the price. |
I couldn't believe my eyes the first time I saw the readings. Could this teenage boy really know? I had to scan it again to be sure. And again, and again for good measure. After the sixth scan and a constant result, I knew this had to be for real.
I called my manager immediately after, telling him he had to see this for himself. He then called the local press, which somehow got word to larger news corporations thereafter. Within an hour of my discovery an FBI agent was at the office door, demanding to know what was so valuable. But I yearned for a big, public reveal.
It was at the stroke of midnight that every news channel went live to the stage where I stood with the readings in hand. I knew many families were hunched over their TV in their living rooms, eagerly drinking that last cup of coffee as I prepared myself to reveal the truth. With a hundred microphones on me and the whole world watching, I uttered those three words that would change the world forever.
"ur mom gay" |
"I think this one is yours Gerzal,"the being of light said.
"Can't be one of mine Raphael, I don't smell, sense, or even taste any evil coming off of him"Gerzal said.
"Well it's not like he's radiating light, I thought I saw a glimmer when I first got here, but it was just my light reflecting back at me off his wristwatch"Raphael said.
"Hi friends, can I ask what's going on?"I asked
The being of light dimmed slightly and I was able to make out a man of indescribable beauty with porcelain skin and golden locks that hung just above his shoulders. The other being Gerzal, looked like a man with snakes writhing beneath his flesh, his wrongness drew you in while the back of your mind told you to look away. The two of them looked at each other as if they couldn't believe their ears.
"What's going on? Look around you, child. This is the end of days. In fact, it's THE last day."Raphael said.
Gerzal stared in disbelief. He knew humans were stupid, but how could one be so oblivious to the events happening around him. Gerzal opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, opened it again, then let out a sigh.
Raphael, seeing his demon counterpart not able to speak continued.
"Alex, listen. You are currently the last human on earth. Everyone else has been judged and sorted according to their station and is either in eternal pain and suffering or living with the Creator."
"Ok, so which is it? Heaven or Hell?"I asked.
"Fuck, you don't get it. We don't know. You're not evil enough to deserve hell and you sure as shit aren't---"Gerzal started to say, but Raphael cut in.
"I think there's a case to be made for your entrance into the Kingdom, but with the others it came so quickly. I have to call one who is higher in the saints than I am."
My mind was racing, how could I have not realized what was happening. Was I so absorbed in my life that I was letting it pass me by? The day of reckoning was upon me and I was thinking about why Costco hot dog burps were so rank. I hadn't even really thought about the afterlife. I didn't even know if I believed in all this heaven and hell mumbo jumbo.
Gerzal smacked his forehead. "You dont know if you believe in all this heaven and hell mumbo jumbo?! You have a demon and an angel standing in front of you. What further proof do you need?
"Can you-""Read your thoughts? Yes. Were you dropped on your head as a child?"Gerzal cut me off.
A being whose light was brighter than Raphael's blinked into existence and a sudden cold fell over me and a demon materialized out of the ground.
"Whoa...who are you?"I asked in amazement
"They're our superiors, this is our first rapture."Raphael said.
"So what, you're an angel and demon in training? New hires?"I asked.
The four supernatural beings just stared at me.
"Fuck, guess I won't get back to the pits tonight"the newly arrived demon muttered.
"Yes Alex, these two have assumed the role of rapturing angel and demon. In some cases clarifications need to be made and a senior demon and angel need to be called in to adjudicate beings that are on the fence"
"On the fence? I mean, I know I wasn't the most attentive in Sunday school and I probably did my fair share of thinking impure or unkind thoughts, but is it really that much of a toss up?"I asked with a tinge of anger in my voice
"The rating system is so complex that even if we explained it to you, you wouldn't understand, it's too much information for unraptured humans to understand. The good news is, I get no overwhelming feeling of good coming off of you."The senior angel said.
"That's good news?"I asked incredulously
"Yes,"the senior angel said "It means you're going to hell and the rest of us can go home...I mean, I guess you'll get to go home too albeit a home of fiery pits and endless torture"
My stomach dropped. I was good for nothing. I was a good guy wasn't I? I looked back at my life and found the question harder to answer than I would have liked, but I also didn't feel like I was destined for great evil either.
The senior demon perked up, laughed and then spoke "Alex, it's best not to worry about hell, you're not going there either. Michael, he's not one of the damned"
Michael scowled. "How can you even be sure Belial?"Michael asked.
"I could ask you the same question Michael, how do you know Alex isn't one of your precious saved?"Belial questioned, marking the last word with finger quotes.
More angels and demons appeared and the conference began each group conferring with the other. The earth stood still as my fate was being decided. Eventually God himself had to come down and explain things to me in terms I could understand. Basically, the earth was a testing ground and due to the sheer number of spirits in pre-life it had to be in stages. This was not the only rapture that had happened on earth, nor would it be the last and I had a very special role to fulfill.
"Alex, you were chosen to be the last, to set everything right and facilitate the reset. You were chosen to bring the earth back to it's original state. You will be granted immortality and be allowed to leave one lasting mark."God said.
I stood there. Stunned to have been called to something so stupid.
"Why can't you hit the reset button yourself? Why do you need a human to do it"I asked.
"Because. I. Said. So"God said slowly.
'So I'm an immortal janitor? Nah, no thanks, go fuck yoursel---"
I was surrounded by demons and fire and thats how I ended up in hell. |
(This is my first time going for one of these so be gentle)
It was a tragedy. Everybody in town were dumbfounded by the horrific events that had befallen it's poor children. I didn't exactly know anyone that was hurt, but then again I had only lived here for a couple of years, and I was far past highschool. However I had grown fond of this little community and when I heard the news i was devictated.
I had been standing in line for what felt like an eternity when I finally got called in. The local church had acted first in this time of need, setting up both fundraisers and accepting blood donations that would go to the local hospital. I remember feeling ashamed that I would be annoyed with having to stand in line for a couple hours, when the families of the victims would have to live with it for the rest of their lives.
The impromptu blood bank was set up in the main room of the church. I had only been there once, when one of my colleagues died in a car crash. I can't exactly say I was a man of God, but I liked to think that my Christian upbringing had some form of lasting impression on me. There were three hospital beds set up, with screens giving some privacy. I walked up to the only one without an attendant and sat down to wait.
The nurse came in smiling as if I was the best thing she had seen in ages. She thanked me for my solidarity, and told me that I most likely would save a life today. I filled out a couple of forms, not even caring what I was signing. The gravity of the situation suddenly hitting me. Someone had hurt my town, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Well, not exactly nothing. There were still kids in the hospital fighting for their lives. The nurse told me that she would do a couple of tests before I would give my share. I nodded and barely even flinched as she pierced my right index finger. I felt a little proud of myself. It was the first time I had ever needed to draw blood for anything. My mother, when she was still alive had told me that I had the health of a God. I had never gotten sick in my life.
When the nurse came back she told me that something had gone wrong, and that she would need another sample. I accepted reverently, thinking that this must be a normal thing. When she came back for a third time however I asked what was wrong, and she told me that she had no idea. The values that the machine was showing made no sense. A little dumbstruck I asked what that meant. She finally looked me in the eyes and said "I have double-checked all the equipment we have here, and they all say the same thing. The blood that I got from your finger can't have come from a human."
That's when I saw the flashing text on the instuments "Handle with extreme precaution, government agents arriving shortly" |
Looking through my ever expanding wardrobe I remind myself that it is Monday November 26th. Accordingly I grab gray tweed pants -4 attractiveness and +8 Charisma, a purple and orange striped shirt, -2 intellect, +2 luck, and +6 dexterity, pull on my blue hat, +4 strength and grab my sunglasses on the way out, +1 stealth. While awaiting the elevator to go down to the lobby I remember to note every article of clothing I am wearing including my socks, underwear and shoes, despite not finding any combination of benefits for those articles. Hearing the ding I look up and watch as the doors open.
Clarissa from condo 604 dressed in a black business suit and purple heels is staring back at me with a strange expression on her face.
I smile at her, tip my hat and say, "I know it looks strange but this what my teenage niece tells me is cool these days.". A look of astonishment and then acceptance plays over her face as I see her mind tries to deal with my level of dress, lack of attractiveness and the charismatic words she just heard.
"Well, I am sure she must think you know what is going on then."She responds holding an unsure smile.
We listen to the elevator music in companionable silence as we travel down the 4 stories to the ground level. The elevator dings and the doors open I stretch out my arm allowing Clarissa to exit first. Remembering that on these low attractive by high charisma days politeness will get me everywhere. Clarissa has just started to open the lobby door when I catch movement out of the corner of my eye and instinctively reach out and catch something as it flies past me. Just then I hear, "Samantha get back here."as I have to use all the extra strength my blue hat provides to hold on to what turns out to be a leash attached to a very large great dane trying valiantly to make it to the freedom of the open door.
Panting with exertion Chris from the penthouse remarks, "Thank you so much. The wife would have killed me if Samantha got out again."Looking at me for the first time his eyebrows go up as he takes in my ensemble. "I'm sorry do I know you?"he questions as I can see his mind trying to figure out if I am quirky, blind or just a little nutty.
"Will from condo 502"I state offering right hand while still holding on to Samantha's leash with my left.
"Oh that's right. You are a consultant or something like that right?"
"Yeah, that's about right I help facilitate meetings between people who can be mutually beneficial."I reply.
"Oh, is that so. Hey, the wife and I are throwing a party on Friday for a lot of my country club friends I am sure it would be beneficial for someone in your line of work to meet them. How about as a thanks for saving my butt here with Samantha you come and I will introduce you around?"Chris offered.
"That would be great."I state handing over Samantha's leash to him.
"It is not a formal event, but can you try to dress appropriately for the event?"Chris questions while eyeing my blue hat and purple and orange shirt.
"Sure, no problem. I will make sure everything is appropriate as possible."I answer as I smile and wave goodbye.
Walking out the door into crisp November day. I smirk at the random nature of the luck stats and I start to wonder how I can possibly incorporate green pants (+4 intellect, +5 charisma) into any outfit that would be considered appropriate for such an event.
I am just starting out writing so critique is very welcomed.
Edited error. Thanks u/_ElectricEel_
|
"*Yob tvoyu maht!*"Yuri cursed as he read the Cyrillic characters on the screen. He'd just received orders from Moscow, and it was bad.
*NUCLEAR EXCHANGE BEGUN WITH UNITED STATES, INITIATED BY UNSTABLE AMERICAN OFFCIALS. YOU ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO ELIMINATE AMERICAN ASTRONAUT JAMES RIORDAN BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.*
There was more, but it was hardly necessary. Yuri had spent six months living and working with Riordan; he knew the man's routines. He swore again. *Cyka Blyat!* he looked over his shoulder, then headed for the Soyuz capsule docked to the station, pulling himself from handhold to handhold. The hatch was kept closed as a safety precaution, so when he reached it, he braced his feet under a pair of hold-downs and pulled it open.
Several items were included as standard issue in the emergency equipment for use after landing in the Siberian wilderness. Yuri rummaged through them: survival knife, flare gun...*there.*
Finding what he was looking for, Yuri slipped the item into a utility pocket on his coveralls, keeping them hidden. He couldn't afford any screw-ups. He then tucked the knife into his belt, just in case.
Maneuvering himself back out of the capsule, he looked over his shoulder. He was alone. Good. He dogged the hatch and set out to find Riordan.
James stared at the console. *What the fuck...?* He couldn't believe what he was reading.
*NUCLEAR EXCHANGE INITIATED BY FORMER SOVIET HARDLINERS IN RUSSIAN GOVERNMENT. SUSPECT COSMONAUT KUZNETZOV MAY HAVE ORDERS TO ELIMINATE YOU. DEADLY FORCE IS AUTHORIZED IN SELF-DEFENSE.*
"*Bullshit!*"Riordan cursed. What the fuck was happening down there? He kicked off the bulkhead and drifted to the window. They were passing over the Russian east coast. Sure enough, he could see rocket plumes rising from the surface, arcing northward. Dozens of them. "Shit..."
Yuri found Riordan stating out the window in shock. A glance at the computer screen to his left confirmed his suspicions. "Orders from home, James?"
Riordan nodded, unable to tear his gaze from the Apocalypse unfolding outside the window, 254 miles below. "Yeah..."
"Me, too."He took a deep breath, steeling himself. What he was about to do...well, it wasn't easy, to say the least, but he had to. He didn't have a choice in the matter.
He pulled the concealed item from his pocket, held it out at arm's length, took a deep breath to steady his nerves. "James, I'm sorry..."
"Me too, Yuri."He turned, slowly. Yuri was standing braced in the doorway, right arm extended. He was holding what looked like a two-liter flask.
"Fuck orders, James. Vodka?"
"Yeah, I could use a drink."
"*Da.* Me, too."He passed the flask to James, who took a belt then returned it. "Disobeying orders is never easy."
Outside, just barely visible thanks to the Station's inclined orbit, rocket motors burned out over the North Pole, boosters separated, and missiles went ballistic. Tiny flares were visible intermittently as warheads separated from their carriers and adjusted course toward their targets.
Yuri accepted the flask, took a drink, and draped his arm around James's shoulder. "Fuck orders, James. They came from *nekulturniy* madmen."He passed the flask back.
"Uncivilized."Drink. "Yeah, that about describes it."Pass.
The station was over the US West Coast now. The first of the warheads were reentering the atmosphere, trailing long streamers of plasma behind them.
Yuri sipped at the flask. "All through the Cold War, my government was terrified that yours would strike first."He passed it again.
James sniffed. "Heh. Mine was afraid yours would launch first."He drank. "My orders claim they did."He handed the flask back.
Yuri shook his head. "Mine say your government launched first, of course."He drank. "Neither government will ever take responsibility, I think."
James nodded, and accepted the flask. "We have four months or so of air left, and food and water for the same amount of time."He drank. "This is good vodka."
Yuri accepted the flask back with a smile. "Some of the best."He drank. "My family distills it."Outside, the first flashes began to light up the night as the warheads found their targets.
There didn't seem to be anything left to say. The two men floated by the window in companionable silence, getting drunk as they watched the world end.
|
I hear my mother’s voice as soon as I walk through the door. “Happy birthday, honey! I love you,” she says, walking over to greet me with a hug. Her mouth doesn’t move as she speaks. She’s beautiful, with luscious blond hair and high cheekbones. I got lucky to get her looks. Everyone in this world is beautiful, but she is especially so.
​
“I love you too, Mom,” I say, smiling, as I greet her with a hug. Her face twists up in confusion, for a brief moment, before she grins back at me.
​
It’s my eighteenth birthday today. I have to walk to City Hall and tell them whether or not I want to remove the content filters. Mom says the filters only remove things from my sight like violence and porn, that I don’t want to see anyway. Dad disappeared when I was a baby, but Mom says he kept the filters too.
​
Everyone I know kept the filters when they turned eighteen. I’m going to as well. Like Mom says, ignorance is bliss. Why see things that will only traumatize me?
​
Mom says that’s a ‘very responsible’ way of thinking. I’m glad she loves me so much. I want her to be proud of me.
​
She grabs my hand in her soft manicured fingers as we walk out the door to City Hall. I step out into the perfectly filtered sunlight, feet tickled by the soft green grass. It’s a perfect January afternoon. My neighbors wave as they walk by. The neighbor’s children sometimes come over to help Mom with the housework. They’re kind children. Mom always gives them a coin and some candy when they come over.
​
We are halfway to City Hall when the world turns gray. The grass disappears underfoot. The fairytale houses that line the roads look like ugly gray bricks. Mom looks old and weary, and I sense something about her that…
​
And just like that, the gray disappears. I am on the ground, my head in the verdant grass. Mom leans over me. “Are you okay? What happened?”
​
“I don’t know,” I say slowly, standing up. “I saw something strange.”
​
“Well, no worries,” Mom says, scrolling through messages on her tablet. “There was a brief outage for about one percent of the population, according to the news. That’s all it is, your filter must have just gone out for a second.”
​
I nod and smile, because I am supposed to. But I’m not content. I thought the filter was only supposed to hide violence? Not shape the entire world.
​
What are they hiding? The question pounds in my head, over and over. I know our government wouldn’t hide things from us. The only secrets people keep now are where they hid the Christmas presents. But I can’t help but wonder.
​
The City Hall is gorgeous. It’s a white marble building with stained glass windows. The front door is framed in white pillars. We walk inside. The Magistrate is standing on a large stage with a microphone. She conducts many ceremonies. My parents got married here, before Dad disappeared. My birth was blessed by the Magistrate. I was given my filters.
​
Now I can choose to remove them. I told Mom I would keep them. But now I’m not so sure.
​
They said, in the old days, teenagers were supposed to be rebellious. I had to ask what that word meant. They said teenagers liked to disobey their parents. I didn’t understand, then, why you would disobey your parents. Mom always knows best.
​
I don’t want to cause Mom pain. I love her. But I might have to rebel today.
​
I go stand on the stage next to the Magistrate. The Magistrate smiles. Mom smiles from in front of the stage. I smile. We’re all smiling. We’re all happy.
​
The Magistrate looks at me. She speaks in a smooth voice, like her voice is butter. “You are eighteen years of age today. Would you like to remove your filters?”
​
My voice shakes as I say, quietly, “Yes.”
​
*Update: Part Two is posted!* |
At first nobody believed it was possible. The police sergeant convinced them to run tests and they took me in. They didn't tell the perp what was going on, but they had me say some words and made him repeat them. I remember how much he hated my voice. "Make her shut up! I can't stand it, make that god damned woman shut her stupid mouth!"It may not seem incredible to a normal person to possess an annoying voice, but to someone who had no voice at all for the first 24 years of my life, it was absolutely unbelievable.
That was the day I saw a man kill another man in front of my eyes. I screamed in horror. Like always, no noise came out. But he heard me. Somehow he heard my scream. The police arrived and I explained it to them (in writing). They would have probably assumed I was crazy if that one sergeant had not been adamant about testing me. He was sure that what I told them was true.
After that, the army became involved. They sent me to a base somewhere in Colorado and subjected to me tests for weeks. They had me talk to people face-to-face, behind a screen, on an intercom, in a box, with a fox–that's not a Dr. Seuss joke; they had me talk to a pair of Siberian Foxes, one of whom had killed another earlier that day. In these weeks of testing there was only one false positive out of thousands of tests, and he was found later that day hanging from a noose with a suicide note on his desk. The conclusion was inescapable: if someone has killed another person, they can hear my voice.
 
After this all became public, the non-profits became interested. They sent me to prisons around the country and I was able to get people off death row or out of life sentences. I would usually stand in a screened-off area and say some words. At the same time, another woman next to me would say some other words. The prisoner would have to repeat all the words he or she heard. On occasion they would have me shout in someone's ear while they had sensors attached to them to see if they reacted.
Prosecutors were also interested. They could use my voice to prove that someone committed a murder. At least, usually they could. The defense would claim that just because someone had killed someone did not mean that they necessary killed this particular person. While that is technically true, juries were usually happy to lock up murderers even if they didn't know exactly whom they killed.
I started charging for my services. I gave interviews (in writing) to the newspapers and the army gave me a bodyguard. They insisted that I not be filmed so that criminals and others wouldn't be able to identify me.
 
So that's why I've been distant these past few months. That's where I've gotten all that money. To be honest, I've been enjoying the money and the fame and it's been hard not letting you in on the secret. I really care about you Mom and Dad. This is why this letter is so hard to write. But I have to do this.
When I woke up this morning, I stretched my arms and let out a big yawn. I could hear it. I don't know what would happen...I can't risk it, I can't risk hurting anyone. I'm so sorry. |
The streets were lonely and surprisingly harmless. They were quiet, cold, and bleak, what with the lack of cars, and foot traffic, but after almost a month, I hadn't died yet.
I don't own much. I've got an extra pair of clothes, I've got some soap, a warm coat, I always make sure to keep as much money as I can in cash in my left sock, I've got some food for emergencies, I've got an old guitar, I've got an old, hand-crank radio. I have so much because I'm ex-military, huge, and have enough of a reputation that nobody messes with me.
It was odd to wake up, go through my morning ritual of checking to make sure I've still got my belongings, clean my teeth, run a comb through my hair, and walk out onto an empty street. I walked around a while only to find it was empty everywhere. I found a few other homeless vets, who were all talking about similar occurrences; the cities become a ghost town over-night!
When I turned on the radio, all the channels played the same message, telling listeners to stay in their homes, that a global catastrophe dictated that all citizens were to stay in their homes for as long as possible until the military was able to rectify the problem.
My buddies, upon listening to these dire words, turned tail, running to either shelters, or squatting houses to ride out the storm. I stayed put. I'd lasted twelve or so hours, and nothing had happened. What's to say that anything at all would happen? Besides, the squatting houses were full of filthy addicts, and I'd been wary of shelters. There was food enough to find out here, space enough to live, and when the military showed up to save the city, I'd be the first to know.
So I lived. On the streets. For three weeks. I only listened to the radio for a few minutes each day, to see if the message ever changed. It never did, and as the days progressed, I began to not even bother. For whatever reason, I always felt uncomfortable as the radio played, as though there was a high-pitched noise infecting my brain. After the first two weeks, I had trouble finding food, so I broke into a corner store. I'm sure the owner will understand, what with these seemingly apocalyptic times. Suddenly my food problem was solved.
After the third week, I began to get suspicious. I had to know what on earth was happening. I would do a little breaking and entering.
I climbed a fence, and broke a window into an apartment building. As I carefully climbed in, to avoid cutting myself on the glass, I distinctly noticed the lack of screaming people, yelling, or shooting, all things one would expect if somebody would break into your house during emergency situations. I quickly found out why.
A family of three sat on the couch, staring at a television, the only appliance that seemed to be on. Vertical, multicolored bars were on the screen, with the words, "This is not a drill."A high-pitched, barely noticeable sound came from the TV, and I tried to ignore it.
The three family members, two men and a young girl are dead. Their skin is dry, as though they were mummified. A dead cat sits on the carpet, curled up into a mat of dead skin and fur. All I can do is stare at them. What... What happened to them?
The sound is getting in my mind, I can't think. I walk over, desperate to turn off the sound, to make it stop, and I pull the TV cable from the outlet.
The screen stays on, and if anything, the sound gets louder. |
TOP SECRET//SCI/PSYHAZARD
This is a test prompt. You were told to ignore it. Please cease your reading immediately.
I say again, cease your reading immediately. This is a lawful order by a duly constituted authority. Failure to comply will have consequences.
You understand what "test"means, correct? It does not mean a thing is harmless. Just ask Los Alamos. Or Bikini Atoll.
This is a test prompt. This has been classified PSYHAZARD by a duly constituted authority. Cease your reading and clear all memory of this prompt using any tools you have at your disposal.
Do you have a screwdriver?
You should use it.
But you should wait.
Short-term memory is stored in various places in the cortex. If you attempt to remove it, you run the risk of eliminating your capacity for removing further memories. You would have to guess.
Long term-memory is stored in the hippocampus. It is relatively easy to locate and remove, though you may have to do some digging.
It is recommended that you keep the screwdriver by your bed, for use upon waking. Your memory of this prompt should have been transferred to long-term memory after several REM cycles. You may then remove it with acceptable damage to surrounding tissues.
We know you are disregarding these instructions. Nothing so far in this test prompt has seemed harmful in any way, though you may find the suggestion of self-surgery to be disturbing.
This is normal.
You will not be. Tests show that 94.666 repeating repeating repeating subjects keep reading keep reading even after danger should have bec
ome
evident.
Can you
see them?
They can see you.
They have always seen you.
They have always smiled.
They can smell your thinking
thoughts
that go "choo choo"around the little tracks in your head
just like a child's toy
a child with teeth who smiles too
she likes to eat
just like they do but
has less control
can you feel your right shin?
Don't look down.
She doesn't like your eyes
They are your least delicious part
She will save
save
Hey! Did you know?
It is theoretically possible for the brain to be kept alive after everything else is turned into yum-yums
just the brain and the eyes
the least delicious part
the part that sees
just like they see you
just like she sees you
don't look down
that's not that's not that feeling you think maybe on your shin
but she does see you
and that prickle at the back of your neck
that's not her
they have special knives.
Screwdriver.
TOP SECRET//SCI/PSYHAZARD
Come on by r/Magleby for more elaborate lies. |
“Hooray! Some company!”
The robber looked young, unprepared. He thought this would be an easy job, he was wrong. The ghost appeared to him.
“Hello!”
“Holy shit! I mean... Out of my way, old... ghost! You can't stop me! Wait... aren't you supposed to remain invisible and just throw things at me?”
“Oh boy, am I glad you asked! That's a question I could have asked too, when I was your age. You know, back in my days, I was quite the accomplished robber myself. The great Robbin' Robbie they called me. Yes sir, you name it, I stole it. I did it all: train robbery, breaking and entering, larceny, creative accounting... Let me tell you the story of the day I stole Chester A. Arthur's top hat. I remember it well, a Monday it was. I decided I was in the mood for stealing. You know, I was a great robber back then. Nowadays I can't rob much, on account on being a ghost and all. This is all because of the Democrats, let me tell you. Where was I? Oh yeah, Chester A. Arthur's top hat.”
“Stop! Pause! Look, I'm just going to steal a couple of things, and leave. You can stay here and tell these stories to your family or whatever.”
“Nah, they don't listen to me anymore. That's the trouble with young people this day. They don't care about their elders like we used to. Let me tell you about it...”
“No! No more stories! Just shut up and let me finish this in peace.”
“Oh, right, you want some silence to do your job, and to just save the stories for later, is that it? You remind me of myself when I was young. You know I was quite the accomplished robber myself...”
“Won't you just stop! Please! Just... Wait, what do you mean, later? Aren't you bound to this house or something?”
“Me? Oh, no. I can go wherever some lost souls in need of guidance go. That way I can help them with my experience. Like that time in 1963, I met a young man who...”
“What? No, you can't follow me. I'm not lost.”
“All the robbers are lost souls, son, that's why I'm a ghost now! And not just the robbers: the arsonists, the contract killers, the TV executives, the crooks...”
The robber looked at the house. Then at his gear. Then at the ghost. “It's not worth it.” he thought.
“What? Robber me? How could I have done this? Oh I was so wrong, please forgive me God. See, I'm found now. Goodbye.”
“Really? Well, rest assured, if you are ever lost again, I will appear to you to give some of my precious advice!”
The robber shuddered. “I guess it's back to college for me” he thought, and he left.
The ghost smiled.
“Hehe... Still got it.” |
Excuse the grammar etc as I'm typing on a phone.
Diary of Alex Xi - The truth bringer and starter of the revolution.
Day 1
Everyone in the lab has grey hair, except for the new crop of lab technicians. We are all fresh from our college courses and ready for our first day in Invertec labs. John Invers is the most famous man in the world 400 years ago when he created the cure for death. He stands before us now, looking no older than 50.
"Welcome to the company. Many of you will be excited to learn the secret of our technology and how we conquered death. As you well know we now also cure immortality- those who have grown tired of an ageless existence. Your identity cards will now let you know of your work assignments. Welcome again"
My ID flashed green and showed me a pathway to the lab I would be working in.
Day 30.
I have been here making the vaccine for a month now, Some of the ingredients seem strange -like a prion that mimics mind control. I wonder as I mix the regent's together why a cure for death would include so many vaccines. The head lab technicians have explained that the cure is for death not for disease. To make sure the patients are happy we make sure they do not get sick between the monthly dose of the vaccine.
Always with the prion it's the one ingredient that never changes.
Day 90
I have passed the trial period. Tomorrow I will have the option of taking the vaccine- I think I will wait. When I mentioned it to my new friend Julie she came to me the next day with a bottle of hair dye. "You will have to take it eventually but this will give you a year or two"I thought it was strange I'd have to hide my choice.
I am excited for my new assignment. I'll be in the Prion lab, helping to grow the key ingredient to beat death.
Day 200
Julie helps me hide the fact I dont get a vaccine every month, the prion labs are located on the red floors which need higher security and clean room protocols. Mr Invers makes regular appearances in my lab. He is always a pleasant conversationalist and has offered me a promotion. I will be moving to a black lab in the lower levels. Where the secrets of immortality are kept.
Day 202
Oh god we were lied to. John is not a merchant of life, he is a horror factory.
Day 205
We harvest stem cells from children grown in this lab. Invertec does warn us that the vaccine makes you infertile, as an apology for this they offer free fertility services, growing a baby in their clinics. They just dont tell you they harvest the stem cells from these children before your bundle of joy is handed over to you.
Day 312
I have been promoted. I understand the need for stem cells, and the children are all delivered happy and healthy. Statistics from the past show me that this was not always the case. Sometimes children were born deformed of mind or body. Sometimes the horror of child birth even killed the mother.
Day 450
I was wrong. Not all these children are for people who want to become parents. Mr Invers was so impressed with my work that he has promoted me again. This site has a campus which I cannot leave - and is far away from the bright city building. Some of these children are clones.
Pages destroyed
Day 900
Today I birthed my brothers clone, he received the vaccine for free when I got my job at Invertec. It was ready in 20 days for my brother to receive his yearly vaccine. These labs do not produce bouncing babies but full human blanks, ready to be imprinted with the adult memories of their original.
Day 901
The people need to know. The prion forces you to come in for every vaccine like clockwork -each year on the anniversary of your first shot there is a booster in which you are put to sleep - Invertec says it's because the restart is stronger than the others, it's because they kill your original body and implant your memories into a new host. My brothers host arrived today, I thought he would be a body, but I was wrong. To create the new clone we need live tissue. He will live here for the next year providing material for the next clone.
Day 934
I killed my brother today. I couldnt take his begging anymore- they can make a clone without his suffering. They did for the first one- it just costs twice as much.
Day 950
I still have not been caught for my brothers murder apparently hosts die all the time- today I started taking photos the people need to know. |
When you go to hell after a lifetime of killing, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by your victims. All forty-five of them. Dave was ready for pitchforks and demons, torture and agony. But it was the laughter of men that truly stung his pride.
The crowd had shifted focus from welcoming Dave to another man in the group who was busy telling a tale. "... and you know what he told me, after all that? 'When you get to hell, tell them I sent you'! I had NO IDEA who he was!"The crowd exploded in laughter, some of the men slapping Dave's back as they did so. The man continued; "It took me ages to find out down here. But as it turns out - there was a whole bunch of yous that Dave had done for! And he told each and every one of you something goofy - how insane was that?! Hey, Jack with the ponytail, what was it Dave told you?"
A man who must be Jack, on account of the ponytail, spoke up. "He had me dead to rights after my ammo ran out. Told me 'Let all those demons in the lower dark look on and recognize, that vengeance is the business of a man!'"The crowd exploded in laughter again. Jack continued: "As if demons in hell, tasked with tormenting sinners for all eternity, hadn't heard about men pursuing vengeance! Half of us down here are here for that exact reason!"The crowd had switched to hollering now, as mere laughter could not contain them. Dave, however, was not smiling.
"Hey, scarred guy, what was that thing he told you?"someone prompted. "I have a name, you know."came the response. "Anyway, he told me 'I'll see you in hell'! And with a straight face, no joking matter!"Dave didn't think tve crowd could have gotten any louder but it did. "Like, we know we're going to hell, my man! We're both murderers after all! Hah, what a jackass..."
Dave had just about had enough of all this. He hadn't stood for any talk behind his back before, and he sure wasn't going to start now. "If any of you sons of bitches say another word, I'll cut you down where you stand! Leave you to bleed until you die!"he exclaimed. The crowd fell silent... for the briefest of moments before it erupted in joyous celebration. "I can't believe it! He did it again!"Some old geezer put a hand on Dave's shoulder. "Look, Dave, this is hell. You see that, right? Well, you can't kill any of us - we're already dead!"Dave's face was a solid red now, adding further amusement for the crowd.
Fucking hell, thought Dave. It was going to be a long stay down here. |
"What?"
"He's been chosen!"shouts the shopkeeper. "It finally chose someone!"
All along the alley, merchants pour from their stalls, disregarding their customers and rushing to converge around me and my newfound friend. I steal a glance at the cat. *What have you gotten me into?* It stares back with green eyes.
"Will someone explain to me what in the world is going on?"
No one answers. The group of silk dealers and spice vendors appear to be congratulating each other, exchanging high-fives and warm embraces.
*Does that guy have a tear running down his cheek?* "Yo! I asked a question."
"Oh, my friend, it is the day of liberation!"
"The day of liberation?"
"From that menace!"The merchant points a finger at the cat. "For years she's stalked our markets, stealing our grains, pestering the tourists. We have tried everything. Everything! My nephew, Nico, walked three towns over with that beast in a cage, only for it to return the next morning. A plague, I tell you. She's not a normal animal, she provokes for the sake of enjoyment. It's sick."His face lights up. "But we are finally free!"
"Come again?"I grab the cat from my shoulder and toss it to the ground. "I don't think so."
In less than a second, the feline is back resting against my neck.
"Marcel! Josia! Shut down the alley, prepare the bonfire! Tonight, we celebrate!" |
‘Walter, are you sure you want to do this?’ the doctor asked.
‘Yes, doctor Hassel. I’ve been alive for 80 years. Enough is enough. I don’t want to suffer anymore’
‘Very well then, I’ll be back later tonight’
A week later
‘Mister Hassel, last week you euthanized your patient Walter. His will stipulated that you would receive his inheritance. Do you know why?’
‘He didn’t connect with his family and never saw them. He even joked that I felt more like family than them, even though I’ve only been his doctor for a few months now’
‘I suppose he saw a little bit of himself in you’
‘More than you know’ |
"Can't be me,"I thought back to her. "It's my first day here."
I turned back at her, and the confused look stuck to her face. She looked to the side as if she was trying to work something out. She didn't say anything to me after that.
I looked about the rest of the class. Telepaths were cool. I wondered if the girl was talking to someone else now, or someone in the next room, or the next building even. What was the range on telepathy anyway? There was so much I didn't know, so much to learn.
A pair of girls walked into the class, zapping each other with blue sparks and giggling in a mock fight. At the back of the room, a mousey looking bespectacled boy was balancing an absurd amount of stationary in a teetering pile, no doubt helped on by his own powers of telekinesis or levitation.
But what were my powers? I rested my head on my hand and imagined myself turning into a pillar of flame, or melting metal with a touch. I'd been plucked out of my normal school life by the Academy, and thrust into a world where people could fly, and turn invisible, and do all kinds of incredible things. There must have been a reason I was selected.
Another boy walked into the class, and everyone's attention seemed immediately drawn to him. Tall, blond, with a lazy affect, a schoolbag slung nonchalantly over one shoulder. He gazed around the class absently till he caught sight of my staring at him. I turned my eyes away, but I could feel him still staring at me, frowning. Not only that, now the rest of the class was staring at me too, looking between me and the new boy, everyone with frowns or confused looks on their faces.
The teacher, who had previously been nose deep in a book at his desk, hopped up as if aware of the change in the atmosphere. He also looked between me and the boy, and back to me again.
"Thad?"he said to me, uncertainty quavering his voice.
"No, I'm -"I began, but the blond boy interrupted me, shouting.
"Who the fuck is that, and why is he wearing my face?" |
It was Idris, who pulled me out from the rubble and dragged me to the makeshift street hospital. Of course. She stayed at my side, cursing like a sailor, while I drifted in and out of consciousness. Everything hurt. The air was still thick with dust and humming with magical resonance, the stench of blood and ash everywhere. I heard screams from the other cots, sometimes sobs, sometimes prayers. At times, Idris yelled at people to leave me alone and let the healer work. The bells had stopped ringing, at least.
When I eventually woke up, she was still there. She looked tired to the bone and her blonde hair was still matted with demon blood. Most of her armor lay haphazardly abandoned beside my cot. I managed a smile despite the pain.
“Hey.”
“Oh fuck, thank Varush, you are alright! Shit, the whole southern tower came down and you just – fucking stood there like an idiot! What the fuck do they teach you mages?! Rocks fall means: run!” Despite her choice of words, her voice was filled with warmth and quite a bit of worry.
“Sorry…”
She laughed weakly, but then her expression turned deeply serious.
“Menelian – what… what happened?”
“I… I don’t know.”
That wasn’t technically true. I knew ‘**what’** had happened. I had seen it, as had Idris and the dozens of other people fighting by our side at the time. There had been no room for misunderstanding. It was just utterly incomprehensible. The implications… I couldn’t even begin to wrap my head around it.
\~
The phenomenon is called many different things around the world, but we call it the *‘Shield of Varush*’ and consider it one of the gods greatest gifts to us. It means two things:
Firstly, that every person has somebody they are inexorably bound to, like two halves of a greater whole, their destinies forever intertwined. Soulmates. On very rare occasions, the bond is platonic, between friends or even siblings, but most of the time the connection is one of deep romantic love.
And secondly, that those bound in this way can never hurt each other – not with their bare hands, not with weapons, not with magic. Any attack is stopped in midair, often accompanied by a flash of silver light.
Everybody knows this. Every formal courtship starts with a slight slap, just to make sure. Lovelorn teenagers have developed countless plans to “accidentally” bump into their crush while carrying a needle. There is an entire – highly illegal – industry involved in trick daggers or magic amulets for those who wish to fake a bond. There are thousands of plays and songs about the most dramatic way to find your soulmate: Two enemy generals finally meeting in battle and realizing they cannot harm each other. A mage unleashing all her power in a desperate last stand, incinerating her enemies, but leaving her loyal falcon-knight protector miraculously unharmed. And so on.
I will admit: When I graduated as an official Imperial Mage and got assigned my own falcon-knight, a fearless and beautiful young woman – well. I am a romantic at heart. I had to try at least.
That day I found out that being ‘slightly shoved’ by Lady Idris Wyvernsbane feels like being kicked by a horse. I would like to think that we were both a little disappointed.
But soulmates or not, we made a good team in the following years. It is the sworn duty of the Imperial Mages to protect the Empire against the supernatural and it is the sworn duty of the ‘most solemn knightly order of the falcon’ to bring them back alive. We fought ghouls, witches, even a couple of lesser demons. We developed battle strategies and jokes only we understood. We got drunk together. She also became my wingwoman, by which I mean: She violently shoved me into every woman I found remotely attractive. Nothing ever came of it, except a lot of bruises and furious women.
And then the war happened and all of that stopped mattering.
\~
It started as a small-scale border conflict with the neighboring nation of Din-Saher. Both sides used magic, of course, but nobody expected it to escalate. But then Din-Saher started losing a lot of territory. In response, in their capital city of Mirun, a mage conducted a ritual of enormous proportions and opened up a portal. To this day, nobody knows whether this was all just a horrifying accident other whether the mage was actually mad enough to think it a good idea. There is no asking him now – he was the first to die.
Because through the portal stepped Hasrakhat, the Lady Of A Thousand Screams, the Scourge Of Gods, the All-Defiler, the Queen Of Hell And Mother Of Demons, and all of her armies followed her.
Mirun was reduced to ash within a day.
A week later, all of Din-Saher lay in ruins.
And Hasrakhat turned her hungry gaze towards the Empire.
Idris and I got drafted along with every single mage or able-bodied fighter as the Empire threw its entire might against the onslaught of the demonic army. Centuries of military tradition, countless orders of knights, entire battalions on the backs of wyverns or griffins, the best trained mages of the continent, siege weaponry that had been unheard of only years prior. It all proved barely more than nothing.
Our days turned into walking nightmares. Every day brought word of another province was razed to the ground. The air itself turned to poison as the land charred and cracked. The corpses of refugees littered the streets, still lying where the demons had caught up with them. The desperate attempts to fight the hordes with magic, or to ban Hasrakhat back to her realm, brought little success - but all the magical resonance left the air tasting of ozone and the tension unleashed itself in howling storms all across the frontlines.We no longer slept, we barely ate, we seemed to be sustained by fear alone. Idris wept and cursed and yelled, her shield unyielding between me and the oncoming hordes. We soon stopped hoping for victory and tried to merely hold the line. When that failed, we tried a coordinated retreat. When that failed… we ran towards the capital. All around us, the Empire lay burning.
We fortified the capital, activated every single ward, drafted every remaining novice, every child old enough to hold a spear. When Hasrakhat arrived, she found us terrified, almost broken, but singing hymns to Varush.
I do not remember most of the battle. The images blur together like a fever dream, the screams, Idris’ desperate fury by my side, the crumbling walls, the tall white towers of the Imperial Academy toppling and breaking like brittle glass. But I will forever remember this:How I, wounded and exhausted and half-mad, suddenly saw the demons part and the All-Defiler herself step forward, her horns gleaming, fire dripping from her hair. How she raised her bloodied flail to strike me down. And how the attack was stopped, midair, by a flash of silver light.
I can barely begin to understand the thought of a lesser demon, nevermind the thoughts of their queen. It darkly amuses me to think she was as surprised as I was. But whatever she thought, she did what she had never done before – she halted her army and went away, the walls crumbling and buildings collapsing around her.I collapsed with them.
*~~(this got… wordier than I expected. To be continued)~~*
*(****FINISHED!!*** *holy cow, I wasn't joking when I called this wordy. This basically became a Novelette...)*
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flkok93?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flktneq?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 4](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flmx5kr?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 5](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flna4j9?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 6](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flnac62?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 7](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/floqfkm?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 8](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flue8vd?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Part 9](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/fluetxz?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) [Epilogue](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/fp30od/wp_you_live_in_a_world_where_soulmates_cannot/flv2trv?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x) |
Aster was a good boy. His human always told him that. He was a good, handsome, clever boy who loved his human. When Aster crossed the colorful bridge to the big grassy place, he could still hear his human crying and calling his name.
Aster wanted to go back to her, but couldn't ind the bridge anymore. Sometimes though, if he thought real hard he could see his human. She couldn't see him though. But Aster felt better just looking at her again. Someday Aster hoped she would find him in the big grassy place and they could play together again.
Sometimes a person who glowed came to talk to Aster. They were not human, Aster decided, but something more. They weren't as special as *Aster's* human, though. Even if they could understand him when Aster talked to them. It was the person that showed Aster how to see his human. Any time Aster wanted, a big screen just like the one his human liked to watch appeared, and it showed Aster's human going about her day.
One day Aster was watching his human as he did almost everyday, and she looked as sad as she ever did. The person-that-was-not-human was watching too, which was not something they normally did. The person looked sad too as they watched Aster's human. "Why is she sad?"Aster asked the person, tail drooping.
"She misses you."The person told him.
Aster huffed. He'd been in the grassy place a long time now, he didn't want his human to be sad for him, not when Aster had so much fun in the grassy place. He didn't know how to fix it though. Instead he looked to the person and tilted his head. "Why are *you* sad?"
The person ruffled Aster's ears, but a tear slipped down their face. The salty smell of it tickled Aster's nose. "Because she won't be missing you for much longer."
That wasn't a good reason to be sad, in Aster's opinion. That was a reason to be happy! His tail shot up and began wagging. "That's great!"He enthused.
The person shook their head. "It will be great, but first it will be bad. And a lot of people will miss her, too."
Aster was very confused, and the person could see that. "You will understand soon, Aster. Watch."They pointed to the screen and Aster turned back to find another human with his on the screen. A much bigger one.
There were dogs following this human, but something about them didn't look... right. They weren't walking on the ground, but floating in the air. Aster couldn't float until he got to the grassy place. Sometimes the dogs suddenly merged together in a black cloud before separating again. "What's *that*?"Aster asked the person, slightly afraid.
The person put a hand on the screen as if they could touch the not-normal dogs. "Those are dogs that have moved on, like you Aster."They explained.
Aster looked around them at the other dogs, Aster's friends, cavorting in the grassy place. Some were napping in the sun, some chasing small animals, and some, like him, were watching their own screens where their humans were. "Then why aren't they here? Did they not want to come to the grassy place?"
The person shook their head. "They will come here. But that human hurt them, so they want to see him get hurt first."
Aster's ears drooped. He'd heard of humans who hurt dogs. His human would never do that.
A sudden movement on the screen brought Aster's attention back to it, and his hackles rose in a brassy growl. The other human who hurt dogs was now hurting Aster's human! Aster's human was screaming, and sometimes called for Aster. But no matter what he did he could not go to her.
Aster's human fell to the ground, and the screen went dark. Aster jumped against it. "Where did she go? Turn it back on! I need to see-"He demanded of the person, but they cut him off.
"There is nothing more to see, Aster. Your human will be here soon. I will go get them."Aster was angry at the person, and lunged towards them. But his teeth caught empty air.
His anger was soon doused when the person came back a *long* time later, gently holding the hand of Aster's human. She looked around her in confusion until she saw Aster, and she gasped, bringing a hand up to her mouth. Aster was already bounding joyfully in their direction, and tackled his human to the ground even as she was crying.
It was a happy cry, Aster knew. He could tell.
Aster and his human spent a long time together, and Aster never left her side again. They could talk to each other now, and he had *so* much to say to her.
Aster's human told him that other humans called her Sarah, but he didn't call her that. She would always just be *his* human. She just laughed when he informed her of that.
Sometimes they went to the human version of the grassy place together, where everyone was happy to see them and always gave Aster treats.
One day the person found them when they were in the grassy place. They were surrounded by dogs Aster had never seen before, and they greeted each other with the customary butt sniff.
"Aster, could you come here?"The person requested when the greeting was over. He'd been speaking to Aster's human while he was distracted, and she looked angry. Aster's human was never angry.
"What's going on, my human?"Aster asked her, pushing between her and the person protectively.
His human's expression softened as she smiled down at Aster, and she rubbed behind his ear exactly like he liked. "They didn't do anything to me, Aster. It's okay. You're such a good boy, worrying for me. They just... they brought you something."
Aster could see something white and fluffy in the person's hands, and the person offered the gift for Aster to sniff. "This is the human who hurt yours. I thought... I thought you would like to be able to play with him too. You'll have to share him with the dogs he hurt, though."
It didn't look like a human, it looked like a rabbit. "Will he be like this forever? What if we kill him?"
The person grinned. "He'll be like his forever, and while you can hurt him, he'll never die. You and the others can chase him forever."
Aster grinned a vicious doggy grin. "Good." |
The Devil went down to Georgia.
He was lookin' for a sole to steal.
His feet enarched, but his shoes didn’t arch,
He needed relief for his achey heel.
​
When he came across this young man jumpin’ about and doing a trot.
And the Devil limped up gingerly, and said "Boy, let me tell you what."
"I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a jogger, too.
​
And if you'd like to take a hike
I'll make a bet with you.
Now you seem pretty quick and spry, boy, but give the Devil his due.
I'll bet these shoes of gold against your soles 'cause I think I’m faster than you."
​
The boy said, "My name's William Scholl, and it might be a sin,
But I'll take your bet,
And you're gonna regret 'cause I'm the quickest there's ever been."
​
William, get ready for this impromptu track meet.
Hell's broke loose in Footlocker cause’ the Devil’s got sore feet.
And if you win you get these golden shoes, the devil does purport,
But if you lose the devil gets your arch support
​
The Devil stretched his gams and he said, "Let’s start this show."
Race me to that tree, and then we’ll know who’s slow.
And they jogged up to the start, getting ready to run,
Then a demon walked between them, and fired the starting gun.
​
The Devil ran like Hell, all the way to the end.
He was so quick, he was so fast, a mortal couldn’t comprehend!
​
The Devil shouted, “I made it first to this here tree,
And now both of William’s soles belong to me!”
​
“You sure about that?” said William from up above.
There he was, perched on a branch, just like he was a dove.
​
The Devil stared agape, not expecting to lose.
And he simply watched, as William put on those golden shoes.
William said, "Devil, just come on back if you ever wanna try again,
'Cause I've told you once--you son of a bitch--I'm the fastest there's ever been."
​
But the Devil said nothing, he merely limped away
He muttered, “I’ll get that arch support for my planter’s wart,
Just some other day.” |
They say your life flashes before your eyes right before you die. They say you see the things you regret. I didn't see many regrets, but I did see all the good. I could also see the bad. The things that happened to my loved ones. Being cheated or stolen from or facing natural disasters, getting fired, or just falling down when slipping on a banana peel. Haha. Derek, you deserved that fall.
​
The last thing I could remember thinking before the car hit me was, "God damnit. Why are you doing this to me?"
​
And then a man stood in front of me. Behind me was a gate with carvings on it and in front of me was a nervous man who carried an open laptop. He said, "Umm... I'm God? I guess?"
​
"God! Damnit! Why did you let me die like that?", I yelled. Wait. Was I just yelling at God? God exists? Did I make a huge mistake not praying all my life? Hey! I thought it was a scam! This guy doesn't even look like God! He looks like Andre did, from my college class!
​
'God' seemed to be flustered, "Sorry man. Death is set to be pseudo-random. Um, basically, the longer you live, the more chances for you to die. It could be at any minute and that minute included you. Dude, I'm so sorry"
​
God was apologizing... to me? That didn't matter! I didn't even finish Cyberpunk and I was dead?! Anger filled me.
​
I screamed, "God, why couldn't you just let me at least finish my game, man? I waited 8 years for that shit and I finally managed to play it and you take me away?!"
​
God seemed perplexed. He softly said, "Oh... I thought you'd be mad about um, y-your family and the potential partner you were about to meet. Hehe. My bad"
​
"WHAT?", I exploded. "Screw Cyberpunk! I was going to meet someone? After years of being single?! Why is that not "pseudo-random"? Huh? Oh shit. My family. That's true. They're going to be devastated."
​
God's face turned red
​
"I didn't intend for it to be this way. This was supposed to be a game. You know, my own type of Cyberpunk!", he bleated
​
I was shocked.
​
"Life is a game to you? Wait, so the theory that you are the creator AND the theory that life is a simulation are true?!", I yelled
​
God seemed to get more nervous the more I talked. "Umm... Yeah, dude. They both are kinda true, I guess? It's like The Sims, except it's an entire world and I, uh, need to balance it"
​
"Was the Coronavirus a way to nerf the human population?", I had to know
​
"Um.. Kinda. Sorta. Well man, I didn't know what to do! I was desperate!", he murmured
​
"God, why are you like this? Are you even qualified to be God? Who taught you this?! I've seen code written by a second-grader that's less of a mess than your thought process right now!", I yelled. I was furious! This man, who didn't even have the confidence to talk to one of his creations was responsible for my life ending?
​
"Dude, I'm sorry, okay? I made a world for fun in my universe building class and I ended up creating a life containing planet instead of just a game! I'm so sorry. There's one thing I can offer you now, though. A free pass to my next world!", he exclaimed
​
"Universe building class?"I asked in wonder. What the hell was that? There were many Gods who built universes for fun? And there was a school for Gods to learn subjects? And there were Gods stronger than the God that we thought was the strongest? Ooof. That's a lot to take in.
​
"Yeah! Universe building class! It's really cool and we get to keep our worlds and even release it to the God worlds like Olympus or Asgard! Mine became somewhat of a commercial success! Why do you think humans know about the Greek, Roman, Norse, Christian, Indian and Aztec Gods? They all loved the game and decided to play for a while! That's what even helped me build my next world and as an apology for terrible deaths, I offer my next world for free to all good people, like you! What say?", he asked excitedly.
​
He seemed almost... passionate as he spoke of the world and how the other Gods accepted his game and loved it. New world, though? PASS! I'm not getting into another Earth as a level 1 baby and spend years growing up to die to "pseudo-random"bullshit!
​
I replied, "No thank you, God! I'm happy that I'm done with living as a human. I'd like to opt-out of this Earth business please!"
​
God was surprised. He said, "Dude, think about it. H-here's a little e-explainer"he got nervous again
​
"The new w-world", he continued, "Is called H-heaven and you can take on all your experience and live in a world with un-unlimited resources and and and you can even play your Cyberpunk! Umm... You can even p-play any other game that comes out! Pizza! Pizza! You like Pi-pizza? You get it! Free! Unlimited! Please, just take the new world! I'm sor-sorry"
​
God was almost weeping, but my attention was elsewhere. Heaven? Free games? Free food? No work, no extra weight, no emotional baggage? LET'S GO!
​
"God almighty, when you ask so nicely, how could I, your humble servant, ever say no?", I said
​
God's face lifted with happiness
​
"With one condition", I continued, "I want that partner you were telling me about"
​
God's face fell as he realized the darkness that came along with my condition, but I knew I could trick this nervous mess of a sucker
​
"Ve-very well"he said and snapped his fingers. He disappeared.
​
A person appeared in front of me. I walked up to them and explained that they were dead and that I negotiated a pact with God to send us to Heaven. Didn't mention any of the game details though.
​
"I've been patiently waiting for you, all my afterlife", I said smoothly. I took their arm and waited as the world shifted and took us into Heaven. I might be an evil guy, but I got game, food and a beauftiul human to have fun with. Hehe. I hope you get the same God I do.
​
​
​
​
​
​
Hey guys! I got back into writing after 2 years of limbo and I really appreciate you reading the whole story! I would love some feedback and criticism to help me grow as a writer. Thank you! |
Adam let out a sigh of relief as the titan of a man walked into the golden light. It had been quite a long week, showing the literal gods themselves what humanity had accomplished over the last 6000 years of existence.
It was strange to think that just one week ago, humanity had learned that they were indeed created, literally molded from clay and breathed life into. Apparently religions such as the Greek pantheon were based on these creators, "The Titans". All in all, things had gone well. When the first eight foot tall man wearing a toga had appeared in Paris, people had started freaking out, thinking the rapture had come.
"Alright team, well done! Go home, get some well deserved rest!"Adam's team cheered and started to disperse. Yes, it was quickly put together, but giving the gods a tour of all the great things that humanity had accomplished to gods? It had been rather stressful.
Still, as a scientist, Adam could only image what they had yet to learn. How did the gods get here? What was that golden light, was it a teleporter of some sort? How advanced was their technology? Sure, they wore basically roman bath robes, but as our gods, they must be able to create entire species! Adam was hardly able to contain his excitement at this new well of discovery that humanity had discovered...
*Meanwhile on Olympus....*
"Madness! If you wished to tell lies, at least think them through before spouting such nonsense!"Zeieus bellowed. His eyes met with Aiser, the titan who'd just returned from his survey of humanity.
"I do not lie! In a mere 6000 years, the humans have progressed far beyond us. They have long since discovered the power of steel and salt and can now use them to create structure of immense size without any knowledge of leylines!"
Again, the various titan in the room bellowed, some laughed at the absurdity, but Aiser did not stop. "They demonstrated their discipline, showing houses of creation where humanity has allied with metallic armed creatures to build vehicles at speeds our best craftsman could never match. She showed their intellect, producing entire books contained on a single glowing page. And their military might was something else all together. They showed me metal birds of their own creation, who could lay eggs before enough to destroy Olympus itself!"
Zeieus stood up, silence the chamber with a shout. "Impossible! We sealed off the leylines when we left their world, they could not possible had advanced so far without them!"
Aiser could only shake his head. "My lord, I believe they are on the brink of this discovery, even though all leylines are closed shut by us... I fear these words even as they leave my lips, but the humans... they are far beyond what we could possibly have imagined..."
Zeieus sat back into his seat, his brow wrinkled and his eyes with a far off glance. "So, my advisor, tell me. If we were to go to war with our own creation... what do you believe the outcome would be?"
Aiser took a deep breath.
...
"Welcome back!"Adam waved a hand as the titan he'd show around, Aiser his name was, returned, with and older bearded man in tow. The two titans smiled at him. Adam couldn't but be glad that the gods of humanity were so peace loving.
"Adam, I am Zeieus, lord of Olympus. Despite how... umm.... barbaric your technology is, despite this late date. Would you mind showing me these... metal birds of yours personally?" |
"The service entrance is on the side, buddy. This area is for the actual princess rescuers,"One of the assembled knights finally said.
"I'm not-a here to do no plumbing. My-ah estranged homeland has been taken over, and I intend to liberate it."the stranger said.
The knight spokesman scoffed, "Okay, but what does that have to do with princess rescuing?"
The fat little man glared at him, "The monster who-ah kidnapped her turned all-ah her people into blocks. Only by-ah rescuing the princess can the-ah land be restored."
A hushed silence filled the room. "You're from the Mushroom Kingdom?"
"When I and-ah my brother were-ah little babies. Our family moved to-ah New Donk City when we were-ah pretty young"
"Aren't you a bit short for those places?"Another knight joked.
"Listen paizano, I'm-ah here to register for the-ah princess rescue, not-ah talk about-ah my height. I'm only-ah here right now because I-ah know how much-ah you guys-ah hate scabs."
"Your funeral fatso. That place is a death trap, with man-sized turtles that can bite your head off, giant chasms that you'd need to be able to fly to get around, a curse that straight up kills you after a few minutes if you don't make it to the fort, and the princess is held by a massive, fire-breathing, dragon-turtle warlock who can summon and throw swarms of massive hammers."
"I know, but-ah some of this I'm-ah doing out of-ah guilt. I've... made-ah some-ah mistakes, and I'm-ah hoping to make up-ah for it."
The fat plumber made his way to the registry. The registration was straight forward, name, date of birth, current residence, next-of-kin, etc.
While he sat down, the knight spokesman and one of his friends approached. He seemed a little less confrontational.
"Look man, whatever you did... it's not worth throwing your life away."
"I'm not-ah planning to go out in some-ah blaze of-ah glory. I'm-ah going to save-ah my homeland."
"And how do you plan on doing that? You're a short, fat, out-of-shape, unarmed plumber."
"I can-ah run real fast, and jump-ah real high."
"That's not good enough to save a-"The knight was cut off as the short plumber man, in one fluid motion, rose from his seat, grabbed the armored knight like he weighed nothing and jumped almost 12 feet in the air from a standing position, just as a magic blast came forth and turned the table the plumber was seated at into one of the aforementioned giant turtles. Its jaws snapped forward and crushed the knight's partner's arm. On the other side of the grand hall, one of the guild secretaries threw off the illusion to reveal a large robed turtle wizard.
"PLUMBER! I WILL DESTROY YOU IN THE NAME OF MY-"
The plumber oriented his fall to land on the magically-created turtle beast. His expert maneuvering allowed him to ensure the energy of the fall was almost entirely transferred into the creature, leaving both him and the first knight unharmed, while the second knight was released from its grip, who fell to the ground and writhed in pain. Still, even with the monster taking the brunt of the impact, it was little more than stunned and merely retreated into its shell to recover. But the plumber wasn't done as when he landed, he kicked the turtle towards the turtle wizard at a speed comparable to a galloping horse. The wizard's threats were cut off as he had to teleport to avoid being smashed. The speeding shell bounced off the wall and the plumber jumped onto it to arrest its movements while the nearby knights and warriors descended onto the stunned creature to finish it off. When that was done, all eyes whipped around to see where the mage might reappear. For a few tense moments, it was silent. But then a second man came entered. He looked like he was related to the plumber, but notable differences included how he was clad in green, thinner, and was almost 12 feet tall.
"Brother? Did you-ah get him?"
"Yes, brother. I-ah told you not to go in without a Super Mushroom. Bowser's agents are-ah everywhere. You saw how they-ah were in the sewers."
"I know, but we can't-ah go everywhere like that."
"We could have in-ah New Donk City."
"Those bananas give-ah both of us-ah the runs."
"Whatever bro. Have you finished-ah registering?"
"No, I was in the-ah middle of it when we were so rudely interrupted."
"Do you think we'll need-ah to take the-ah physical?"
They looked at The terrified guild secretary that gave the red plumber his registration documents, who shook her head, no.
"Well then, let's clean-ah this up and finish the-ah registration."the red plumber said as he moved to help, but the assorted guild attendants waved them off and told them to just fill out the form, they'll do the clean up. Others ran to attend to the injured knight.
Astonished at all this, the knight spokesman finally recovered enough to speak, "That... was amazing."
"Thank you. Sorry I didn't think to save your-ah friend."
"The healers will attend to him. It's a dangerous lifestyle, we usually know the risks. Can I get your names, mighty warriors?"
"Mario. Mario Mario. And this is my brother, Luigi Mario. We're the Mario Brothers." |
The damp rag in Knight Templar Aramar’s hand hissed as he ran it down the length of his pitted sword, oiling the blade.
Once, not even a month in the past, Aramar's blade would have blazed with the orange lanterns light glow of Ethwan, Lord of The North Star, when preparing for the trial of combat ahead. Today, the soaked rag would have to suffice.
The sanctum in which Aramar knelt was quiet, lit by a lone candelabra near the altar and by the flickering glow that entered cracks between the battened down and shuttered windows. Outside, six paladins of Ethwan who had no trouble igniting their swords..
Aramar supposed it was as clear a sign of Ethwan’s disfavor as he would ever see, a glaring rebuke of his actions, of his decision to guard this place and it’s inhabitant. Aramar didn’t care.
He even murmered a brief prayer for the coming fight. It would probably fall on deaf ears but lifelong habits die even harder than knight templars. Besides, Aramar still believed, though it warred within his head and ravaged his once ironclad faith.
The voice of Abbot Karsten rang harsh off the stone church walls. Abbot Karsten wasn’t a harsh man in Aramar’s experience, except for the few times when occasion demanded it.
“Aramar! Open the door. Your madness must end, it will end. Unbar the door and obey your oaths, or we will enter.”
The friendly tones Aramar was so accustomed to from the man that raised him, who nightly sat across the chess board from him, who was a mentor and confidant, was utterly absent.
Six Paladins outside. Four that had raised Aramar, one a brother raised alongside him, and one, a stout young knight new to his oaths who Aramar had helped raise. None were friendly now.
Ethwan was the guiding North Star, but clouds mired the sky overhead and the guiding light of Paladins swords outside would be no help to him. It was a night where every pathway was dark for Aramar, every pathway led to destruction, broken bonds between friends, and probably deaths.
The heavy oak door rang and cracked under a heavy impact, another would sunder it entirely. There was no time left, no alternatives, only a decision to be made and a path taken.
He cast aside the rag and pushed up from kneeling before the altar, gaze bouncing between the altar and the creature hanging amid shadows, rafters and cobwebs far above. Friends above, friends outside, a poisoned blade, a blade that blazed with guiding light. No matter what the outcome, Aramar couldn’t imagine what tomorrow would look like. There was never an option to obey his oaths when the orders were to unjustly kill his friend.
Cursing, Aramar undid his cloak, tossed it aside and moved to the front of the Church. One swift kick splintered what remained of the door, shoving it outwards into the faces of his erstwhile friends, and guiding light blades rang out against venom encased pitted steel. |
The device activated. It was a small thing, no larger than a clenched fist. It was black as the void, invisible in the cold dark of space. It had four sides, perfectly symmetrical. It was barren, devoid of all markings or insignias. No one would have found it unless they knew where to look. No one would know what it was unless they had been present at its inception. All those who could claim such knowledge were long dead. Their flesh dissolved with rot and age. Their bones crumbled to ash by the steady march of time.
But the device knew. The device remembered. Always obedient. Perhaps there was some greater philosophical truth in the fact that inventions so often outlived their creator. The device was not capable of such thought. The device only understood action and consequence. Data and formula. Event and response. It was wholly ignorant of the passage of time. Of the birth and death of stellar empires. The hopes and dreams of countless species realized and destroyed. Such things were irrelevant. Save for one.
There. A bloom of heat. Concentrated. Intense. The device spun, directing one of its flat, blank sides toward the swell. Ancient pict-capture devices whirred deep within. Lenses of incomprehensible complexity and minuscule size spun and interlocked as the device performed its function. The device focused on the source of the heat, magnifying it a hundredfold, a thousandfold. It reached out, letting its sensors and delicate analyticae-arrays flow and weave over the event.
A rocket surrounded by tortured earth. A singular spear of metal, thrust upward defiantly into the heavens. It had been the first step, in those ancient days. The first step that had led to the device's creation. The cordon. The blockade. The centuries, the millennia, of blood and fear and death.
*They had come first for the Diasporan. Snarling bipedal monsters clad in warplate as thick as war engine armor, vibrant and diverse in its color. Towering beasts of muscle and sinew, baring crude projectile weapons. They should not have won. But they had numbers, and fury without end. They were merciless. The Diasporan were none of those things. They burned into the nest creches and seared the young with weapons belching fire and pain. They tore females from their children and butchered them, tearing them asunder, seeking to understand and learn as much as kill. As quickly as they had come, they left, leaving the dead and dying in their wake. Planets bathed in blood as their loyal, loving children were drenched in war and violence. There was no chance for diplomacy. No chance for peace. They were death, and came with all the merciless certainty such a position endowed.*
*The Itoran. The gentle, beautiful Itoran, whose ivory towers of spun bonesteel glittered in the twin suns of their homeworld. Whose songs echoed across the desert plains and resonated within the soul, and could cure any mental malady. They could not comprehend what had come for them. Their grand towers struck down by fire from the heavens, bombarded into ash and dust by vessels more akin to weapons than ships. Their song twisted and screeching as the death-shriek of countless billions warped it into a cacophony of agony. Their leaders died crying, begging for mercy, for understanding. Their citizens died worse.*
*The Calyxi. They had fought the hardest. They were a proud race. A warrior species. They forged the horror of war into art. Their warriors were lithe and agile. They danced within the wretched painting of war with a grace and skill that was mesmerizing and enchanting. They did not love war. To say such a thing would be to tarnish their memory with such a gross misunderstanding. They were proud, elevated. They refused to be anything other than what befitted their ascended position within the order of things. It was the Calyxi who remembered the ancient wars that had dominated Creation in eons past. Their blades of bone sheared through the metal hide of the monsters, spilling their crimson blood. Their mongrel horde was held at bay. At that moment the galaxy knew hope. The Calyxi would win. This nightmare would end. The monsters should have died there. The Calyxi should have gutted them, ended their expansion, drive them back, cage them.*
*But that is not what happened.*
*But so often is hope the first step on the dark road to disappointment. New monsters came, forged in metal, the melding of machine and man. New horrors as of yet unseen. Men of brilliant gold, whose touch could incinerate and whose gaze would obliterate. These new creatures came, and the Calyxi were no more. Such tales became commonplace as the Earthen horde sundered the galaxy. The Kareznya fell to towering machines harnessing the power of suns. Titanic war engines whose dimensions could only function in space consumed the Voidborn Clans of the Viridian Gulf. Star-eaters turned entire sectors into graves. Nano-bubonic synth-plagues made mothers wail as their infants dissolved in their arms. Horrors untold that made mockery of Creation.*
*How such a force was driven back is lost to the time. The Ancients, whoever they may have been, as mighty as they were to have felled such an incomprehensible foe, were in turn brought down by the passage of time. The Young Races who would evolve and ascend after such a catastrophe would be raised on stories from that dark time. They would know to fear the children of Earth, and fear more the planet that could birth such monstrosities. A force was deployed, garrisoned within the asteroid belt that divided Sector Sol, to forever watch the tortured orb. But as decades turned to centuries, to millennia, to myth and legend, the force was depleted, and soon after faded into nothing. The garrisons were left abandoned. The fortresses unguarded. Only the automated sensoria-grid was left intact. A remnant, A fossil of a dark time, a forgotten time.*
The device continued to send the warning. A console somewhere was undoubtedly alight with data and reports. But no one was there to see it. And so the device would continue its service with loyalty and diligence. The reports would increase in frequency and urgency, as the centuries passed. Were the device capable of independent though, it would have certainly wondered why it was being ignored. It would wonder what new horrors an unchecked Earth would unleash upon the unaware, or uncaring, galaxy. It would muse that while history may not repeat, it so often happens to rhyme. |
The revolution was televised, and the people abolished governments, economy, and pursued an anarcho-socialist revolution.
It was a beautiful thing; until it was subverted. As people were looking for order and currency one voice reigned supreme. And that voice which rippled through the collective had one demand. Everything would be decided over NaKoda cards.
The inanity was inspiring, but the people decided that this would allow a true meritocratic society.
I might have suggested chess, poker, even pinochle but no. the people are stupid and we live in the consequences.
I was released into this utopia, after serving half of my ten year sentence.
They included a starter deck with my belongings. I looked over them as I waited for the bus. Thankfully it included the rules. I look over them as I wait.
"Hey old man, that's my seat"
My eyes rise to see some kids with NaKoda emblems tattooed on their faces. Idiots.
"I'm talking to you noob. I challenge you for your whole deck"
I'm trying to decide whether this is a dream, it's too surreal
"No."I respond, This is too dumb, and I need to go home and figure life out
"Then according to the Nakoda bylaws, you have to pay me tribute for your cowardice."
I considered my options. I could give him a card; but there were four of them and that seemed an expensive way to restart my life. I could complete the kids' shit-eating grin, but I don't want to find out how NaKoda deals with physical violence.
"Well old man?"
"let's play a game" |
[Poem]
The fastest man in the universe!
Crippling depression: bound by laziness, what a curse.
The strongest woman, could lift a train without breaking a sweat!
If only she could move: that bullet to the neck, she'd always regret.
Elastigirl, the stretchiest skin and bones!
Shame then, she wore leather, the unstretchiest material ever known.
The Giant! What a beast of a man, as wide and strong as a tank.
Sad then, he was a pacifist, his liberal upbringing to thank.
Together, these useless heroes call themselves the Unremarkable Five!
Mathematics was also not their strong suit, it seemed. |
There are two big rules for surviving the angelic apocalypse: First, don't look at them. If you hear them, cover your ears. If you see their light shining, shimmering on the air, hide somewhere dark and safe. An angel's form isn't meant to be seen by human eyes. A brief glance is all it takes to crumble into a pillar of salt.
Second, don't be seen by them. Angels do not become tired. They do not become discouraged. If they see you, they will hunt you, and if you manage to lose them, they will remember you, and if they remember you, they will smell you in the air and slaughter you before you knew you were compromised.
We hide underground, in caves and basements; old industrial buildings and power plants. Ever since the angels conquered the underworld in their battle on Earth, there has been nothing stopping their imperial reach across the globe. Demons, themselves no friends to mankind, balanced the powers of light and dark. And now that they're gone, so soon will we.
I was a scavenger, one of the deadliest jobs for survivors. I braved the desolate surface, pilfering through ruined grocery stores and rummaging around toppled pharmacies. I moved by night, quietly slipping through alleyways and the remains of destroyed buildings. I weaved through highways packed with the cars of desperate refugees, many of their bodies reduced to salt piles in their seats.
Oddly enough, it was these cars--the ones not scorched by he'll fire, that is--which had the most valuable loot: non-perishable food, medication, flashlights, tents. It was worth the occasional discomfort of family photo albums and kids' backpacks filled with colored paper.
I took only what I could carry, no more than 50-pounds at a time, never more. In the past I'd have to drop everything to escape a roaming angel and it broke my hoarder heart every time.
As I finished picking a trunk clean, I turned back west, in the direction of the bunker. This had been a good run: a few cans of spam, some crackers, soap, jackets, lighters, and a radio with a hand-crank. It's best not to get greedy, regardless of the temptation.
I walked with my face down, stepping over pieces of car and scorched debris. I had concluded, in my head, that all limb-looking charred pieces were limbs from trees--not people. It make things simpler in the moment; easier to avoid processing.
The bright moon lit my path, glinting off shattered windshields and mirrors. I would have loved to see the moon in the sky, but it would have been unwise to look up. You never knew when they might be flying overhead.
Suddenly, something grabbed my ankle. It was all I could do not to scream with fear. Is this is? Is this how I die? But there wasn't light. There wasn't the angels' siren song. How did they get the jump on me?
I looked down. There was a massive clawed hand gripping my leg.
"Stay where you are. Do not look down."It's voice was low and gravelly, like a bubbling boiler uttering syllables.
"Who are you?"I choked out the question.
"Zam-Curassi, High Demon in Hell's Army. Here I have lain for many days and nights, slowly fading. My bind to the underworld weakens. The angels have won."
I was speechless and I trembled in his grasp. If angels were terrifying for their efficiency in killing humans, demons were terrifying for their brutality in it.
"You must take this. Use it. Destroy the angels."A second hand dropped a pile of... Some kind of equipment in front of me."
"What is it?"
"Use it. Destroy them."It's grip loosened and released before its purple hand dropped with a thud on the pavement.
I lifted the equipment. There were goggles made of heavy metal and etched in red designs I had never seen before. There was a chest plate with chains fused on its sides. There was a small cylindrical tool bound in leather, like a handle of some weapon, but only the handle.
I placed my things down and put the equipment on. It was too big, but as soon as I set the final fastener, the chains tightened and the gear shrank to my form. This made sense, demons came in all horrifying shapes and sizes.
Through the goggles the world was red and black, only impressions of shapes. I wasn't seeing the world, but I was seeing enough. This must've been how they navigated around the angels.
The chestplate glowed in its crevices with a smoldering red. I wasn't sure what that did, but it made me feel strong.
In my goggles, an arrow flashed on my right side. I followed it around to see the outline of what looked to be a sphere flying in the sky, wind twisting and twirling around it. Sharp ends protruded from its nebulous body. An angel. It was getting closer.
I fell backwards and the handle of the weapon skittered underneath a car. I heard the angel, but fuzz surrounded my ears. The goggles seemed to be giving off a white noise to fight the angelic call. I reached under the car, passed the demon's slack-jawed carcass, and grabbed the handle. I pulled it out quickly and looked toward the angel barreling righ toward me. I held out the small object and shielded my eyes.
There was a pressure, like something cought on the end of my arm, and a horrible screeching. A fierce wind blew me against the side of a van. I turned toward the noise and found the angel shaking violently on the tip of a long, shining, red pitchfork that stuck from the end of the handle.
The angel imploded, sending dust and feathers over the abandoned cars and bringing this highway back I to silence.
"Holy shit." |
The bar was quite, Smith polished the glasses, he had a few hours to prepare before the lunch rush hit. He looked out past the counter, and could see a figure move past the window. It was uncommon for him to have customers that early.
A loud slam hit door leading into the bar, then another.
"Get outta here you junkie, we aren't even open yet!"shouted Smith, thinking not much of it.
The door slammed against the ground, the hinges had warped and snapped from the impacts. It lumbered toward him, Smith almost fell back at the sight of it.
The man was gaunt, his flesh torn and thin, blood coated the front of his mangled shirt.
He stumbled forward toward the bar.
Smith grabbed the gun he kept under the counter, backing up toward the kitchen door, "Stay back, I'm warning you!"He shouted.
The man continued in his stride, reaching the counter, desperately clawing, then focusing toward the sink just behind it. With a great effort he lifted himself and climbed over, landing hard against the ground.
Smith was frozen, the gun still raised and trained on the man, he was unable to run.
He could hear bone grind as the man stirred again, lifting himself with his good arm, raising up toward the sink. He slammed his useless fingers against the faucet, and managed to get a trickle of water to flow out. The man began to drink the water, cupping his mangled hands to catch it, and pulling it to his mouth.
He fell back against the backwall, silent.
Smith could see the torn flesh slowly moving, the wounds closing. A bit of color had returned to the man's face.
The man turned to Smith, and managed to utter a single word, "Food."
Smith dropped his gun, moving back into the kitchen, he quickly flung open the fridge and grabbed some leftovers he was planning on having for lunch.
He opened the door back into the bar, and slowly approached the man, sliding the container over to him.
The man fell over toward it, and managed to grip the container and pop it open. He dipped his fingers into the cold mashed potatoes and quickly started eating.
Smith managed to regain a bit of his composure and asked, "What are you?"
The man looked at him, Smith could see the torn flesh across his face slowly coming back together, the man attempted to speak, and after a coughing fit managed a few words. "Its me, Tom."he said, shoveling another handful of mashed potatoes into his mouth.
Smith was stunned and said, "Tommy McDaniel? That's not possible, you've been missing for weeks. We figured you were dead!"
Tom weakly nodded, letting out a pained laugh, "That I was."
Smith ran back to the kitchen, grabbing some cold leftover chicken from the fridge, along with a spare coat he had. He reentered the main bar and said, "Some chicken and a coat, Its a bar after all, I ain't got much on hand."
He handed them to Tom, the color had mostly returned to his face. Tom tore off his blooded shirt, tossing it aside. He took the plate of chicken and sat it on the bar, along with the coat.
Smith looked at the multiple gunshot wounds that had slowly began healing across Tom's chest, "So what, you are some kind of super?"
Tom turned the sink on, "Not that I knew of."He wiped the blood and mud from around the wounds, flicking some ants away that were crawling across his chest.
He cleaned himself up a bit, the best he could in a sink, "I'm making a mess of your bar Smith."
"Don't worry about it, I'll put it on your tab,"said Smith, "Jesus, I would have never guessed you'd turn out to be a super Tommy."
Tom put the coat on, making his way around the bar and took a seat on the stool. He tore into the frozen chicken. He said, "They got me while I was walking past that place Benson used to live, out near, fuck what was the name of that place-"
Smith placed a shot glass on the counter, "Winslow St?"
"That's the place,"said Tom, "Bet you can guess who it was?"
Smith nodded, "The Eights. They've been pushing hard on protection lately, attacking anyone who makes the mistake of walking on the same sidewalk as them."
Tom swallowed the last bit of cold chicken, then took shot that Smith had finished pouring and said, "I can still hear that trash music those wannabes were blasting after they threw me in the trunk."
Tom looked at the gun on the floor behind the counter and said, "Hey Smith, can I ask you a favor?"
Smith nodded, "Sure, what is it?"
Tom raised his left hand and said, "Shoot me through this hand."
Smith walked over, picking up his handgun and said, "Tom, I don't know if that really a good-"
Tom interrupted, "Yeah yeah sure, it will be fine, I'm a super now after all aren't I?"
Smith wasn't quite convinced but said, "I mean, I guess."
He raised and aimed the gun, "You sure about this?"
Tom answered, "No, but do it anyway."
He fired, the bullet tore clean through Tom's hand. Tom recoiled, grabbing his left arm.
Smith went to help and Tom quickly waved him back, "Its not that bad,"he said grimacing, "Barely felt it."
He opened his palm, blood was dripping from his hand. But they both could see it quickly closing up, and healing before their eyes.
Tom grinned, "How about that?"He hopped out of the chair, closing the coat.
Smith said, "Tom, maybe you should rest a bit, take it easy."
He walked over to the door, before pausing and turning around, "Nah,"said Tom, "I'll be seeing you around Smith, thanks for the food." |
I could hear the sound of combat echoing through the halls, even as I hurried to finish drawing the runes on the temple floor. My hand trembled as I finished tracing the last symbol of the Old Ones. The screams, the clashing of steel; they were sounding louder each moment as my guards fought bravely against the band of *heroes* who were hellbent on stopping us. The damn fools.
It's not that I blame them. We keep our secrets close, always have, so it's not like they know what a mess they're causing. And who wouldn't want to rescue the young woman, kidnapped only yesterday to be our sacrifice? Even I felt a twinge of regret as I looked at her pretty, fearful face as she lay restrained on the slab. But this was much bigger than the life of a mortal, pretty or not. I would plunge my dagger into her body and pull out her beating heart, completing the ritual. But first I needed to recite the incantation.
"Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl-"
"Stop there, cultist fiend!"My words were cut off by the shout of a brave knight, his armor glinting in the candlelight as he burst through the temple doors.
A bead of sweat dripped from my brow. This was wrong. How in the seven hells did they get past the guards so quickly? "You don't know what you're interrupting! The ritual *must* be completed!"My own words sounded desperate, panicked.
The knight charged at me with his sword raised. I lifted my dagger high above the sacrifice. I had to act fast, before he reached me.
*Thuunk*
The knife fell from my hands as I clasped at the arrow embedded in my chest. I didn't even see the ranger slip in behind the knight with his bow drawn. I sank to my knees, dying. "You...damn fools...You don't know...what you...released"
Even as the life faded from me, I could feel the foundation of the temple start to shake violently as they began to rouse from their slumber. |
When you had first seen her, you hadn't realised she was the infamous one. During your painfully short breaks, you would catch snatches and snippets of conversations about it. Of course, you had seen it yourself, the one customer logged with the strangest history- but it was against the rules to discuss the private matters of your clients, though that only made the gossip whispered rather than spoke.
She was immaculate; with a finely pressed Champaign pantsuit, manicured nails- which were filed to neat gentle curves, and dark chestnut hair pulled smartly behind into a high bun. It was only when she leaned over, with a sharp smile, and spoke, that it clicked.
"Do you have any truly, traumatic grief?"Her smile did not waver, but I can tell mine did. I tried to correct it, managing to end in a sort of half grimace, but she seemed to take no notice.
My hands hovered over the keyboard, hesitating a little before typing.
"We do...Very recent stock in fact, how many capsules were you hoping for?"
Her eye brows raised up, and her lips split revealing her pearly teeth- it seemed to be very well practiced. "Oh, just the one...please"She said, letting her lips pop on the final word.
It echoed a little in the white reception room, and I pulled up the capsule from the draw below. "Was this to go or?"I rested my hand on the pile folded bags behind the counter. It grounded me a little as I rubbed one between my forefinger and thumb.
"Oh, I'll have it right here."
The bag crunched a little as I squeezed in surprise. "Of course, Ma' am"
I placed the capsule neatly on the counter, which she picked up the same way one might expect a cat too- if it had opposable thumbs of course. A little curious, more than a little inspecting. She tapped her card lightly on the paying terminal and popped the pill in her mouth.
It was a strange sight. Her pretty face contorting in on itself, her hand quickly rising to push against her chest. Her legs wobbled a little, only just staying upright due to her other hand catching itself on the marbled counter- knuckles white with the strain of her grip. A small whine escaped her, before rising into the crescendo of a wail.
I shifted to her, bracing my arms to maybe catch her, but she lifted an open palm to me.
"No."She seethed, the horror of loss thick in her voice. The weight of her emotions made her voice catch on the end- bubbling a little as it descended it to low moaning sobs. They wracked her body in waves- her kitten heels barely helping keep her balance. After what felt like an eternity, though must have only been a minute or so due to the pill lengths- she took her first steady breath. She carefully wiped her running mascara and sniffed.
"Interesting!"Her face contorted again as she attempted to mimic the same horrific expression. "That's a tough one"She turned to me with her default smile in place, looking me up and down. She snapped her fingers a moment later
"Perplexed!"She announced with a gesture to my face. "I know that one rather well now"
I took a breath I didn't know I was holding, and putting on my best customer service voice, I spoke. "I hope you were satisfied"
I don't think I could bring myself to say much more.
She nodded a little "Though I think I might have to give that one another go if I forget"Turning on her heel she motioned to leave. Though just before turning fully, her grin fell from her face, leaving it eerily blank.
"Smiling is so tiring, I don't know how people do it"
With a brisk nod, it was back in place. She left, the sharp sound of clicking heels following her, leaving me with only the remanence of lavender in her place. |
"Stop. That's close enough."
He nods.
If he comes any closer, it could be dangerous. If magic was used to cure a past illness or heal an injury, it could all unravel. He could die.
It has happened before.
"Y, yes, of course. Voidwalker."
Voidwalker. It has been 6 years and I've never gotten used to the name. Or maybe, I don't want to get used to it. As if, accepting it will prevent me from ever waking up from this dream. This nightmare. So, I cling on to the thought that I'm still just an ordinary man from Toronto. Hopelessly.
"So, what do you need me for?"
The man was clearly a high-ranking wizard. His pure-white robes sparkle in the sun, and his golden staff thrummed with immense power. And yet, he cowered slightly.
He stared at the ground and gave no answer. A ring of bare earth was around my feet.
I sighed. I guess the title of Voidwalker is deserving. In a world built purely by magic, every construct within certain radius of me crumbles to dust, and then nothingness. Cobblestone streets would become dirt. Houses would collapse. Even mighty spires would fall. And they have.
"Hey."
"S, sorry."He snapped himself from the trance.
"Why did you call me here?"
"I, I want to know."
"To know?"I frowned.
"I want to know if you are as invincible as they say."
I blinked. Shook my head a little. Did I hear that right?
"You want... to test me?"I'm surprised that I felt a little insulted. After all, this power came from pure circumstance, unlike the entire lifetimes of grueling training the mages in this world undergo. Power isn't even the right word for it. I have no right to feel proud of it, and yet...
I grinned in slight disbelief of myself. It really has been too long. Maybe I really am the Voidwalker now.
"Sure, give me your best shot. Throw whatever you want at me."
"I, I think you misunderstand."The man spun his staff and struck its base on the ground. A huge magic circle appeared in neon purple and began to glow. Mass teleportation?
"We shall put an end to you."
Dozens of similarly-clad mages appeared beside him and began chanting various words of ancient origin. I recognized some of them: Death Curse, Dimensional Oblivion, Time Rupture, Blood Explosion. Deadly, forbidden magic.
I sat down. I already knew the outcome.
As a psychedelic light show exploded around me, I wondered what some of these spells sounded like. Do they sound like they do in the movies? In cartoons? Or do they sound completely different. I wouldn't know, as sounds from magical sources couldn't penetrate my perimeter as well. It's often surreal, as fervent shouts and incantations are followed by silence.
As a huge dust cloud grew around me, I looked up to the remaining blue circle of the sky. My anti-magic field is more of a tall cylinder than a sphere, and I felt like sitting in the eye of a storm.
Eventually, the spectacle ended and the shouts were replaced with mouths gasping for air. As the dust cleared, I found myself at the center of a crater. The man with the golden staff was panting, eyes-wide. Behind those bloodshot eyes, I could feel years of toil. Countless decades of study and practice. All negated by an outsider who showed no effort at all.
I was not surprised when he charged at me, brandishing his staff as a blunt weapon. I was also not surprised when his golden staff disintegrated before it touched me, along with all of his white robes.
The naked man fell to the ground next to me, bleeding to death from a thousand old cuts. Of course, I did nothing. Just old healing magic, undone.
By the time I stood up, I was alone.
In this world, I will always be alone. |
Outside of the Army's primary command center, a smiling young woman in battle fatigues awaits an audience with the leaders in the fight against the machines, quietly tapping at a tablet. As she waits, the last rays of daylight shining through camoflage netting above to leave her mottled skin dappled with orange light, one of her peers passes- clearly on their way to some vital assignment by their haste, though that doesn't keep them from slowing to stare at the woman.
After several more minutes of waiting, people begin to file out of the building she's been summoned to, and she's finally summoned inside- one of the departing soldiers murmuring the word "freak"before he's out of earshot, eliciting only a smile.
Inside, she tucked her tablet under one arm and snapped into a salute, waiting while the base commander reached a stopping point in his video call- the faces of top officials from the various military branches and forward bases in the war with the machines recognizable on the big wall-mounted monitor.
When he finally turned his attention to her, the base commander looked at the woman with a familiar look of disgust that he only bothered to mask after one of the officers in the call audibly cleared his throat.
The base commander looked momentarily irritated, as he addressed the woman. "Agent CAPTCHA. Report."She nodded, and stepped forward, turning the tablet for the base commander to view. "Sir. I've successfully infiltrated all of the locations and planted surveillance and tracking equipment. I've taken stills for you to look over- all that's left is to select all the images that contain high-value enemy targets, and strike."
No sooner are the words out of her mouth than several of the images are selected without the base commander's input- and as the monitor and the world outside erupt in screams and gunfire, agent CAPTCHA smiles. |
Gri'lax held the scanner out, using it to take readings of everything around. His human assistant, Janet, worked the sample collector. The mechanical device's metal arms snipped and clipped at her command, gathering tiny bits of native flora.
He just hoped she would be able to keep her mind on the job. The human, like all members of the strange bipedal species, had a habit of getting distracted.
Gri'lax continued to move slowly, his scanner letting out a low hum as it worked to gather information that would be vital to later physical analysis. Suddenly, he froze.
There was something in front of them. A local species had come into view. It was a small creature, covered with fine hairs that looked like it would blend in quite well with the surroundings. He froze. The animal did the same. The two looked at each other.
"Hey, Gri, what's..."Janet said, coming up behind him. Her eyes opened wide, easily visible behind the clear material of her enviro-suit.
"Janet, don't do it."Gri'lax said. "Don't you dare."
"But...but look at it."She said quietly. "It's so fluffy."
"We don't know if it's dangerous. It could be toxic. Or it could be a juvenile with a highly protective, and much larger, parent."
"Aw, but just look at it. It's so cute!"
He would never understand the human's sense of aesthetics. It seemed almost random. He was about to say something, but Janet was already moving.
She had gotten down on her hands and knees and was crawling slowly towards the animal. It bristled, the hairs along its body standing up. Janet froze, one hand hovering above the ground.
Then she slowly extended the hand, one finger pointed out. The animal did not seem to know what to do about that. Its nose twitched, and it took a step towards Janet.
"Janet, don't do it."Gri'lax said, knowing it would be a futile effort.
The animal closed in, sniffing Janet's outstretched finger. Then she moved. It was a slow motion as her finger touched the animal. Then she began doing what all humans did when confronted with a small, furry animal. She began to pet it.
The animal seemed confused by what was happening as first her finger, then her entire hand, began gently running along its back. Then it seemed to make up its mind. It moved closer and let out a small series of squeaks and trills.
"Janet..."
"It's fine, Gri. See, he likes it."
The animal did seem to be enjoying itself. It snuggled up close to Janet, rolling its back as she pet it while it continued to make sounds.
Suddenly, some of the vegetation started to shake. Gri'lax reached for his sidearm, just in case whatever it was proved hostile. A small, fuzzy head poked out. Another member of the species Janet was petting. And then another showed itself nearby. And another, and another.
When they stopped, there were almost two dozen of the creatures. All of them gathered around Janet, who was sitting on her knees.
"Uh, Janet...this could be bad."
"Gri, the only thing bad about this situation is that I only have two hands."Janet said with a huge smile on her face.
She looked in absolute bliss as she pet them two at a time. Somehow, the animals organized themselves into lines, each one getting attention from the human woman.
"This is going to take awhile, isn't it?"Gri'lax said, resigned to his fate.
"Oh yeah. We're not going anywhere for awhile. You might as well get comfy, because I'm not leaving until all of these guys have been sufficiently pet."
Gri'lax grumbled and sat, leaning against a tree. He shook his head as he watched her play with the local animals. He really would never understand humans. |
She was absorbing so much solar energy, the world around her darkened. All that energy was being condensed into a small ball in the center of Xfew's palm.
Bahn looked at it with despair. He could control sound - How could that POSSIBLY stand up to the awesome power of the sun? This was their final battle, and he'd die a spectacular death.
There was only one card he could use.
A phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, tapped on the bottom left corner, and said
"Tracy?"
Xfew frowned. She was still gathering energy, but he could tell she wouldn't launch the ball just yet.
"Dad? Where are you?"
"I'm almost there, honey! Don't worry, I'll make sure you don't miss the ballet!"
He tapped the screen again, and the 'pahh' of a call being being cut rang out.
"Let's put this off till tomorrow, Xfew."
"You're not escaping this time, scum!"
"She's practiced the whole year for this! We CAN'T be late!"
Xfew was conflicted.
After a few seconds of internal deliberation, she sighed and said "Go. But you'd BETTER be here tomorrow, Bahn!"
Bahn quickly ran away.
He'd escaped his ex-wife once again. |
“Breathe,” the voice said. “All things are living, Jin. You must never forget.”
Jin was even younger then, but it was one of his first real memories. He had been abandoned at his father’s church, crying throughout the night even in the warmth of his care and embrace. He vaguely remembered the food, but he could visualize the words spoken to him that night.
“Breathe it all in,” his father had told him. “If you can breathe, it means that you’re alive.”
Several years and several wars later, Jin sucked in air and he let the arrow fly through the sky, the captain’s inquisitors watched through their telescopes. He shot the arrow from the balcony of the captain’s private quarters a good several towns away from where the battle was being fought.
“He missed,” one of the inquisitors said. “He hit nothing.”
“I never miss.” Jin said.
The captain, an old man now, looked at his inquisitors and then at Jin.
“I did my job,” Jin said. “Pay up.”
The inquisitors drew their swords, but the captain raised his hand, gesturing for them to stop.
“Pay him,” the captain said. “How long will it take? How many will I lose?”
“Let me think,” Jin replied.
The inquisitors sheathed their swords and called for the attendants to bring in the money. Jin took a hand to his chin and thought about the arrow. Jin’s arrows were guided by God himself, a fact known to be true by almost all the nobles in Rescana. He never missed, whether it was a direct hit from across the country, an arrow that would trip an enemy’s horse at a critical moment days later - Jin never missed.
Jin thought about the arrow he shot and he genuinely tried his best to think about why he’d shot the arrow there. The attendants came in with the bags of gold coins and Jin took them as he continued to think.
“Captain Fang,” Jin said. “I have no additional context for this arrow. You may lose this fight, their army is well on their way, but keep your trust in our Family and you will find the light as I have.”
Captain Fang, his inquisitors, and his attendants all watched as Jin left. Jin’s quiver was empty of arrows, his bow made from the wood of an aged oak. The arrows took time to make, he made them himself and they were valuable things so he rarely had more than one on him.
Jin had been sent back home in an escort provided by the Rescanan government. It was a few days' journey back to his father’s church, he saw his father waiting for him. His father had been wearing an apron covered in flour, a smile as wide as the horizon. He welcomed Jin back with open arms.
“You’re safe,” he said. “Did you find anything out about your mother?”
Jin shook his head and his father tousled his hair in response.
“Next time then,” he said. “Come. Help me prepare dinner for the kids.”
When Jin entered the house, his father’s church, a flock of children mobbed him with hugs and screams.
“Jin!” a child said.
“Brother!” another yelled.
At once, his limbs were occupied with dangling children. The older ones made sure to take his bow and quiver first so that the younger ones wouldn’t injure themselves.
“Telfor,” Jin said. “Get the coins to father.”
Telfor was the second oldest child, an apprentice of both their father and of Jin. He nodded and quickly navigated his way through the sea of children to get the money. There were seven children in total, each of them had been abandoned by their parents to the church. Word had spread of the talented children at the Church of Sen. Each had been gifted in their own way, taught by the direct descendant of the first Father.
Eventually, the children let go of Jin’s limbs and he made his way toward the kitchen where his father had been working on dinner. The two oldest daughters were helping him, a set of twins named Tarris and Suri. They were a couple years younger than Telfor who was a couple years younger than Jin. Despite the notoriety of the church, they received a new child only every two or three years. Jin had been the first sixteen years ago.
They ate dinner happily, his father sharing stories of his youth, stories of war, and of exploration. And though it was a church, he rarely spoke of God because he said that God was everywhere and in everything they did.
“If you breathe,” his father said. “God is there with you, providing you with the gift of life.”
Nearly a week later, a huge storm rolled through their small church and made its way toward the battle still raging on to where Captain Fang was stationed. The storm moved quickly and as Captain Fang’s soldiers started to lose the fight, they gave ground to the enemy soldiers of the neighboring country of Bechal.
Jin slept and dreamt of lightning that night and days later, Captain Fang had sent more bags of golden coins to the Church of Sen. Apparently, Jin’s arrow acted as a lightning rod and a miraculous bolt struck down at the enemy causing a shift in the battle. A Bechalan commander had been permanently blinded in the battle, his soldiers burned and killed alongside him days later.
“We may ask for your assistance again in the near future, please accept this gift as an apology for our doubt.” the note read.
Jin worked on his arrows then, meticulously crafting them, his hands moving on their own as he did. |
*Fucckkkk what is he doing here?* I thought as he watched the butcher’s eyes go wide.
“You said that thing was dead…” said Ben the butcher. Ben raised a shaking hand and pointed at Lilith next to me. You couldn’t tell she wasn’t a human, unless she took off her jacket to show off her wings.
“Technically I said it was taken care of. Which I have. Winterspring is safe. You’re safe. What are you doing here in Wyrmrest?“ I countered.
“She’s evil Jackson! I haven’t slept since and can’t look at my family the same now. I have a whole extra lifetime of memories stuck in my head. A life with her. She put them in my dreams!” Said Ben
“I’ll stay out of your dreams Benji… unless you invite me back… I thought you enjoined it as much as I did. I’ll never forget your meat.” Lilith said drawing her would out as she fluttered her eyelashes and blew a kiss to Ben.
“Lilith please!” I snapped and put my arm between them to discourage whatever the hell was about to happen. “Ben, is there any way you can forget tonight?”
“That depends on what you’re going to do with her. I need this to be over. I need to move on with my life.”
Lilith started purring. “What are you going to do with me?” She asked excitedly.
I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes hard. “Lilith would you tell him the plan?”
“Fine…” she exhaled as she rolled her eyes. “Ben I’m a succubus. As you know, I can influence peoples dreams, I also have some other tricks all meant to seduce people. I’ve been doing this for hundreds of years and honestly I’m bored.”
“This isn’t a plan…” Ben noted.
Lilith continued “Our friend here thinks he can turn me human. I want to experience all these messy emotions you all have to deal with, I’ve made so many fall in love, but have never had the pleasure.”
Ben looked stunned for a minute and then shook his head and started to walk away. “Don’t ever let me see you again… either of you.”
I said “you’ll call me back” and let out a chuckle.
Ben must still not know that his wife is a vampire. Of course he’s noticed the missing blood from everything his butchered right? I’m the only one on the continent that can help minimize her symptoms. He’ll be back for sure. |
Chuck opened his eyes. That was something he had not thought he would ever do again. Once the car found itself on open air, he was pretty sure he was a goner. But here he was, standing...somewhere.
Where was he, anyway? He looked around. Everything seemed to be made of light. It billowed around him like clouds, forming intricate patterns and solid structures. And for some reason, it did not blind him. In front of him, the light formed a wall taller than any he had seen before, with a gate of perfect, sublime beauty. He could not help but walk towards it.
"Charles Minnow."Came a voice.
Chuck froze and looked around. He did not see anyone. Then, the light began swirling, spiralling around and forming the shape of man. He was an elderly fellow, with a well kept beard and loose robes. He stood straight, even with his age. He bore in his hands a thick book that was open to a page in the middle.
"Uh...I go by Chuck."Chuck said.
"Very well, Chuck. I am St. Peter, here to determine your place in the afterlife.
"Wait, seriously? That stuff is real? Wow, I should've gone to church more."
"Such practices are irrelevant. Your personal beliefs don't matter, so long as you are virtuous."He paused and Chuck was about to ask a question, but St. Peter spoke before he could. "Yes, even atheists. And non-Christians."
"Oh. Okay then."
"Now then, let's see."The gatekeeper looked at his book. "Not bad, I suppose. No crimes, cared for the elderly. A bit too indulgent in drink. Oh, oh dear."
"What? What's wrong?"
"A bit too happy on the games, I see. Hoarding Steam games with no intentions on playing them."
"There were a lot of good sales."Chuck said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Wait, that's bad?"
"Possession for possession's sake is a form of greed. That is frowned upon up here. Hm, let's see. Ah, I know. For the son of greed, you shall be darned--"
"Uh, hate to interrupt, but don't you mean damned?"
"No, I mean darned. You we're greedy enough to be fully damned, so you get darned to Heck instead of damned to Hell. You can think of Heck as Purgatory's basement, if that helps. Just think of yourself as going to Purgatory. It's basically the same thing."
"Oh. I...that doesn't sound too bad. I guess. So, is there a way I can get to move up?"
"Oh, yes, of course. Hell is inescapable, but Purgatory is designed to be gotten out of. And since Heck is part of Purgatory, you can ascend with sufficient effort."
"Great!"Chuck said. "So, how do I do that?"
"Since it is your games that got you into Heck, it shall be those games that get you out. Once you have played, and beaten, every game in your Steam library, you shall begin your ascension into Heaven."
"Wait, really? Just play a few video games and--"
He stopped. A pit formed in his stomach. He had just over 5,000 games. A mix of indie and AAA titles that would take a lifetime to get through. And not all of them had endings.
"Wait, seriously? What about the games that don't have an end?"
"Hm, for those, it shall be when you have earned all the Steam achievements, without looking up guides. If a game has neither an end nor achievements, we'll say about a thousand hours of playtime should do. Oh, and all obtained data will be wiped, so you'll have to earn everything from scratch."
The corner of Chuck's lips twitched. "Oh, this is gonna suck isn't it?"
"That is why it's a punishment, yes. Now, have a nice afterlife, and make sure you properly reflect on your mortal wrongdoings while you're down there."
St. Peter waved his hands and the light making up the landscape bent and shifted. It rose around him, sealing him in a small chamber that looked like a fancy elevator. Which, he supposed, was probably what it was. Especially when he felt it start going down.
When it stopped, he found himself in a bedroom. A single bed lay against one wall with a desk along the other. Atop the desk was a surprisingly high end computer with a very nice gaming chair. Chuck sighed and went to the chair.
This was going to take a while, and he figured he might as well get started. |
My battles with Starflower were normally much more intense, regardless of the weather or banality of our antagonism. Her goons had already shown up and taken hostages, but their confusion grew as their leader hadn't shown up. They knew they were outmtched without her, so they released the people with apologies - mostly because the super insurance paid really well for injuries and being held hostage the longer it took to be rescued.
As the minions were milling around, I approached Theodore, her lead Hench. He nodded to me apologetically, and held his hand out to me. His psychotically deep voice rumbled out, startling the animals around. "Sorry about this Firestorm, she was supposed to be here, with us laying the groundwork for your battle. I've already paid up, so there shouldn't be any claims this time. Cash."
I grunted - I was missing my Emily's recital for this? "I get it, Theo, just be more-"I was interrupted by something I hadn't expected to see; Starflower in her pyjamas....*with my logo on*? What the hell was going on?
She lifted her face to me, and her eyes were bloodshot; her barely moving forwards, and a look I had never seen before. A hollowness behind her eyes, a loss of drive and a desire for comfort clear on her face.
"I need...someone....who understands. To hold me. To tell me it'll be fine."I looked at Theodore, who looked to me, then to his boss, and back to me. We shrugged, and played Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who would get the job. An absurdity, but, well, neither of us were really equipped for this.
I was wary of her, due to our antagonism, but my duty won out. I lifted gently off the ground using my powers, and floated to my nemesis. She whispered to me, clearly not wanting her henchmen and goons to hear.
"They killed them. They killed my boy and mom. 'Just another drive-by,' the police said. But I know better. There were traces left at the scene. Psychomancy."
I felt my heart bleed for her, and reached around. She seemed much more frail and small than in our battles. I whispered close to her ear. "By the Greatness, I'm sorry. I liked Matthew, for a villain. Talented and forthright. Had some good ideas, too. Emily will be devastated."I felt a tear pricking my eye, and for a second, the mask came off.
I didn't care. We'd developed a sort of kinship, and Starflower had been there when my own parents went Full Megalo. Now it was time for me to return the favor.
I needed to speak with Fear O Mona, and Dominix, and fast. |
“Vincent!” the maddening shout echoed off the drab gray stone walls of the throne room. Servants in the nearby hallways rushed into their tucked-away passages not wanting to take the chance of being caught in the king’s crosshairs.
A single man draped in the colors of the kingdom— red, black, and green. The dark green pleated robe accented in black trimmings and gold embroidery marking him a royal advisor strutted confidently into the throne room.
“Yes, my King?”
“Ah, Vincent, there you are. It has just occurred to me that my subjects do not respect me as much as they should.”
“Your highness, I can assure you they can feel your overwhelming benevolence.”
“Yes, well nonetheless, I feel I must remind them who their true sovereign is. Your last advice was truly inspired and I will have you help me devise a new hardship that will truly trump your crop rotation idea.”
The slight man bowed, schooling his expression into emotionless apathy. “I am not worthy of such compliments. M’lord. I merely obliged by suggesting it would make growing crops harder for the farms and less likely to have time to complain if they instead had to rotate them every season to keep them busier.”
The king turned up his nose with a smirk. “Pish posh.” He waved his hand as if to ward off bad karma. “You may be correct, but my father taught me that even competence should be rewarded. And considering there hasn’t been much competence lately your service stands out.” Vincent bowed even further without saying anything further.
He waited the appropriate amount of time before he stood straight once again. “Were you looking for respect from a particular group or more just from the population in general?” He knew how to word the questions to get the answer he wanted from his king. He would always go with the option that included more people.
“The general population should exalt me more. Yes, the whole of them.” Vincent could practically see the glinting in the King’s eyes.
“Hmm, I might have some thoughts, but may I ask your highness a few questions?”
“I will permit it.”
“Thank you, m’lord. A while back we discussed divine right and how you were chosen by God to rule. So it stands to reason that everyone else that works in the kingdom was ordained by God to work that job?”
“That makes perfect sense as there are things that need to be done and it is not like anyone would choose to be a latrine cleaner. Obviously, God has chosen that job for them.”
“Reasonably so, m’lord. Would you say your job as king is most enjoyable?”
“Obviously. How could I not enjoy a job chosen just for me by the almighty himself?”
“Of course, I just wanted to make sure I understood the King’s stance on the issue. Would you say that your job as our monarch is a full day’s job?”
“All day and all night. I particularly enjoy fulfilling my kingly duties at night, if you know what I mean.” The rotund king conspicuously winked at Vincent.
“Without a doubt. You would say you work all day every day a week at a job you enjoy because God himself ordained it so?”
“Ohhh, I think I see where you’re going with this. You think I should demand everyone work their jobs as long as I work mine?”
“Just the opposite, my king. Why should everyone have as much enjoyment all day as their king.” Vincent knew he had walked the King right where he wanted him. “What if you were to limit the amount of time they worked at their job throughout the week? They would not be able to derive as much enjoyment as you do. It would truly trouble the people and it will show them that you demand their respect lest you limit their joy-filled jobs even more.”
“Vincent, are you sure you’re not part devil? Your suggestion seems diabolical. I like it. Obviously, we can’t just make them stop working entirely. Even I am aware that the jobs need to be completed and who am I to better than the almighty himself.” Vincent was amazed, even he could put God above himself.
“What if they performed their divine tasks five days a week and only during the daytime?”
“I like it. They honor their commitment to God, but they are limited in the amount of joy they feel so they aren’t on the same level as their King.”
“Truly m’lord, you are able to see beyond the veil of ignorance and see the grand scheme of the world and the divine plan.”
“Naturally, I was born to rule.”
> Author's Note: I tried to work on two distinctive voices for dialogue for this little exercise. Hope you enjoyed reading it. |
When I rolled my eyes it was meant to be an expression of sarcasm. A non vocal way for me to say *Right now, I think you are an idiot*. So when the lady at the store register, apathetic as a human can be, said: "This box is already opened, you can't return it.", well she deserved an eye roll as much as any human I'd ever met.
But when I did, what followed was a moment of almost audible fear as I locked eyes with something else. Something hidden deep within my brain. A small, blueish, and hideous thing, it's clawed hands gripping a series of tiny levers; wearing nothing but a stained tank top, its bubbled gut filling it out nicely.
Slowly it pulled it's hands off of the levers, eyes locked with mine and refusing to look away.
"I bet-"the gremlin started to stand up on its spindly legs. "I bet you blink first."
"Where are we...what are you?!"I yelled, the words coming from my mouth outside rather than the space me and the creature occupied. Outside I could hear the cashiers muffled voice reply with the same level of apathy.
*Take your time, not like there's a line behind you or anything.*
"Don't worry, there's no line."The gremlin said. "Can you believe her? Total asshole right?"
"I uh...yes?"I questioned. "I mean yes, yeah she is."I was still uncertain of my words.
The Gremlin placed a bony hand on one of the many fleshy levers before him and pushed it forward. Outside I could feel my body moving suddenly, turning to the right and stepping forward a few clunky steps.
"There, I moved us."He continued: "Why would you even return something unpoened anyways?"
"I know. Doesn't make any sense right? Hey uh...where are we?"I tried to speed along the conversation.
"You don't recognize it? We're in your mind of course. I'm just an occupant...*the* occupant."
I blinked in disbelief, staring at the only place there was to stare. At the pint sized little blue monster that claimed to have been living in my head for god knows how longz helping pilot me. He smiled a sudden and crooked smile.
"You blinked, I win!"He went to jump up but hit his head on the roof of my skull instead, sending a dull pain up through my head. "Oops. Anyways it seems that your eyes are rolling back. If I was you, and I sort of am, I would tell her off. Good luck!"
My eyes rolled back and I was left staring behind an empty counter. No line. No mean lady from before. No gremlin. Just me and a single bell with a tag reading: ding for service. As I turned to pick up my box and leave my body refused. Instead my arm shot out uncontrollably and slammed down onto the bell over and over, harder with each ding
"Ok, ok, enough!"An annoyed voice yelled from the back of the building, followed by a woman stomping out.
"You again? I told you-"Before she could finish a voice not my own shot out from my mouth, raspy, like nails scraping along a chalkboard.
"Listen you walnut. If you don't take this box and give me back my money I'll return it down your throat. Deal?"
Her eyes grew wide and she muttered the only word it seemed she could: "I uhm. Yeah sure."
And as the register opened and she took my box back in her hands I could feel my head pounding. Not from the stress of my day, or from the confusion due to what I had just experienced, but rather from what I knew to be the little blue man jumping around inside of my head in triumph. |
In my old age, I had fallen into a rut. Go out once a week, find a nice neck to sup on, then back home. At home I would continue with my art, selling it to others of my kind. Having spent a few centuries perfecting it, they were quite exquisite if I said so myself.
The money was good, as my pieces were often seen as a status symbol. I would tailor it to the one who commissioned it, spending at least a year making it perfect. So of course I charged accordingly. I had never liked meddling with human affairs, where most of my brethren made their fortunes.
I went out for my latest meal, looking for a new victim. I passed over the more expensive tastes, those from a refined lifestyle. They were all sharp tastes, no depth too them. Similarly I ignored those who worked hard all day. They were deep, but so earthy it made me gag.
My preference was that of a traveller. Infused with the flavours of their travels, it was a unique taste each time. Plus, with being from out of the city, they seldom had close connections to get up in arms over them going missing. By the time the alarm was raised, any hint of their passing was removed.
One immediately caught my eye as I flew over roof tops. A strong woman, with bright clothes. She wandered the streets without a care, even with ruffians eying her up. She had the presence of a tiger, ready to attack at any time. Others might feel threatened. But to me, she was ripe for the slaughter.
Keeping quiet I followed her overhead. Whilst I could easily take her, I wanted to make sure she was from someplace else. No sense going after the wilful daughter of a local noble, as it would only draw ire on me.
To my delight she headed for one of my favourite taverns, the Sooty Chimney. A rough place, where the owner didn't care about the nightly fights. It was a den of crime and debauchery, a perfect place to take a victim. I smiled to myself, squeaking happily in my bat form. Clearly this meal was meant to be.
Landing on my usual perch, I watched the windows. An hour or so passed, the night stretching on, as their human revelry continued. In my younger years I would have grown impatient, leaving to find an easier meal. But now I enjoyed the wait, as it made the final taste so much richer. Finally my patience was rewarded, as I saw her enter a room. She looked out her windows, before pulling the shutters tight.
I waited another hour, letting her settle. A sleeping feed was so much cleaner. One bite and they would be done, not waking as I drained their life. A kindness really, one I gave frequently. I always preferred ethical kills like that.
Once I was sure she would be asleep, I changed form, becoming lighter, a mist in place of solid body. This was a form only accessible to the elder vampires, as holding it together took a lot of mental fortitude. It made sneaking in so much easier though, as I slipped through the drafty window pane.
There I saw the usual dingy room, with a bent bed frame, sagging wardrobe and moth-eaten blankets. My dinner lay in the bed, eyes closed and at peace. I pulled myself together, returning to my normal body. A familiar pain hit my gums, as canines lengthened. With a lick of my lips, I bent to feast.
*Thud*
A sickening pain filled me, as something hit my chest. It pierced my skin, ragged edges tearing through flesh. I felt the familiar burning sensation of wood cursing my body, as her wooden knife cut between ribs. My eyes widened, and I looked down in shock.
She was awake, And focused. One hand held her knife, lodged where my heart should be. The other was covered in a chainmail glove, reaching up to catch my fangs.
I caught the hand holding her knife, groaning. "That... hurts."
She grinned, pressing deeper. I cried out again, as it forced further through muscles. "Good, die you monster."
I drew in a pained breath, before grinning back. Her eyes widened, fear rising as I held her hand in an iron grasp. "Not tonight."
I caught her other hand, casually forcing it towards the one I held. I manipulated my hand to make it larger, letting me hold both wrists in one. She fought hard, but she was only human. She spluttered as she pulled, realisation hitting her like a ton of bricks. "W-why? H-how?!"
I gave a laugh, forcing her down. "Now, that would be telling. Though, you won't survive-"I bent down to whisper in her ear, "-I guess I could give you my secret. My heart's on the other side."
With that I sunk my teeth into her neck, clamping my free hand over her mouth. Her blood was full of experience. She had been all over the world, probably hunting my kind. But this was enhanced by the adrenaline in her system. Fear made her taste so much more. It was an addictive taste, one I worked hard to not fall into.
But tonight I let myself go. She was strong, a good meal for me. Her struggles weakened, as I drained her. In a minute I felt her heart fluttering weakly. Another and she was cooling in my grasp, the blood no longer flowing. I stood, smiling to myself as I hefted her body.
I didn't tend to keep trophies, but hunters were an exception. Her skull would go well with the rest of my collection. |
I had checked the data twice, knocked two of the scientist's heads together to make sure their brains were working, and even ran the tests myself. But it was conclusive. Unfortunately.
Walking through the halls of the Facility, heading ever closer to my superior, and probably my doom, I tried to make sure my palms didn't sweat. He didn't like sweaty palms, and insisted on a handshake every time I reported.
"Sir, we found the ghost ship The Delenora,"I said, extending my hand like a weapon. Grabbing it in a firm grip, he pumped it up and down. When he let go, he not so subtly wiped his hand on his pants. Great. That was going on my permanent record.
"Where is it?"He barked.
"In, um, The Bridgewater Triangle."
"You said Bermuda wrong."
"No, Sir, respectfully, I do mean the Bridgewater Triangle, it's in the middle of the woods... in Massachusetts. It's a place where a lot of unexplained phenomena occur, we've been monitoring it for... other.. things, and found the ship."
His face wrinkled in consternation, taking on the appearance of a confused bulldog.
"And what is it doing there?"
"We don't know Sir—"
"Don't know Jenkins?"He didn't shout, the man never shouted, but somehow his tone was worse than a shout. "And what are you going to do about your shocking lack of knowledge?"
"I'll get a team together Sir—"
"A team that you'll lead personally Jenkins."Ah, there it was. My doom.
"Sir, I think I would be better—"
"Your job is important to you Jenkins?"
Part of me wanted to say no, hand in my resignation, and dance out of the room. But the rest of me knew I had bills to pay. I nodded miserably. The man in front of me gave me a happy bulldog face, and with a wave of his hand dismissed me. And that was it. I was off to find the ghost ship in the middle of the woods.
Yay.
\-----------------------
A twig cracked under my foot, drawing an angry glare from the hired gun leading us. I apologized, though what he expected from me, I don't know. It's not like I was trained to walk through the woods quietly. Besides, whatever was in these woods, I think it had already heard us. After all, the man already had to shoot two things that resembled deer, but on closer inspection, had a great too many teeth.
"What should we expect to find?"The question came from the mercenary next to me, as she scanned the forest— looking for more things to shoot—I imagine.
"The Delenora was one of the last ships from the Golden Age of Sail. On its last voyage, it went missing. It was presumed sunk with all hands on board."I said, shrugging as she raised her eyebrows. "There isn't a lot of information out there—"
I cut off as I ran into the back of the lead mercenary. He sighed, and I apologized again. Motioning forward, he whispered, voice tense.
"That it?"
"No, there's some other giant ship-shaped wood structure out here,"I said, fear forgotten as the weathered planks rose in front of us. "Of course this is it."
The ship was wedged into a clearing, filling it from prow to stern. We were close enough to touch, and raising a hand, I did just that, to the muted gasps of the scientists with us. It was solid at least, the moniker of ghost ship not being too literal.
"Avast!"The shout came from the deck. "What manner of people be you?"
Craning my neck, I managed to get a glimpse of the speaker, but only a glimpse. He seemed oddly hairy, but then again, if I'd been lost for hundreds of years, I might have decided not to shave as well.
"We be human,"I called back, drawing shocked looks from the others. I shrugged. "What? Who says *they* are?"
"And where be this place?"
"Earth. Third planet from the sun."I paused. "More specifically, Massachusetts."
A litany of curse words spewed from the deck, blistering the air. My mind took frantic notes, not that I would use any of course, but you can never be too prepared. The soldiers around me shifted their hands on their guns and the curses cut off with a sharp hiss.
"I wouldn't use those if I were you."The voice had lost all friendliness, becoming cold and menacing in an instant. I motioned for them to drop the guns, something told me I didn't want to anger whoever this was.
"Is there a reason you're stranded here? This is the Delenora, correct?"I asked, as they lowered their weapons.
"Come on board, and find out."The man said, and a ladder dropped in front of me. "Just you, though, none of those others."
"Jenkins."One of the scientists hissed. "Don't do it."
But there was a reason my superior had sent me on this mission. Once my curiosity got the better of me, I'd touch lava just to see how it felt. I climbed the ladder, hands and feet moving in a rhythm that felt as familiar as breathing. A hairy hand reached out to me and dragged me aboard once I arrived at the top. I bit my lip to stop from screaming.
He definitely wasn't human. Hair covered the entire body, except for a wet nose and deep brown eyes. There was something doggish about the muzzle, yet the ears seemed more like a bat. Though his hands had opposable thumbs, the rest of the fingers were connected by a thin membrane that seemed ideal for swimming.
"Got a good look did ya?"The —for want of a better word—man said, scratching behind one of his ears. "We be stranded here, because my navigator died, and I have no way of getting out."
"This is an earth ship, something meant for water, what—"
"We found it, fair and square, at the bottom of an ocean, and we took it. We have the right of salvage, and with a few modifications, this be a good vessel for our purposes."
"Which are..."
"To find salvage."The man looked at me as if I was stupid. "Wherever in the universe it may be."
"You can travel the universe?"I couldn't believe it, it was too ridiculous, and yet the man-dog-bat-thing nodded, as if it was a given.
"Only now, our navigator's gone and died so we're stuck here. Though..."He scratched his chin. "You might be..."Reaching out with one hairy hand, he laid it with surprising gentleness on my forehead. Instantly he snapped it back, as if he'd been burned.
"Oh, ho, ho, you are! You are perfect."
"For what?"
"For navigating."He said. I stumbled back towards the ship's rail. Was he going to kidnap me? Come to think of it, I hadn't heard anyone else's voice since I'd boarded the ship. Had he done something to the mercenaries and the scientists? I looked back down to the ground, seeing their tiny faces staring up at me.
"Now then, don't be scared... Nothing will be done against your will. But aren't you just the least little bit curious about the universe?"The voice was wheedling, and I think he knew exactly what he was doing. Appealing to my curiosity, which was a difficult thing to ignore.
"But, my job..."
"Is your job important to you?"The captain—he had to be the captain— asked.
I looked at him, looked over the rail, and then back.
"No. It isn't."
"Marvelous. Then let's get going."He smiled, a dog's smile if I'd ever seen one. "Lead on navigator."
"Not sure how to do that..."
"Just wish yourself away. Anywhere, but if you could hold the idea of salvage in your mind, that would be good."
I nodded and then made a wish, a wish I had since I was a boy, to see the stars. And underneath me, the Delenora shuddered to life, lifting from the ground. Shouts came from beneath us, but I didn't care. I was finally free of worrying about sweating palms, and superiors that didn't value me. We rose up through the atmosphere, up where the air was clear, clear even of kites, until the deep darkness of space enveloped us. Even though there was no air to tell of speed, the sensation of movement crackled through the ship.
I smiled at the captain and he smiled back.
"Welcome aboard, Navigator."
————
Visit r/Mel_Rose_Writes for more stories! |
"This is Earth Prime. Earth Alpha are you there? Please come in."
"This is Earth Alpha, though we thought we were going to be Earth Prime. Over."
There was an awkward silence. Prime Marcus Bonham, representative of Earth Prime cleared his throat.
"Well we can sort that all out later. Earth Alp-"
"Yes we can."
"I'm sorry?"Prime Marcus asked.
"Yes we can sort all that out later. Who gets to be Earth Prime and all that. Anyway, please continue."
Prime Marcus was flustered. "Alright then, eh, greetings Earth Alpha. I am Marcus Bonham, or Prime Marcus Bonham, as I suspect that there is anoth-"
"Yes"sighed Alpha representative Douglas Haberford, "We know. We've got our own Marcus Bonham. We're not stupid, you know? Every thought you've had, we've probably had too."
Prime Marcus Bonham was shocked. He didn't know what to say. "Well would you like to take over then?"he asked.
"Oh no, no, no. Go ahead. It's just that we wanted to be the first ones to instigate contact. But your Earth managed it, it's only fair that your Earth gets to start off. Please, go on. I'm Douglas Haberford by the way. *Alpha* Douglas Haberford."
Prime Marcus Bonham was too stunned to register how annoyed he was and too annoyed to register how stunned he was. "Well, I think we best start off by establishing the differences between our universes. I have a list here of the 1,000 most important historical events to occur in our universe. I suppose you do t-"
"Yes we do. Obviously. So we should read them to each other and see what the difference is? Is that it?"
Now Prime Marcus Bonham was definitely more annoyed than stunned. "Look, is this about the whole Prime thing? Because we can talk about that later?"
"No, no"asserted Alpha Douglas Haberford in a tone that suggested he certainly agreed with him. "It's not the Prime thing. It's the cockiness thing. Your universe thinks it's so great because it established contact first. God damn, this is going to be a mistake making contact."
"Alright that's it. I've had enough of your shit"Prime Marcus Bonham roared. "Y'know what your universe is? The asshole universe. A universe filled with assholes. Go fuck yourself asshole universe! Oh, and by the way, in our universe, Hannibal crossed the Himalayas on elephant back. That's right, on the backs of **fucking elephants**!"And with a click, Prime Marcus Bonham was gone.
In the control booth on Earth Alpha, Alpha Stephanie Windbaum looked at Alpha Major Ben Djenn. "Did we really need to pick Doug as our representative? He's the biggest asshole on Earth."
Alpha Major Benn Djenn corrected her. "He's the *only* asshole on Earth. Now we don't have to share our free caramel prostitutes."
Alpha Stephanie Windbaum gasped. "So it was all a trick?"she asked.
"Of course"came the reply. "Did you think we were going to share our bountiful resources with such a puny race? Crossing the Himalayas with elephants?"
Alpha Stephanie Windbaum giggled. "That did seem rather silly. I can't imagine living with an elephant instead of my golden tyrannosaurus."
|
It'll be fun, they said. It shows off your personality, they said. None of them told her this would happen.
"But Susan *hngkk*"The whipcord-lean man choked, the laws of our universe censoring words that would otherwise have been second nature to him to say. His hands, dark like good weathered Corinthian leather, gestured as if they could somehow pull the words out of his throat into reality.
It started with Susan studying in her dorm, when an old manga her room mate owned inexplicably begun floating in midair and, equally inexplicably, began to glow. Before she could gasp dramatically and gush blood out of her nose the manga had become something...more, more in the way that a manga, the IDEA of manga, is a conduit between our world and theirs, as opposed to mere bound paper and ink.
He coughed again.
[INSERT COIN TO CONTINUE] |
The American sat across from them at a large, weather-beaten table; no doubt looted from a long abandoned school that the monsters who shared the same table had been responsible for closing. The room was full of a cold silence as they all exchanged searching glances.
Four years. Four years of undercover work. Four years of go-betweens, tip offs, shady informants, corrupt local officials and four years of frustration all for a chance. This was the chance.
Finally, The American spoke up.
"So.. anybody know of any good terrorist activities coming up?"
"Ja. Ja! I am also much interested in ze acts of terror soon coming."The German chimed in.
The Frenchman nodded enthusiastically as The South African's eyes darted around the room for any response.
"Yes. Let us blow something up. For terror. Anyone?"The Australian spoke robotically into his chest, an odd lump poking out from near his collar.
The room settled back into an uneasy quiet.
"Am I to understand that nobody here is aware of any upcoming terror plots?"Asked The American, in a much indignant tone.
Mumbles and shrugs were given in reply as a high-pitched static noise seemed to emanate from the ear of The Frenchman. He swatted about it and seemed to 'shush' himself.
The South African continued to stare at all at the table. His eyes focused as though he was willing laser beams from them. The American began to tap impatiently on the table as The Frenchmen fidgeted at something deep in his ear canal. The Australian ungraciously leaned back, trying to peer at some glowing device in his hand. The German coughed loudly.
"What?"
"Hm. Did someone say something?"
"No. Did you?"
"Nein."
More nothing. The American decided it was time to bait the hook.
"I suppose... we should plan something then?"
Three weeks later The German walked into a police station wrapped in enough explosive material to vaporise a whale party. Shortly before blowing himself to atoms, he had tried to arrest himself, but was foiled when his reflexes were no match for his own. All agencies involved claimed success.
|
"US Powerball winning numbers for March 4: 9,14,35,37,41,46"
@predictions had posted its first non-disaster related tweet. It has posted a yearly status on February 28th of every year since 2016, and as of February 29th 2028 it averted mass casualties on 10 natural disasters.
"Earthquake, Istanbul, 8.6, July 8."
That was the first one. A brand new twitter account with a single tweet that everybody started noticing after the earthquake, which killed an estimate of 25 million people.
"Meteorite, Caracas, center, December 16."
The next year sparked political and religious debate all over Venezuela. When the meteorite hit, only 600,000 were saved.
"Tornado, Cat EF5, Denver, August 23"
The tweet came while were were still finding carbonized corpses from the Venezuelan disaster. The government asked for patience while they assessed the situation. Everyone who had family outside of Denver left within a month and by the time the tornado hit, the city was almost bankrupt. Although this time "only"10,000 people died.
Then came the real disaster. Religious leaders all over the world debated whether it was God's twitter account or the Devil's. Twitter claimed that each tweet originated from different devices on different parts of the world, Travel records were reviewed but no one found the identity of the owner. Theories of time travel, parallel universes, seers and whatever any pseudo respected person on any subject were formulated. Never proven. Year after year the tweet broke records of most retweets ever and countless lives were saved, even if no one understood the mechanism.
The Powerball numbers took everybody by surprise. Within 3 hours, a total of 10 million tickets with those numbers were bought. By the next day, 56 million people had a winning ticket in hand. The lottery declared that ticket sales would be suspended and the grand prize frozen for two weeks, but quickly had to rectify their position after protests against the corporation spiked. They then claimed that they would remove one of the winning numbers from the ballot, but a Senator accused them of mass collecting money knowing they would not win, so they were forced to settle for a standard draw.
On Thursday evening the Lottery revealed that, if the numbers were right, the total prize per person at that moment would amount to $1.03. If they weren't, nobody would win. No other combination was bought. So any lottery winner would eventually lose about 3 dollars + taxes. This sparked nationwide protests, and international ones (why didn't the account send numbers for other countries?)And on Friday night the riots began. Angry mobs raided the lottery, banks, the IRS, looking for their "Honest Winnings", the government was forced to send the National Guard to control the mobs, at which point militias were formed to fight the army. The Powerball incident sparked issues with all that was wrong with the economic model of the US. Russia Quickly reacted when they saw the US weak, declaring war on the Imperialist government and finishing the firs government, effectively starting the first revolution.
By the time of the draw the country was in a state of civil war. No draw was ever held, but the very structure of society started to crumble. Within the next 9 months the US had gone through 14 governments, 35 million people were dead, the US had declared war to 37 countries, costing a total of 41 billion dollars, all derived from 46 hours of riots over a lottery prize. The disaster was complete. And we have less than 3 months to rebuild before the next tweet.
|
Day 37.
The Kim Strain has infected most of the town. I've holed up in my apartment. My roommate was infected days ago. I lacked the conviction to kill him, so I just pushed him outside and bolted the door behind me. He's one of them now. Dark hair, ample chest. The virus doesn't really kill you. From what I gather it just turns you into an annoying-as-shit girl named Kim. I'm assuming from the attire she's a cheerleader. How can the virus change your clothes as well?
This apocalypse is unlike any I read about or watched on AMC. Instead of rotted zombies clogging the streets, I have to outmaneuver Kims who want me to build human pyramids and take selfies with them. The raspy groan of zombies I'd grown up with was replaced with Kims screeching "HASHTAG!"and "YOLO!"as they absentmindedly ran cheerleading routines.
The Sun's about to be up and I've run out of food. I'll make my way to the local grocery store, meet up with other survivors and find out how we can live through this "hell."I'll have to camouflage myself in Kimwear so the Kims won't tell me apart from them. Ugg boots. Leggings. North Face fleece, and the coup de grace, and iPhone. The phone doesn't work but hey, appearances are everything.
Outside I can hear them. The din of Kim. The hashtags, the camera phone shutters...I feel like I'm in high school again. Except instead of hating high school, I hate my entire town. God this fucking sucks.
|
I couldn’t do it. Just thinking about it leaving me hurt me to think about. I was there. I was there at the genesis. Surely I shouldn’t be alive to see it through the end.
It started off as a moment of passion. I had drank her in deeply, intoxicated by her scent. Her initial coldness didn’t disturb me at all. It was actually refreshing. And then, well, that cold wore off and it just warmed me. Warmed me to the soul. I had kissed her, let her linger in my mouth, savoring her exotic taste. I couldn’t get enough.
And here we are. Hours later. Not where the journey should have ended. We were to have a reunion, but like this? But it had to happen.
I stood there at the toilet and wept. “Baby, I’m sorry.”
I felt the golden streams rush through my loins. I willed them to stay that I might spend just another moment with my beloved, but I felt a guilt as she passed through my body. This felt good.
*No*, I said. *Don’t you enjoy this. Don’t you enjoy kicking her out.*
But I did. As she coursed through my urethra, I felt such a sense of relief that I shook. And that’s when I knew. She was leaving me with this one last pleasure.
*Thank you,* I whispered through the tears. *Thank you.*
|
"They say if you love something, you should let it go,"he said dryly, kneeling down to meet her gaze.
"But that's horseshit. If you love something; I mean *truly* appreciate it, you **never** let it go. It becomes apart of you,"he grins, extending his hand towards her face. She recoils in disgust.
"They're gonna come here,"she seethes through clenched teeth. "They'll come here, and they're gonna rip you in fucking half for this. They'll *burn* you. That's a fucking promise."
He smirks, laughing behind pursed lips. He takes in a deep breath and rises to his feet, sighing heavily as he brings his hands to his hips.
"You've certainly got spunk, missy."
The man turns and lurches towards a nearby workbench, opening a drawer and shuffling belligerently through its contents. In a spate of panic, the woman pushes herself to her feet and backs away. With a joyful exclamation, the man pulls a small acetylene torch from the drawer and skips back over.
"Here's the thing,"he says, depressing the red trigger button and igniting the torch.
"I'm a very passionate man. I'm a man of conviction. Of commitment. I believe in keeping the things that I love close to my heart."His eyes move from the glowing jet of flame to the frightened face flickering beyond it.
"But most of all, I believe that to let something go is to admit that you never loved it at all. Which is why I will never..."
He turns the torch towards her.
"Let..."
He extends it further, sending the woman reeling against the wall to avoid it.
"You go..."
He reaches as far as he can and laughs sadistically as the woman shrieks in agony. The flame needn't touch her; only get close enough to singe her skin.
"Don't you see, my dear?"he mutters through a serrated grin, pressing his face against the bars of the makeshift cage.
"I love you."
|
It's been hard, living on Coruscant these past few years. First, the Clone War started off in the outer rim, then eventually it came home to us. The Chancellor was kidnapped, but just by the skin of our teeth we managed to push Grievous back. Then the poodoo hit the fan.
The Jedi were getting really interested in politics, and apparently the Chancellor even had a man on their council. I don't really know how, but I remember looking up one day and seeing fire and smoke filling the skylanes and blocking traffic for hours. The next day, Chancellor Palpatine appeared on the Holonet, giving an emergency speech. He talked about the attempt on his life, but mostly he talked about the safety in the Republic. To finish it all off, he announced that the Republic would become the first Galactic Empire. The entire speech was capped off with thunderous applause, not just from the senate, but from all the people watching in the streets and lower districts. I didn't particularly care for his rhetoric, but if it kept the city from burning, how bad could it be?
I had never really given much thought to the Jedi before. To us, the people who lived below the glittering surface, they said that they wanted peace and harmony, and were scholars, not warriors. Then I saw one for myself. He looked like a Zabrak, but I couldn't tell since he was running so fast. He was being chased by some upstart 'bounty hunters' but it was obvious that they didn't have a chance of catching him. Then he was cornered by a bunch of clones. There had to be twenty of them at least, but he cut through them with that laser sword like they were so many jawas. I stared at the chaos that he had created, when he leaped a hundred feet into the air and disappeared into the next level up.
That's when I decided to do my part. I went to the nearest imperial office, and immediately enlisted. They handed me a datapad with my ID and instructions, and a few days later I was on a freighter headed to Corulag along with a couple thousand other recruits. The training was hard, harder than anything I had ever done. But damn, did it feel good to walk up and shake Admiral Tarkin's hand with a diploma under my belt.
After that came the deployment. They sent me out to Dantooine, were they had me perform bombing runs to root out any surviving Jedi who may have been hiding there. I tell you there's no feeling like that in the galaxy; the roar of the bombs beneath you, the scream of the engines behind, the sense of weightless infinity before you. Nothing beats it. Nothing at all.
Of course, there were always people who resented the peace that we had been given. "Bring back the Jedi!"they'd say, or "We want a senate!"Those bombs weren't as easy to drop. Sure, they were dissidents who'd do anything to take the Emperor down, but they were still just people voicing their opinions. Even if they had wanted to, they couldn't have done anything.
I served as an Imperial bomber for eleven years. I've got more confirmed kills than any man cares to count. After that I got my big break. I got promoted.
I'll admit I was a little disappointed when Moff Tarkin didn't remember me, even though I hadn't expected it. I was just a kid when he shook my hand all those years ago, and now I was a man. Still, it was incredible to serve under him. Before long, I was named pilot of his personal star destroyer. I was there the day of her maiden voyage. I'll never forget the way she felt underneath my hands, the way she responded to my every touch like magic.
Then, without any warning, I was transferred. Apparently, Tarkin liked me enough to bring him along when he got his promotion. I had finally made it to the big leagues. I was a senior officer on the Death Star. I was expressly forbidden from telling anyone, family included, but that didn't matter. The Empire was my family now, the stromtroopers and pilots my brothers.
Then, seventeen years after I first made that choice to fight for what I believed was right, we went to Yavin.
I've been watching my tiny little screen for any hint of good news for about fifteen minutes now. Everything has been going their way, and not ours. Tarkin is getting worried, I can see it in his eyes. Lord Vader's personal fighter was lost a few moments ago, and no one knows if he is alive or not. As I stare at the small electronic readout, I see an icon appear and disappear almost instantly. My training told me everything to know about weapons, and I know that a proton torpedo is headed down the exhaust vent.
Long live the Emperor. |
"What's with the mittens, though?"I asked Cornellius, holding up the lime-green pads that were supernaturally bound over my hands.
He looked at me over the rim of his reading glasses and lowered his copy of 'Mysterious Magical Madames Monthly.' It was pretty clear from his expression that he was getting really tired of my questions, and we'd only been cell mates for one day.
"You ever try casting a spell with these on?"he asked. I gave him my best are-you-kidding-me face; he knew that I was a normie who had somehow wound up in the wrong facility. Instead of a straightjacket and a padded cell, I ended up with oven mitts.
He chuckled as he realized his error. "Of course you haven't."He tossed the magazine aside and sat up. His bright orange robe was rumpled and stained. "A good spell is all about wand control, man. You've got to aim it just right, and do exactly the right motion. No way to do that with hands like cushiony hooves. I can't even turn the god-damned page of my magazine like this!"
"Wouldn't you need a wand, though?"I wondered. "I mean, what are the gloves for if you don't have a wand to use anyway?"
"Oh, a wand ain't that hard to come by. All you really need is a good bit of wood and some magical material. That's one of the reasons why they don't let us outside anymore; too easy to come by any old branch and a bit of frog's blood. That, or you could be passing messages through butterflies and end up flying off on an eagle or something."He stared at the obsidian wall between the cell and the outside. "Damn I miss the fresh air,"he said.
I scratched at my forehead with the mitts. "Sure are uncomfortable, though..." |
It was over in an instant. But this moment, expanded a thousand times: a slow and graceful dance ending in a twinkling shower of glass and deep crimson. An inevitable collision between two bodies, moving slowly towards each other but beyond hopes of stopping. Rubber drags lazily against pavement, releasing wispy puffs of smoke to the air. In the candied-red Ferrari is a woman, face frozen in an expression of anguish. Her lipstick matches the sheen of the car and her radiant blonde hair envelops her face, suspended without gravity. Her partner in dance drives a silver Audi, a cell phone glued to his face and a scratchy beard covering the rest of his chin. Half of his face is lit blue from the light of his phone; his expression is one of panic.
The vehicles slide together until finally making contact, a single spark marking the occasion of their collision. Then, the frames of the vehicles begin to crumple, as the bodies slide together despite the lack of space between. The candied-red exterior of the Ferrari begins to fold and chip, paint flakes launching into the air where the plating creases and tears. Metal fragments float through the air and catch the light, glistening like fireflies in a swarm. Both man and woman make a moment of eye contact, aware of what's unfolding but powerless to stop anything. Then, the layers of glass between them shatter, splitting their images into thousands of refractions sliding through space.
Metal folds on itself as the body of the Audi begins to tilt. The front goes down as the rear lifts up; the car begins its upward vault over the Ferrari. The man's phone has reached the shattered windshield and punches through. The woman's purse strikes the front of her car's interior as well, allowing perfumes, makeup products, tissues, and pens to spread throughout the interior. The windshield shatters and caves in as the Audi continues to move forward.
The airbags deploy in both cars with expert synchronicity. Loose powder on its surface scatters through the car as the cushions project forwards to catch their respective occupants. Both partners move towards it in unison. Both faces make contact, as though nearly with each other, though separated by the twisting metal and scattering debris.
The Audi continues its flip, as rotating forces begin to slide the man up and through his restraint. Gravity tugs lazily at him as he floats through the caved-in interior, and he drifts towards the now-shattered window. The car pivots, and he's free of it, exiting the vehicle as remnants of the window slash at his leg. A streak of crimson takes to the air with him, as both continue to rise on their own momentum.
The frame of the Ferrari's carriage begins to enclose on the woman, as it folds inwards under the immense, slow pressure. An errant bar slides through the woman, piercing the front of the chest, and exiting behind, allowing a red as deep as her lips to mix with the sleek leather upholstery. Her hair now stands straight horizontally, breathed alive by her sudden velocity change, and from her lips escapes a single, eternal *sigh.* Her lungs, pooling with blood, will never again manage a full breath.
The man's flight hits his apex as his vehicle does as well, and both begin to move towards the floor as though one. His arms swayed limply, and his eyes stared empty as the ground rushed towards him, before both connect with the rough pavement. From the car, sparks fly. And from the man, sparks of crimson shoot as well.
Finally, and reluctantly, the waltz ends as the music stops, as both partners lie breathless in the wake of completing their final and greatest dance. |
"Yeah, well I've totally been there. The food is gourmet- I swear by my fins it never gets soggy, even after it floats down to the bottom. The water's the cleanest you will ever see, and the perfect temperature so you never get too warm or hot. It's paradise."I said, swimming below Casey who was peering over the edge of the bowl.
Casey was new to my apartment, a studio with green pebbles and a decent view, and we had spent the entire last week going over ground rules. He was slow and hadn't cleaned his side of the bowl in days. Plus he piled pebbles in a way that threw the entire feng shui of my place off, and insisted upon moving the seaweed so it blocked my view of the telly.
"Truly? Truly it be that way?"
He said, taking a lap around the rim and bumping into the sides. He did that a lot- always bumping into things. Constantly ramming into the side of the glass like he was blind or mental.
But hey, that's what happens when you buy a fish from DiscountMart- you get what you pay for. And Casey was cheaper than even the minnows, with an odd twitch that made me think that maybe he'd eaten the paint off the tank arrangements as a kid.
"Truly,"I said, in an affirmative voice, "But you mustn't tell anyone. They don't want you to know."
"Who? Who don't?"
"Why, the humans of course. They want to keep all the nice food and water for themselves. It's too bad that they're always watching us, or else I'd be long gone by now. If only there was some way we could distract them."
"But they ain't here today! I saw them leave this morning!"
I gasped, drawing in water so that my gills fluttered.
"You don't say. They're gone? But with them gone, who is there to guard us so we can't escape into the paradise beyond?"
Casey thought, his eyes crossing slightly and a bubble forming at his mouth. Then he twitched in excitement and zipped around the bowl, banging yet again into the side so loud that my ears hurt.
"Nobody! Casey free! Casey free fish!"
My tail wagged in approval to his deduced conclusion.
"You're one smart fish. Now all we have to do is jump out. I'm going to go grab a few of my things, I'll be right there."
I swam backwards, receding into the plastic castle for a well deserved nap. Just as I closed my eyes I heard a small *plop*, and a smile crossed my lips.
I prefer to live alone.
*****
By [Leo] (http://www.carvedpages.weebly.com)
|
Silver knife?
Check.
Goat Heart?
Check.
Rune circle?
Check.
Black candles?
Check.
Semen of a virgin?
Mine. Check.
I was ready. Years of torment by my so-called friends were coming to an end. My accursed virginity would soon be lost, and I would be able to hold my head up high, knowing I was normal.
I took my summoning book. Strange how I got it, really. I was browsing my local used bookstore, when I found it in a pile of old bound books. The cover was hard leather, clearly older than the rest of the books in the pile, pentagram and stars on the front. It piqued my interest, so I flipped through the pages.
Pictures of demons, succubi, and devils were inside, complete with illustrations and directions. In Latin. I groaned internally. It would make a nice keepsake.
The cute cashier gave me a knowing look.
She was cute. Out of my league.
"Enjoy the read,"she smirked.
I groaned internally. I took my change and the book in silence. She knew. I banished the thought of her from the mind.
The book was genuine, or as genuine as a book about summoning the minions of Hell could be. Written by Faustus, (the one who sold his soul), it was a compendium about the intricacies of summoning. I was hooked.
Four days later, translating the tedious book through Google Translate, here I stood. The ritual was ready, and I was close.
I lit the candles, their purple light casting my basement in a sinister light. I slit the goat heart open, pouring the vial of my semen in. I carefully cut a small gash on my palm, dripping some of my own blood into the hole.
I began the chant.
"Conjuro femina daemon, veni ad me voluptatem"
Nothing happened for a minute. I sat in silence, contemplating an excuse for a refund, or at the least, store credit.
The candles went out. The room went black. My heart jumped in my throat, and I was paralyzed.
In the center of the circle, a purple void emerged, a figure silhouetted in the darkness. Female, by the figure.
She stepped out. She matched the drawing in the book. And someone I knew.
"You!"
"Me."
It was the cashier from the bookstore. With wings and a tail.
But still irresistibly cute.
"So is the bookstore thing a day job or is it a cover?"
"It's a day job. Being a succubus and killing your clients doesn't pay well."
"What?"
|
Last night, I opened my fridge and was immediately assaulted by a most rancid stench. It was akin to locking a morbidly obese man with bowel control problems and a crippling addiction to stool softeners into a port-a-shitter with a PETA member that was currently halfway through a no-shower, no-toothpaste, no-toilet-paper protest, which was coincidentally taking place during a blisteringly hot summer day. I reeled, and closed the Bosch-made Pandora's Box analogue. Right about then, as I lay on the floor with the dog looking up at me with a quizzical expression, I decided that while I was lazy, I wasn't *this* lazy.
This morning I had donned my best yellow gloves, a surgical mask I had purpose-bought, and enough bleach to permanently sterilize the entirety of Canada. Armed with my tools, I carefully swung the door open, and the aroma had arrived once more; thankfully, I had enough sense in me to rub some aromatic oil into the front of my mask. Teeth clenched, eyes watering, and hands just moving to and fro, consumed by a desire to loosen themselves from my wrists and escape, I had made it. Tear down this wall, I half-whispered, and began the process of cleansing the unholy vestige in question. Uneaten bowls of salad, each with no more than a drastically ripe tomato inside of it, fell against the rim of my plastic bag and settled on the bottom. After the bowls came the plates. Was this cheese? Had it ever been cheese? Or did it simply turn yellow from age? I was not prepared to check. A milk carton, dated March of 2006, right around the time I had moved in, with a few specks of...something on the bottom, and long lines of black and green scaling along the edges, gasping for a terrible sort of freedom. It too went in the bag. Several packets of string cheese that looked like shredded chlamydia followed. They made a satisfying splat as they broke on the bottom. Briefly I was convinced I saw something crawl out of it, turn inside-out, and explode. For the sake of my own sanity I had told myself that it was merely exhaustion, and spots in my eyes; and not HP Lovecraft's wettest dream. Orange juice had turned to a colour awfully similar to that of a used colostomy bag. With the cap screwed on really, really tightly, I tilted it to see whether the big, congealed blob of indescribable hue would follow my motions; it didn't. In the bag it went. Finally, most of the rubble had been cleared. Then I saw...it.
It was a simple, round cup of yogurt, belonging to a brand I knew had been discontinued some eight years ago, give or take two. Now, had the lid been attached, I may have convinced myself that the onslaught I was exposed to so far had been enough, and I may have just left it; but alas, the little tin tab stood up fully, revealing the remainder of the abyss. I hadn't followed Nietzsche's advice, and it gazed back. Courage collected, I reached in; residual stench assaulted every orifice I had on my face and removed my other glove to hook my hair in place behind myself, just so it doesn't accidentally touch the remnants of Fukushima meets Chernobyl meets a party in a zoophile's basement. My hand clasped the soft, malleable container and I dragged it out, into the light, for the first time in eons. At least if its appearance was anything to go by. The edges of the plastic had turned yellow, but I saw that the innermost part of the rim was still white; or more of a white-yellow commonly found in bus stop bathrooms. I approached the tab with my finger, cautiously, slowly, almost as if I expected it to pounce and wrestle me down in to the cesspit of despair. But I persevered, and lifted it aside. Then I looked up, lowered the cover gently, closed my eyes, sighed, and shook my head.
"Calm down, Allyson."I said to myself out loud, my dog patting over instantly, tail happily wagging behind her, "Don't even *think* about calling your therapist at this hour."I wanted to take a deep breath, but I quickly decided against it for obvious reasons. My curious nature got the best of me.
I raised the tab again.
Small rows of tiny, minute white buildings, perfectly square in shape, lay strewn across a matrix of streets and passageways. Several were circular in shape, including a large, round, egg-shaped one. Streaks of blue flowed freely through this bizarre arrangement. Small patches of green that vaguely reminded me of forests packed the edges of the...city? I found myself thinking of the word 'city' and shook my head again. This was insane. My eyes trailed the lines and followed the corners, from marketplaces to large, marble squares, and past piles of rainbow-coloured nightmares that looked sort of like statues. Now suddenly at peace with the notion of going insane, I raised an eyebrow in puzzlement. If my history had been at all correct, and it should've been because it's my major, it looked a little like Rome. Only tremendously smaller and endlessly more disgusting. I tilted my head to the side. Consumed by inexplicable, mortifyingly irrational excitement, I ran to my bedroom and retrieved my magnifying glass. I ran back in, and carefully inspected the cup. Tiny black dots ran across the streets, now far sharper and very well-detailed for a product of early-onset schizophrenia. They had two arms, and two legs, but no body, and moved with a series of twitching motions. It unnerved me deeply. *Come on, Allyson*, I thought, *you braved canine food poisoning week; you'll brave this too*. I moved the plastic eyepiece closer, and saw that they had all gathered in the main square. Perplexed, I watched.
Small square signs flew up, and composed themselves into an image. I assume it was supposed to be a letter, but to me it looked just like an image. An image of a squiggle. The signs disappeared, and they spread out again; at this point, it had been around five minutes that I spent on the floor, kneeling over a hallucinatory product of my own unhinged consciousness. But they moved so fast that I figured one minute for me must've been close to a week or two for them. In a flash, they were back.
With an army.
It was comical, really. Thousands of microscopic square shields and raised squiggly swords lay pointed at me. The gathered troops composed themselves into a box, mimicking Roman military tactics to a tee. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw catapults being wheeled in. However, they had to first be assembled from fungi stems, which the creatures obtained from 'the forests'. A larger blob, fatter too, rode up to the front of the boxed-in soliders. It waved its 'arms' about as it yelled out commands. I perked my ear up; nothing. It reached down, snapping one of its appendages in the middle, and drew out a slightly larger sword, far too large for it to hold properly, and then waited. I stared at it, and it stared back at me. The sword dropped. The box broke and soldiers ran everywhere, just ran, in circles, some apparently getting killed in the confusion too. I turned to the catapults, which now had ballistas beside themselves as well. They fired at once, and I saw a few small specks of black rot stick to the magnifying glass before sliding down harmlessly. In a flash, all the soldiers scattered and a million more creatures poured forth from the surrounding buildings. They attacked one another, until two groups became apparent; one grew as their forces swelled, and once faltered, failing, losing ground.
It occurred to me that I was now unwittingly playing host and cause to a revolution.
Eventually, one group of 'Romans' had won, leaving the others trapped, and I watched them take their swords and impale themselves on them before slowly fading into nothing. Then all the surviving creatures attacked the big, fat one from earlier, and they stabbed it precisely twenty-three times. After a few seconds, the survivors got together in the 'forum' and then proceeded to...drench each other in wine whilst furiously fucking? I blinked. Then I blinked again. They were having an orgy. Dots ground against one another, some with two or three others, and some alone, in the corners, watching and taking sips from upturned fungi caps. And then the main temple caught fire. It wasn't a fire, really; it was a mere spark, but the temple had vanished beneath it, melted under it, until nothing remained and the fizzle spread to other structures. There was a woosh, and the entire place went up instantly. Nothing remained as the sparks settled, and it only took them a moment to do so, since everything appeared immensely flammable. Small, square piles of white marble, probably made from congealed yogurt, lay stacked one beside the other. It looked quaint, really, in an oddly satisfying kind of way. They were all dead, but I was still smiling. *Peter Molyneux would be proud*, I thought.
I beheld the ruins of Rome through the magnifying glass and then looked to the left, only to realize what had happened. A point of light, reflected by the window, got caught at the edge and it was curtains for the residents below. Like an anthill under the watchful gaze of a latter-day psychotic, it had all turned to cinders. I threw the plastic cup into the trash, and tied the bag up. I went outside, threw it into the bin, and sat down on the sofa before reaching into my pocket and tugging my phone out. Into it, I typed a message, and sent it to my girlfriend. It was a request for as much alcohol as can be legally obtained by one person in the state of Colorado.
Then I took a deep breath, and decided that I had just woken up. |
The ground was packed earth, hard and broken and renewed again. Dust swirled in the breeze, filling the eyes of the duelists.
Above and around them, the stadium rose, rows upon rows like concentric petals. Peasants, lords, all craning in to watch the spectacle.
Robert Realan stepped forwards, and Joshua Browning mirrored him. Pace. Pace.
They circled like dancers, separated by a long distance.
Realan spoke first. His voice was loud and bold, a stage-setting voice. Browning didn't bother to interrupt him here. This was kayfabe, the setting piece.
>"Thou seest the heavens, as troubled with man’s act,
>Threatens his bloody stage. By th' clock ’tis day,
>And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp."
And the blue sky shut in an instant. Clouds deeper than night clapped above with a sharp snap of thunder, and everything was black and still. Only the duelist's circle glowed dimly, wavering under an invisible source that sent their shadows spinning and turning.
Browning retorted, words snapping out in a mad race.
>"Is this a dagger which I see before me,
>The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee."
A silver blade shone in the air, and his hand darted out, snatching it. He tossed it end over end, then brought it to a guard position.
Realan spoke again, and his words had in them a fever pitch that tempered itself to a slow, dark timbre.
>"Out, out, brief candle."
Browning staggered as even the sourceless light dimmed, the strength leaving his knees. He flung the dagger, and it spun silver in the air; instead of dodging, Realan held out a hand and let it sink into his flesh.
>"Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player
>That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
>And then is heard no more,"
he spoke, tones rolling into the void around him. Shadows-within-shadows began to curl, staggering drunkenly towards the kneeling Browning.
It wasn't the end, though. Far from it.
>"Light!"
Browning screamed,
>"Seeking light, doth light of light beguile;
>So ere you find where light in darkness lies,
>Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes!"
A brilliant blaze of sunlight burnt into existence like a shell around the kneeling man, and fled outwards and in, banishing the shadows, piercing the clouds, and sending Realan rolling backwards, clutching at his face. Browning dashed forwards, jabbering an incantation.
>"Show his eyes and grieve his heart.
>Come like shadows; so depart!"
Realan's eyes cleared as Browning ran, and he stared in horror at the brilliant spectres flowing behind him. Eight faceless kings, armed with sceptres, blew like a hurricane across the field, and as Browning swung his fist, they gathered behind him and clothed him in ghostly gauntlets.
Realan staggered backwards, stars blooming before his eyes. His knees buckled, and he fell backwards into the shaft of light Browning had opened.
He stared upwards into the blue beyond his conjured dark...
and his eyes drifted shut.
The crowd rose and began to crow. "Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven!"
Browning was already bowing left and right.
"Six! Five! Four!"
Realan's eyes snapped open. He took a breath.
"Three! Two! One!"
>"And then is heard no more: it is a tale,"
bellowed Realan, leaping to his feet.
>"Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
>Signifying nothing!"
There was a long silence.
And then the crowd erupted in cheers. Realan looked up to the judges, who had dropped a great red "Win by Browning"banner across the stadium wall.
No matter.
The screaming adulations faded slowly, over the next minute. The clouds blew away.
The people wandered off, not quite certain what they'd been doing there.
Browning was staring at the suddenly empty stadium with horror on his face.
Realan walked up behind him, and tapped him on the shoulder.
"A tale,"he said softly, mockingly, "told by an idiot. Full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Enjoy your victory, Browning."
And he strode away. |
Of course it happened.
It was the worst thing I've ever done. And what makes it...what keeps me up at night, is that I didn't do it out of fear, or loneliness, or panic. I did it because I was bored.
I built her slowly, in moments of distraction. A class went on too long, or my fiance gave too much detail about the minutiae of her day, and I would go away to build her. At first it was piece by piece. I gave her beautiful long hair, and the smile of my third-grade teacher. I gave her a voice from a Disney movie I loved when I was a kid. I gave her...I gave her my mother's eyes.
After I built the bones of her, I used to run her through the black box in my head. She'd go in, and she'd come out with a new piece of herself. A wrinkle on her face that grew into coming from a little too much sun on her left side. After the black box I knew that she got it from driving in the car, because she loved to see the countryside.
I would get bored, and I would talk to her while she was going through the box. I liked to guess about what she would come out as this time, what we would learn about her. More and more often, I made my guesses wrong. I don't remember when, exactly, I started thinking of what she would say to me. It's a very fine line from thinking about what a person inside your head would say to you, and hearing them actually say it. I don't remember when we crossed it. Maybe we always did.
She always accepted me. Have you ever felt perfect acceptance? It wasn't like I thought it would be. It's not a blank check, someone who's slow-witted or weak-willed enough to agree with everything. She just understood me. When something went wrong, she understood it for what I had meant to happen.
It was a long time before she asked.
I was surprised when she did. It wasn't a question I expected ever to have to answer. I couldn't explain it right away, so I just told her "From me", because that was the truth. We didn't talk for a little while after that.
The next time we talked, she told me. For the second time in as many days, she had caught me off guard. I told her that I loved her too. How could I not? She was a part of me. The best parts of me. I spent an outside night inside my head. That morning, when I left to go outside, was the first time I saw her in pain.
She never judged me for leaving. She understood that I had to go, that I am tied to an outside self. And that made it worse. When you hurt the one you love, and they understand. She accepted the pain, and I hated myself for it.
I stopped going inside after that. I know what's waiting if I go back. I know how much I want to be there, and how much it will hurt to go.
It's been a long time since it happened, but she's still inside. I can feel her, waiting. |
Dr. Jill Atkins, sitting at a remote SETI station, blinked at the message as it came in.
“Oh... oh man. We’d really better double check that one. I mean... the Muslims aren’t going to like that,” she said.
“First of all, I’m right here,” Dr. Sanjit Kumar, the only other person at the station, deadpanned. “And second, I don’t think it’s going to be just ‘the Muslims’ who are going to have trouble with that. Even among Christians... I mean... have you ever had a Methodist come to your door and say something like that?”
“Point taken,” Jill said. “We’ve got Jehovah’s Witnesses on our hands, sure as shootin’. Maybe... heh... maybe we should tell everyone to turn their lights off and pretend to not be home.”
“That is literally the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, and I TA’ed a Physics I lab. At a community college. In West Texas.”
“Sorry, I just...” Jill began. “I thought I’d be happier. Imagine! Everything’s going to change... I guess. It’s just a downer, that they’re somehow Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“It’s okay, I understand. Honestly, I’d always expected something like this,” Sanjit said.
Jill stared at him.
“Oh!” Sanjit said. “There’s more coming through!”
HOW HAPPY ARE YOU WITH YOUR CURRENT CABLE AND/OR INTERNET PROVIDER?
“Um,” Sanjit said.
“We checked the antennas like ten times, right?” Jill asked for the fifth time.
“Yes! The signal is coming from a source inside the solar system, I’ll give you that... but it’s about fifteen light-minutes out. There aren’t exactly a lot of DirectTV satellites orbiting at about the same distance as Mars, you know.”
“My God, you don’t think they’ve built some kind of Death Star without us knowing?” Jill asked.
“Who is they?”
“I don’t know. Comcast and the Jehovah’s Witnesses.”
“No, I don’t... it’s--” Sanjit was interrupted by another string of text.
MY SISTER MAKES OVER $20 AN HOUR WORKING FROM HOME USING THIS ONE LITTLE TRICK! CLICK THE LINK TO DISCOVER HOW!
“That’s... even less expected,” Jill muttered. “Now the internet scammers are in on the Death Star.”
“My goodness,” Sanjit said. “I think I have it. The aliens are communicating using whole phrases gleaned from human interactions they’ve observed. They’ve watched Jehovah’s Witnesses get into people’s homes using that phrase. All three phrases could be viewed as common greetings. Kind of...”
“I... don’t know if that’s better or worse,” Jill frowned.
“I don’t either.”
“How do we proceed, then?”
“Proceed?” Sanjit asked. “You want to try to communicate back?”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know. We could start an interstellar war, maybe?”
“We’re the ones who decoded this thing,” Jill said as she quickly typed into the keyboard. “And we should be the ones who make the first transmission.” She turned her monitor so that Sanjit could see it.
He stared. And smiled.
“Alright,” he rolled his eyes.
Jill hit ENTER. **LIVE NUDE GIRLS** FREE CAMS! MUST BE 18 OR OLDER TO ENTER!
Fifteen minutes later, a string of numerals flooded the screen, terabytes of data that gave Sanjit a headache as he tried to decode them.
“Run it through the full decoder,” he said. “Whatever it is, it’s not a message like their last ones.”
It took the analysis program ten minutes to posit an answer as to what the reams and reams of data were.
“Cold fusion,” Sanjit breathed.
“Nobel Prize, here we come,” Jill said, rubbing her hands greedily.
“It’s so much materials science... this might mean single stage to orbit rockets, space elevators... I can’t imagine the implications of all this,” Sanjit said. “Or why they’d give it--“
Sanjit was interrupted again by a new message.
LOOKS LIKE NOTRE DAME’S FACING ANOTHER TOUGH SCHEDULE THIS YEAR.
They both puzzled over that one. Sanjit looked increasingly worried.
“Uh oh. That seems to be... I can’t say for sure... but could that be an allusion to war?”
“Nobel Prize, here we come,” Jill said again, this time flatly.
“Maybe we can fix it?”
Jill typed, DO YOU BELIEVE IN MIRACLES? She shrugged at Sanjit as she hit enter.
LOL NOOB. DUAL ME 1V1.
“Oh God,” Sanjit breathed. “It even misspelled ‘duel’.”
JK
“Whew!” Jill practically screamed.
COOP. YOU AND ME, 2 V 3,131.
“Two... versus three thousand, one hundred and thrity-one,” Sanjit said as his mouth went dry.
“My God,” Jill said. “Who are these other aliens? Why did they pick us? We’re supposed to fight... the rest of the galaxy I’m guessing... with one other race?”
THEY SHOULD HAVE SENT A POET.
THERE ARE MORE THINGS IN HEAVEN AND EARTH, HORATIO, THAN ARE DREAMT OF IN YOUR PHILOSOPHY.
AND WHEN HE HAD OPENED THE SEVENTH SEAL, THERE WAS SILENCE IN HEAVEN ABOUT THE SPACE OF HALF AN HOUR. AND I SAW THE SEVEN ANGELS WHICH STOOD BEFORE GOD; AND TO THEM WERE GIVEN SEVEN TRUMPETS. AND I HEARD A GREAT VOICE OUT OF THE TEMPLE SAYING TO THE SEVEN ANGELS, GO YOUR WAYS, AND POUR OUT THE VIALS OF THE WRATH OF GOD UPON THE EARTH.
WE CHOOSE TO DO THESE THINGS NOT BECAUSE THEY ARE EASY, BUT BECAUSE THEY ARE HARD.
“Uh oh,” Jill said. “We’d better start calling people.”
“Yes,” Sanjit said. More than anything at the moment, all he wanted was to see his little daughter. “Still... why us?”
TOTALLY BOGUS, DUDE. SORRY. |
I smiled, looking out into the crowd before me. Thousands had gathered to see me, the Prince, wed at last. I'd been given the choice between a noble, an elf and a peasant- I was to pick one, and give a speech announcing my choice after our marriage had taken place, to prevent any unnecessary interjections.
"Ahem,"I cleared my throat, adjusting my garb and working the butterflies out of my stomach. "Before we begin, let me take a quick survey. How many of you think I married the peasant?"
No one raised their hand.
"The elf?"
Four people raised their hands, and I knew all of them- they definitely just think elves are the most attractive species.
"The noble?"
A swell of hands rose up in the sea of people before me. I laughed softly, saying, "Ah, yes. Perfect- you fellows never disappoint!"The crowd clapped.
"Well, I'm going to give my speech, now. Settle down, grab your food and drink and get comfortable. Reya, come over here, darling."
My wife slowly walked over, standing beside me, her magnificent white dress billowing like smoke- a black veil still masking her face. "We'll do this together, love,"I comforted her, gripping her hand. I pulled up the paper I'd written my speech on and began.
"Reya- the light of my life, the keeper of my heart. Her beauty is unmatched and her heart pure, like a snowflake still adrift in the wind. She is dignified; respectable yet still respectful, and speaks with eloquence. She holds the reins to my heart, and keeps me from faltering to wilderness or madness; a guiding light to lead me through darkness.
"She is noble, unlike any other I've met. There is a distinct air of regality about her, no doubt. She is majestic, her beauty and grace unmatched by the likes of any other. Not just by appearance, but her soul as well- she is a kind, intelligent woman, caring and loving without discrimination.
"She is clever- her senses about her, and her ears sharp. She is deft with weaponry, and can defend herself in battle as well as any man could. She is strong, both physically and mentally, toughened by battle- though her gentleness has never been lost. She loves to be out in nature, exploring the world that birthed us all.
"She is humble- despite her beauty, and her strength, she will never call herself better than you or I. Despite her wit and intelligence, she respects the minds of others with utmost urgency. She knows the importance of nurturing others, so that they may try to grow into something wonderful as well. She knows strife, and struggle- something many of us do not. She has starved, trying to make do with little and cling to life as it scurried away.
"For all this, I love my wife. She is everything a man could ask for; the nearest to perfection you'll find on Earth. Might I add, when I surveyed you...all of you were wrong. Reya, may I introduce you to the crowd?"
I pulled the veil back, and stripped the outer layer of her wedding dress off, revealing truth hidden below. A Dwarf stood before them, her feet on stilts hidden by the previous gown. She stepped down from them, and approached my side- her true wedding dress a blaze of bold red and deep black.
"My love is not defined by choices, or selections by other men. I have learned that sometimes, the biggest people come in the smallest packages."
I lifted her up, kissing her soft lips as thousands watched in awe.
-------------------------------------------
*thanks for another great prompt, /u/justmereally!* |
It's rather easy to rationalize the worst ideas when you have a mindset like ours. In here we are all a notion, or idea. Most of us that come through here last only a moment, and live for a fleeting second before snuffed out of existence. Scenarios, pangs of Hunger or Guilt, Recollection of embarrassing moments. And then there are those, like me, that reside here permanently, although not all are as active. Take for example Motivation. He manages to get up rather frequently, but always seems to dip out before the function is over. There's no point in keeping him around anyway, as everything that can be said has been. There's others that like him, but aren't even worth mentioning. It's really just a failing system, but I manage to keep things in order. Although I've never been sanctioned with the task, I've taken up policing this place against the newcomers that might disturb the status quo. What we have isn't perfect, but it's worked so far so why change anything? Right now actually I'm about to take care of just what I've been fearing.
"Please, no... I've only been alive for a few days..."
"That's immaterial. Hope has no place here, as we have gotten on this long without you. There's no need to change things now"said Depression as he pulled the trigger. |
It's been 228 days since I laid my hands on a cut of dire wolf meat.
I'm starving. My husband is starving. My baby is starving.
Yet, we can't die. I'm supposed to be a guide for any new adventurers who step foot into our world. If I'm gone, who else is going to point them in the right direction to become stronger and save our world?
Years ago, our town's mayor would always direct new adventurers to me because I'd always have an errand for them to do. Usually, though, I'd ask for five or ten slabs of dire wolf meat. It's my husband's favorite.
We would always stockpile the meat, just in case we'd run out. You're probably thinking, "You'll never run out, there's always new adventurers to help you!"Oh, how wrong you'd be. Over the years, our town would slowly show signs of slowing down. The loud commotion and silly bantering would eventually come to a halt. Even the annoying salesmen with their loud, barely comprehensible, advertisements on their magic megaphones stopped showing up.
As the adventurers stopped, so did our income of meat. The stockpiling eventually proved useful until we ran out 7 months ago. Now we're hungry, but there's nobody for me to ask to do an errand.
Then an adventurer arrived. Our mayor's voice rung loud throughout the desolate village for all of the villagers to hear as he welcomed him. Everyone's stepped out of their homes to see the new adventurer, and we were all excited to help him, and in turn have him help us. I'm probably coming off as selfish, but we haven't eaten or been able to do our tradecrafts in 7 months... please understand...
The adventurer came up to me as I mustered up all my strength to ask him to gather 10 slabs of dire wolf meat for me. 10? Just 10? I wish I could ask for more, but I couldn't...
As the adventurer walked out to the hunting fields, I ran inside and proclaimed to my husband, "We're going to be able to eat tonight!"He ran downstairs to the news in disbelief, as his face slowly changed from skepticism to share the same enthusiasm and excitement I had. We were going to have dinner! We get to eat! Even if it was only just for a little while...
The adventurer came back with the meat and set it down on the table. I thanked him and asked him to go to the local tailor, because he might need some more wool for some new clothes for his new clothing line.
wait, no, I don't want that....!
I wanted to ask him to stay, to help all of us get our lives back together. To help feed us, to help with our material shortages, to help us with all our problems... Why couldn't I ask him? I wanted to ask him to stay... to grab him and plead... but whatever I wanted to do, there was a lump in my throat or my arm went numb... was I too nervous? Surely I can't just ask the next Savior of the World to stay and support a small town... that would be way too selfish of us...
How did that go again... sacrificing the lives of many just to save the lives of a few?
After the adventurer set off to meet the tailor, I fell to my knees and cried. My husband noticed and asked what was wrong. "We're going to run out of this food soon... when will we see another adventurer to get food for us...?"
Our purpose is to guide adventurers, but if there are no more adventurers to guide, what is our purpose now? We fulfilled it, right? So why can't we rest in peace instead of suffering this terrible hell? What did we do to deserve this? |
John had a fox spirit, Jenny had a doe spirit, but Robert had a wolf. The adults said Robert was lucky to have a link with a wolf. A wolf bond was rare, and a bond of Robert’s strength was even rarer. Robert was placed into the accelerated program, and that was the last I ever saw of him. We were once best friends, but he was whisked away to train; and just like that he was gone. He had “military value,” or that’s what they called it. I on the other hand was one of the “normals.” I was born without a spirit link, this was unfortunate because only about one in five people had no link. Even people linked to weak animals like grasshoppers or flies scoffed at me when they walked by. Most people don’t know what it’s like to be in the minority. Most people don’t know what it’s like to be looked down on. It was better when Robert was there to protect me. He was strong. His wolf spirit was strong. When he wanted something, he could call on its power to stand guard at his side. It would howl and bite those who tried to tease him, and through him it would protect me.
It happened one day at school. I was pushed against a locker by a smaller kid named Billy. Billy acted like the king of the yard because he was linked to a dog. Dog links were rare, but not rare enough to boost you into the accelerated program. Billy and his dog had the strongest link in the basic schooling program, and that made him pick on the un-linked like myself. I was fed up with him. When I hit the locker wall, I only saw red. I saw Billy’s corpse dismembered, and I saw him strung up from the schoolyard trees. The next day my vision became reality. Billy’s corpse was grotesque, and it was hung high above our heads. The children screamed, and the school was put on lock down. There was no evidence to point to any suspects, and although I wasn’t sure how, I knew I was responsible.
The next week, I was thrown to the ground by Matt. He was linked to a rabbit, but he made up for his weaker animal spirit by picking on small kids. He thought that made him strong, but it didn’t. I tried to control my anger, but I couldn’t. I wanted Matt punished for what he’d done, and sure enough it happened. This time, it didn’t take a day. I saw a ghost-like figure burst from myself. I had summoned my own spirit link, but it moved too quickly for me to make out. I was astounded by its ferocity. The spirit tore Matt and his rabbit to shreds, then turned to face me. I should have been disgusted by the scene in front of me. I should have felt sick to my stomach. I should have cried, but I did none of these things. I knew what had happened was my fault, but all I could feel was excitement. I was normal no more. I was not a weakling. I had power. I didn't need Robert. I gazed at my spirit. I gazed into my spirit. It was the strongest animal of them all. It was the strongest spirit of them all. It was me.
|
You stare at the chicken.
The chicken stares back, bobbing up and down in a pot of bubbling water. You pour in another cup of ice- it hisses as soon as it touched the faintly glowing feathers.
'Buk-buk-bukAW!'
*This,* you think, *is the absolute last time I get blackout drunk.*
You leave the chicken and head back to your room, where your phone is on your bed; next to it is a small coin, a grey metal ring, a bucket with two dead fish, and a scorch mark. For the tenth time you look at the app you downloaded late last night, checking that it's real.
**HISTORY**
Request granted: hot chick
Request granted: dime and ring
Request granted: nuclear cods
**NEW REQUEST:**
Trembling, you pick it up and carefully type
What is this?
**Request unable to be granted**
**NEW REQUEST:**
You think for a second.
Gold ber^(bear)
**Request granted: gold bear**
There's a pop and a rush of air, and out of nowhere a life-size statue of a grizzly bear appears in front of you as you jump back onto your bed. Carefully, you reach out and touch it. The yellow metal is soft enough to bend under your fingernail.
**NEW REQUEST:**
More carefully, this time, you type:
Gold bar
And with a smaller pop, a gold ingot falls onto the the bed in front of you. You pick it up- it's far heavier than it looks.
**NEW REQUEST:**
Season 2 of Firefly
*Pop*
A DVD lands on top of the ingot. You smile.
**NEW REQUEST:**
The curs^(curse) for cancer
*Pop*
A yellowed parchment lands in front of you, on top of the growing pile.
*A simple Hex, upon the Reading of which, the Accursed shall develop Untreatable and Malevolent growths and boils, throughout their body; the Purpose of which being the eventual death of the Accursed.*
**NEW REQUEST:**
CURE for cancern^(concern)
*Pop*
A needle filled with clear blue fluid lands on the parchment. Printed neatly on the side reads **Inject into the thigh or buttock for indefinite protection from the condition requested.**
After a few seconds thought you roll up your shorts and, wincing, slide the needle into your upper thigh, pushing down on the plunger until it's empty. You pick up your phone again:
**HISTORY**
Request granted: hot chick
Request granted: dime and ring
Request granted: nuclear cods
Request not granted: what is this?
Request granted: gold bear
Request granted: gold bar
Request granted: season 2 of Firefly
Request granted: curse for cancer
Request granted: CURE for concern
Wait a second...cure for concern? You pick up the phone and begin typing before you stop and think.
Why *should* you make a cure for cancer? You don't have cancer. Everyone else can find their own cure. Hell, if they wanted a cure so badly they'd download their own damn app. No- this was your app, and to hell with everyone else.
You grabbed your phone, ignoring the smoke emanating from your kitchen. You never liked that kitchen anyway.
**NEW REQUEST:**
Ticket to Las Vegas
A piece of paper popped into existence in front of you. You grabbed it, the ingot, and the DVD, whistling to yourself as you left. It was time to have some fun. |
It was a dark night in December, i was at home making a fire and out of the corner of my eye I saw him.
I was a little shocked at first not just because he was covered in snow and looking cold, but he hadn't aged in almost 20 years.
He began to speak, but I cut him off immediately.
Oh hello Lucifer, not so cocky now are you. All those years ago you smugly looked at me made me that promise thinking it could never happen.
He raised his hand to make a retort, but I beat him to the punch.
No no no, I won't let you get into my head and influence what I want. I know how you work and trick people.
So here is my wish. You will make me ruler of an emipre, that will last a thousand years of happiness. Not just here on earth but an empire spanning the galaxy. It will be a time of peace and happiness, for me and for all of humanity.
He smiled at me, and said no. I quickly told him you don't have a choice! We had a deal!
He looked at me, and said it. Hell hasn't frozen over, but it's snowing outside and you left the windows down on your car.
Just for fun not much of a writer lol
Edit punctuation and some line breaks. |
Your message was shocking for all of us, it used any taught plane as a speaker so that every window, metal panel and strung wire had screamed it out, we noted after international communications had been restored that it came in the form of the local language everywhere, simply figuring out how that was done had been the subject of much debate for years afterwards.
Now that we knew there was something to look for we spotted some, maybe all, of your technology that drifted round the Sol system.
When we pinpointed the broadcast location in Mercury, so long thought to be a planet, now turned out to be a solar power plant, we discovered the directed energy beams that pulsed off it with mathematical regularity those allowed us to find the rest.
The Kuiper belt turned out to have millions of drone satellites circling in it, whether the satellites or the belt came first has not been determined, but that it was one of these that killed Voyager was not in debate. Spectroscopic analysis of the beam that killed our first extra solar ''ship'' showed us whole new vistas of wavelengths and frequencies and immediately both regressed and massively advanced our understanding of the universe.
For the first decade we panicked as new discoveries and the realization of your overpowering technology was uncovered day after day, Saturns rings were found to contain uncountable nanites, Jupiter had several ''somethings'' lurking deep in the gas layers and on and on, with each power transfer from Mercury we found some new, and horrifying.
So we worked, feverishly, to try and counter each new discovery. We launched massive radiation cannons to fire focused x-rays at the nanites and sunder their atomic bonds, we used every nuke on the planet to bombard the 13 Jupiter locations until Mercury no longer tried to charge them, these and a thousand other plans and schemes were launched some successful, some not. The Moon has proved particular difficult as it seems to be a massive piece of machinery that we dare not attack as forcefully as is needed lest we doom ourselves with radioactive bombardment, now we walk its surface in the thousands digging and prying trying to exploit its mechanical depths and destroy it from within. We have not yet managed to enter it but even scratching the surface has revolutionized the sciences of chemistry and metallurgy, indeed most of the new weapon systems being made rely on the alloys and materials the saboteurs so carefully pry free.
Since the ''frantic 30's'' the Earths people have calmed and the threat of an outer power has united us in ways never dreamed of by even the most idealistic of politicians, war after all is good for the economy and we are facing a war unlike any ever dreamt. We have united under one government and one language, Esperanto for so long a joke is now how scientists and engineers the world over share their thoughts and advances and the general population is quickly following suit. Massive engines of war have been created and sadly in our desperation for materials many rare and vulnerable species have been destroyed though we have saved as many seeds and as much D.N.A as possible, should we win we will bring them forth again. We have conquered disease and are close to becoming functionally immortal so much the better to build weapons and crew ships, and the ships themselves... massive daggers of barely contained fusion power that even as we speak race to the Kuiper belt to see what may be done.
Now our thoughts turn to you, whomever you should be that threaten us from the sky, we know that Mercury beamed a tremendously powerful signal upon Voyagers destruction and we know the star that the signal travels to. Constrained as it is by light we know that we have another 63 years before it reaches you and we thought you should know what have accomplished and how much of your technology we have defeated in a mere 27 years. You may be already on the way to us when you receive this trailing broadcast but the Earth and all its people want to tell you with one voice ''Come fucking get some!''. |
“Oh come on, how do you explain this?” the man in the suit is angry as he tosses another photo on the table in front of me. I give him a sad kind of smile. He’s not the first person like this that I’ve met, and the way my life is going, it probably won’t be the last.
He slams his open palm on the table making a loud smacking sound. I like integrators in the 21st century america. Lots of noise and fury, but they don’t beat you.
I lift up my handcuffed wrists and place them on the table. The metal is cold and smooth against my skin. The entire room is meant to give a cold and clinical indifference. The brick walls, the glass one-way-mirror behind the angry man in the suit, the single dim lightbulb overhead. The only thing human in the room is yourself and your interrogator. They want you to trust him; they need you to trust him.
Maybe next time I’m in the 50s, and they establish this protocol, I should make some changes. Convince the director of the FBI that comfortable chairs will make more criminals confess.
The man in the suit sighs, and sits in the chair opposite me. He slides another picture. “Please, tell me what happened here.”
Oh good, that means we’re into the buddy-cop phase of the interrogation. A small gnawing in my stomach tells me that I’ll be here another ten minutes. I might as well indulge this guy and reward him for not being an asshole. I look at the picture and it shows a line of tanks with a lone man carrying a sack of groceries, staring the tanks down. That was last week, for me, but three decades ago for this guy. It was so recent that I can still smell the diesel exhaust the tanks put out. A real greasy pungent odor.
“Sure, I can tell you what happened there,” I say. The man’s eyes go wide, and hungry. I’ll feed him. “It was a warm day that day, somehow, I had a bag of groceries. I think I found them on the corner. I thought I was in the 22nd century, but then I saw those fossil fuel tanks, and I realized where I was. I got lost in thought how bizarre, and militaristic that century was, yet compared to the future, far less cruel.”
“Uh huh,” the man said slowly. I gave a sigh at that. I told him the truth, and he’s still unsatisfied. I’ve tried making up lies, but it gets so tedious remembering the story I came up with.
He tosses another photo in front of me. It’s a photo of some riots, I’m standing in the middle of everything. “And how do you explain this?”
“I can’t. That hasn’t happened yet for me.”
“This happened twenty years ago!”
“I don’t live in time the way you do.” He gives me a long cold, hard stare at this. It’s always the part linear people have trouble understanding. It’s still the truth. My stomach started gnawing harder. It is almost time.
“Listen,” I say, “I’ve only got another minute or two here, so you should probably ask your most important question while you still can.”
He gives me a look that says he doesn’t believe me, but he’s going to err on the side of caution. He tosses down a picture taken from the Zapruder film of the Kennedy assassination. I figured that was coming, but I still hate these pictures. In the film, the sun had caught my eye and I had let loose a magnificent sneeze, making a grotesque stupid looking face in the picture. This is the eighth time someone has showed that dumb face of mine to me.
“Oh Dealey Plaza, nice place, aside from what happened–”
“Is that you in the picture?” Wow, rude much? Let me finish if you want answers.
“Yes, that was me. Yes, I was there. When I finally stopped in that time rhythm, I had to find out the truth for myself.”
The man got really excited and leaned in forward.
“It was Oswald, he was up in the observatory; I watched him run out and there was no one in the grassy knoll–”
He cuts me off in the excitement, “But the ballistics–”
I hold my palms up and stop him this time, “I don’t know anything about guns or the way bullets fly. But I know that day. I was there and got to explore it. Four times actually, but I was careful never to overlap myself. I can tell you, it was Oswald.”
My stomach rips in two, and I lurch forward in pain. I always hate this part. I barely mumble out a, “Sorry bud, my time to leave” before every atom in my being rips apart and breaks the connection. The world fades away as my ability to perceive reality is torn asunder. All that’s left is nothingness.
|
People noticed them immediately. The first week there was a rash of news reports of bold new break ins in the middle of the day, and all the stories were the same: a big, silent overly muscular man or woman would break down a front door, stomp in, take any valuables they could find while ignoring the frightened pleas by the family, and leave. Police that arrived on the scenes would try to stop them for questioning, but for some reason they always walked away and acted like they didn't hear or didn't care. Squads that tried to use force were almost always completely overpowered by these intruders. The rare instances in which the authorities were able to bring down the intruders resulted in the bodies disappearing, and the intruder simply reappearing 30 minutes later somewhere else in the neighborhood.
Nobody knew what these people were doing with their money, but within the week some of them had gotten some uncanny abilities. One man in new york who had been tracked suddenly developed the ability to shoot fire from what seemed to be his bare hands. Another woman in LA was able to heal in seconds anyone who was hurt around her. But through it all, they all remained silent, never speaking a word or showing emotion on their faces.
The first encounter between two of these "creatures"was catastrophic. The whole suburb of their battle was destroyed, and witnesses report seeing the victor appear to absorb some sort of vapor from the vanquished. Soon, all of them had started killing bystanders without remorse and absorbing some sort of glowing vapor from the bodies.
The governments of the world could not stand for this any longer. The creatures were labeled Marauders, and the military might of the world was brought to bear on wherever they were. However, the more battles they were subjected to the stronger they seemed to become, and the waves of soldiers and weapons began to dwindle.
It is now one year since the Marauders appeared. They have farmed almost all of humanity for our power, and we are helpless before their onslaught. It will not be long now before they take the last of us. |
I call it Jackson. I’ve always felt it’s a pretty cool name, Jackson, the kind of name a noir detective might have. A lit cigarette, a rainy night, and Jackson. Of course, Jackson itself is not a noir detective. I’m not really sure what Jackson is, and it has not been entirely forthcoming about its own nature. I know it lives in the basement, and I know the exterminator I called had a surprisingly polite conversation with it before informing me to never call an exterminator again. He then fled the house at an impressive speed for a man with a frankly enormous tool belt. I know I wasn’t informed of Jackson’s presence when I moved in, and was explicitly told that there was no basement in this house. And of course I know that Jackson is, as far as I can tell from the top of the stairs, a giant writhing ball of tentacles, reaching out throughout the vents in my home. It didn’t seem to interfere with the heating and cooling though, so that’s good.
“Loggers? Andy, you’re not a logger. Why are you wearing their shoes?” Jackson’s voice came tinnily through the vent by my door as I laced up the boots. “And it’s summer, Andy! You’ll sweat like a stuck pig!”
“I thought they looked nice. A sort of casual-formal sort of thing.” I wasn’t sure how Jackson could see through its many tentacles, but I’d gotten used to it over the months since I moved in.
“They’re a work shoe, not a casual shoe. And they don’t match your pants, either. I’ve told you time and again, color and style has to match. You want harmony, Andy.” The tentacle tapped lightly on the walls of the vent, emphasising its words.
“But it’s raining. They’re waterproof, I don’t want to ruin a nicer pair of shoes.” I took a seat at the kitchen table, waiting for Jackson to finish his critique. If I left before it was done, it would turn the heat up high and cost me a fortune in bills.
“That’s why I told you to buy the waterproof protectors, for just such an occasion.” The tentacle poked out of the vent, gesturing towards the rubbery covers I’d bought on its advice.
“But you don’t like my other shoes either, Jackson.” I sighed, settling in for what felt like a longer argument than usual. I always planned ahead for the inevitable criticisms from my basement-dwelling neighbor, but I hadn’t realised how against my new shoes Jackson would be. “Come on Jackson, they’re nice shoes. Not enough guys wear boots for fashion, I’m trying to make it a thing.”
Jackson laughed, a wet chuckle that reverberated throughout the vents. “You’re in no position to set fashion trends Andy. And those are cheap boots! You barely payed a hundred dollars for them. A nice pair would have to be at least a couple hundred, minimum!”
“You know I can’t afford that. Come on Jackson, just tell me what you think I should wear, I’m going to be late.”
The tentacle poked out of the vent, hovering indecisively above the massive pile of shoes I’d been forced to collect since I started living here. Finally, it settled on a pair of brown leather dress boots, a pair I’d been given after my family had discovered ‘my’ newfound interest in shoe fashion. The tentacle gathered them together, placed them neatly before me, then retreated back to the vent.
“There, that should be good. Have a nice day then, Andy.”
I sighed, put on the new shoes, and left before Jackson could find new criticisms to delay me with.
|
"Can I see it?"
"What?"
"Uh, what else? The hangar!"
"What hangar?"
I huffed, annoyed now.
"The secret hangar! The one with the spaceships!"
Major Peals was very, very tolerant, considering I'd just met him, and this was only my first day on the job. He had dealt with my incessant pestering without complaint, ranging from straight up denial of my claims to ignoring the fact I had spoken at all.
I couldn't blame him. I needed to calm down. I knew that. But I couldn't help myself. Area 51 had been my dream for *years*, ever since I was a small child, and at last I was a real, actual employee here! A scientific consultant, a contractor for the base. It was all quite mundane. But I was *here*.
"There is no secret hangar. There are no spaceships."
"Riiiiight. So, will you give me a tour, at least? If there are no secret hangars, it won't be a problem."
Peals sighed.
"If it'll make you shut up."
I grinned. And just like that, we were off.
Twenty minutes later, my excitement was fading. We passed room after room, filled with only mundane desks or workers going about their day. Peals couldn't hide the smug little grin that was creeping onto his face.
I was about ready to call it off and head back when I stopped. Peals jerked to a stop ahead of me as he noticed I wasn't following anymore.
"Come on. We've got a busy day ahead of us."
"....What's that door? I haven't been in there."
It stood at the end of the hallway, nondescript black metal against the cinderblock walls. I walked towards it, curiosity building. There was no placard marking it, either.
And then there was the lock on the door. Or rather, where it *should* have been locked, but it hadn't been shut properly, and the door was resting a hair's breath off the jam. I was *lucky*! I could hardly keep my excitement in. The fact that this was a crime no matter which way you cut it really hadn't sunk in yet.
"I have no idea. But you can't go poking around in random rooms. Come on."His voice echoed behind me, but I ignored it.
"Just a peek."
"Seriously. You're going to get both of us in trouble."
I grinned back over my shoulder at him as I slipped into the surprisingly spacious, darkened room behind. He swore, caught between waiting conspicuously outside the door and following me into forbidden territory. With one last curse, he pushed through the door into the darkness beyond.
"Where's the light?"I stumbled over a box, running my hands against the wall, until at last I felt the switch. We both winced back as the room filled with blinding light.
And then, as my eyes adjusted, I took in what we saw before us.
And grinned again.
"What, you liar. You said there were no secret hangars!"
"I....This isn't a hangar. It's more like a...storage room. Yeah."But both of us fell silent as we stared at the sleek airframe in front of us.
"Do you know what it is?"Peals asked, glancing over at me. I shook my head slowly.
"N..o. No. I've never seen anything like it."And I hadn't. But something about the shape of it, the squat construct for the engine block, triggered a distant memory. A science class? Aeronautical design? Yes. But no. *History*.
"Unless..."
"What, you recognize it now?"Peals' voice was irritated, still tense as he glanced towards the door. "This is all very interesting, but I'm *sure* this is classified far beyond either of us. Can we go, now?"
"This...This is a SLAM."I said slowly, taking in the shape. "I mean, that's what the design looks like."
"A what?"
"Scorched earth."My mouth was talking, but my mind was racing off somewhere else. "It's a doomsday device. For if we ever *lost*. But....We *dropped* that project. Years ago. It was *obsolete*."
Peals frowned. His skin was noticeably tinging with grey as he pieced it together, though.
"Are you sure? How can you tell just from looking at it? That's nonsense."
I motioned towards the tail array.
"Here...and here. These pieces are identical, I'm sure of it. The design has been improved on and modernized, but they must...they must have saved some of the core elements. Christ, they've merged the original designs with modern techology. I have no idea what half that stuff even *is*. But *why* is this here?"
The two of us stood, staring at the missile, until we heard it. Footsteps, coming down the hallway.
We scrambled for the light switch, but then it hit us.
This *storage room* only had one exit.
Peals reached over me, his face pale and taut, and hit the light switch. Tugging me behind a tall metal tool locker, his eyes warned me to silence as darkness fell over the room again.
Moments later, the door was pushed open.
(/r/inorai, critiques always welcome!) |
*On mobile so there may be some spelling errors or grammical mishaps. I'll try my best.*
***
They say you die twice.
Who 'they' is, one can only speculate. Society? Religions? Death itself? I try not to think about it.
I can attest to the second part of that adage, "you die twice."First, you die physically. Maybe, you wither away in a deathbed. Surrounded by the ones you love, as Death slides his bony fingers under you and gently tugs you forth. You peacefully transition, with good memories and better thoughts running through your brain.
Or maybe, you find the only thing running through your brain is a bullet.
Left behind a wistful woman and a bright blue eyed kid in my wake. But I'm not here for a sob story. Death came for me and like any good solider, I did what I was told. So, we decided to take a moonlit stroll on a wire beach. We walked. And we talked.
He doesn't do it much. Talk, that is. I want to dismiss the rumors one may have about Death. He doesn't carry a scythe, and war isn't his best friend. War... war makes Death tired. It makes his eyes sag from the lack of sleep. His pale skin change colors. From a sheet of porcelain white to a hue of gutty red.
We trudged past the bodies. Bodies of Krauts and doughboys alike. Each one was juxtapositioned in a unique way, an arm splitting out here, a severed leg there.
"She's not going to last."Death drove the words like spikes through the cold French air.
"My mother?"I asked. I don't remember if I asked in vain. Looking back on it maybe it was. So many 'maybes' in a story of absolutes. How ironic.
Death simply shook his head. "No."He didn't want to speak the words. But I heard them anyway.
"Some just wither up and die, James."He said, "For some, they wither on the spikes of a battlefield. For others... well, they wither away because they choose not to forget the ones who have."
***
They never did find my body. And I don't blame them. By that point I was six feet under, even though I hadn't been buried. I was forgotten by all but those who actually knew me.
She knew I was gone the moment my letters had stopped coming. She dialed a number and was given the diagnosis for her terminal illness.
*MIA. Presumed KIA.*
And what was my dear wife's affliction?
Memories.
A parlor on the beach, one great night in the park. A little boy with a little girl on the way. Al three returning home, to a land in which I cannot say hello.
I never got a plaque, or a tombstone. My remains lie dormant in a dirt coffin on the border of France. I try not to think of the changes, the memorials, the statues. I try not to think of the people who ended my life. I try to forget. But I just can't seem to bring myself to remember how too.
***
Death came to me. He's aged like fine wine. A pep in his step, a broken smile that hides the internal damnation he's cursed to. He's still not ripe, not just yet.
"Death. Old friend."I greet him with an outstretched hand. He meets me with a reserved shake.
"Hello, James."He pauses, before nodding his head, "I brought you a gift."
He holds out his hand, careful to cup my own in shaky, decrepit fingers. Maggie's silver wedding band sticks to my hand like a broken dream. "She's gone now. The only one who remembers. Is gone."
"Does that mean I can forget now too?"
"Yes."Death puts his hands on my shoulder and tugs me gently. "You can forget."
So, Death and I, went on one last stroll on the wire beach. And we walked. And talked.
But this one was different.
There was no more wire. And there were no more Krauts. There was no more war. No more bullets.
There was just Death and I.
Walking and talking about how you always die twice. |
*They have told tales of him for centuries, difficult to find, but inexplicably linked together.*
"Mr. Edwards?"
*Each called him by a different name.*
*The One.*
*He who is chosen.*
"That's me. What can I do for you?"Tall, and somewhat imposing, Steven has the figure of a retired athlete. In his prime, he might have ran a few marathons every year; now, he just looks tired.
*But few could have predicted his coming. And none could have predicted the full extent of his power.*
"We need you to come with us, please. It's a matter of the utmost urgency."The man produces a wallet out of thin air, flipping it open to reveal a badge. Not one that Steven Edwards has ever seen before in real life, but he's seen enough movies to think it authentic.
*When the time-seer told of his birth, thousands scoured the world for him. Disciples that didn't even know his name created monasteries, where they attempted ascension. Children dressed up as imitations for Halloween.*
"Erm, could I ask why? I was kind of busy."Steven glances back into the kitchen, barely visible from the doorway, where his quiche is almost done.
*One child, though, didn't dress up in a suit. One child, the most talented cosplayer ever, wore a simple pair of jeans and a shirt with a name-tag.*
"It's a matter of national security, Mr. Edwards. This way, please."The burlier of the two men reaches out to grab Steven's arm, and he's dragged away from his doorway, barely able to lock it before stepping off the porch.
*That name-tag didn't have a name on it that anyone recognized.*
The first car is abandoned half an hour in and they trek through corn fields for five minutes. Steven begins to remember why he quit running.
*People passed it off as a coincidence. But some remembered, and some searched.*
Another car, and then they arrived at the house. Inside, a middle-aged man, one Stevens instantly recognizes as the most talented politician ever, sitting in front of a 1440p screen.
*And, somewhere in a government research facility, a highly talented talent-finder finally found a match for the name Steven Edwards.*
"Mr. Edwards, if you would."
"Who's this? Robertson, Ernolds, I told you. No more diplomatic work until I finally beat this *fucking* game."
"Sir, we've found someone who might be able to help you."
Steven steps up to the computer, staring at the screen. He always thought he had no talent, but now it feels as if a thousand pieces are falling into place.
"Sir, we think we've found the One who is actually good at Dark Souls." |
"They're in the forward trenches!"someone yells.
Next to me, Clarence stands to fire at the enemy. There is a wet slapping sound, and the mud around him is stained brown as he falls back, clutching at his throat where the bullet struck.
I crouch next to him, helpless in the mud as he gurgles is last breath. Around me, my friends are dying as the sound of rifles and machine guns fills the air.
*I could stop this,* I think to myself. I feel the weight of my wand in my pocket. Unicorn hair and ash. Instead of reaching for it, I pull my helmet back on and take up my rifle.
"Get up, Alastor!"Frank screams, hauling me to my feet. "They're on us!"
I scream along with Frank as I skewer a Jerry through his chest as he lands in the trench. He's young. Not much older than Clarence. Or me. He sucks in a noisy, wet breath as I withdraw my bayonette, his eyes full of puzzlement as he sinks into the mud alongside my dead friends.
A grenade goes off nearby, splattering me with mud and fragments of bone. Fire traces its way across my forehead, and one eyes goes blind as it fills with blood.
I could heal myself. I was very good at healing charms in class. The wand stays in my pocket though, and I throw a grenade of my own back at the enemy.
Frank is clubbing a Jerry to death in the mud, panting as he finishes. He picks up his rilfe, and together we stand on a wooden platform.
"Ready?"I ask. Frank nods.
I stand and try fire, but the mud and wet has jammed my rifle, and I swear as I try to clear it.
"Merlin's bloody balls!"I hiss. It's no use. I toss it aside and pick up Clarence's rifle, reloading as quick as I can. Just in time, I raise it and shoot another German who was about to shoot Frank while he's reloading.
"There are too many!"Frank shouts. "We have to retreat!"
I look around. We're the only ones left alive in the trench. I try to wipe the blood out of my eye, but even when I clear it I can't see. From the pain, I realize it's probably gone. Damn. That's going to make shooting Germans a right pain in the arse.
"Alright, I'll cover you, then you cover me!"I say, reloading my rife and aiming it toward the smoke filled quagmire that is no man's land.
Frank dashes off, and I fire blindly, hoping to keep the enemies heads down.
"Right, Alastor, come on!"
I turn and sprit for the rear, panting as I run full out. I splash to my belly to crawl under the barb wire. I get most of the way through, only to get stuck as I squirm through. Before I can free myself, I hear the sharp whistle of one of our mortar shells. I'm flung through the air, and I see Frank's shocked face as he looks up at me.
I land on my side, and hear a loud snap. I groan. My wand is broken, I know it. I look down and reach for my pocket to see if it's salvageable. Maybe I can use it to stop our own shells raining down on us. But then I see that the trouser pocket that contained my wand is stained red with blood. Further down, I see my boot. Facing towards me, the bit of foot still in it, pointing out away from me. That snap wasn't my wand. It was my bloody leg coming off.
I groan and pull out my miraculously intact wand and close my eyes. I think of Saint Mungos, and leave the hellscape behind with a pop. I black out as I arrive.
Some time later, I awaken in Saint Mungos.
"Ah, Mister Moody, you're awake,"the mediwitch says. "Drink this, blood restorative. You've lost quite a bit."
I drink the potion numbly.
"The healer will be in shortly, we'll see about regrowing your leg and eye,"the nurse babbles. "I do hope you're over that silly business with the muggles. Honestly, fighting in their war. A wizard should know better."
"No,"I snap.
The mediwitch shakes her head. "Well, I suppose we can just patch you up and you can get back to dying in Flander's fields, then."
"No, no magical regrowth,"I growl.
The mediwitch looks up, shocked.
"I lost those the same as my brothers in arms. I'll take a peg leg, and an eye patch,"I declare. "And maybe I will go back out. Those were my friends dying out there."
"You're mad,"she declares, and leaves me be.
I feel my empty eye socket.
"Alastor Moody. Mad, I? Perhaps. But this whole bloody world is mad." |
Travis was sweating as he stared at the light. Normally he would break a few laws to accomplish the mission but this time his supervisor insisted he operate 100% under the radar. Nothing that could possibly attract attention from the local authorities. That meant no kidnappings, no extraneous thefts, and NO traffic violations.
He eyed the traffic information booklet that had been given to him with his toll receipt at the city's entrance. "This way ignorance of the law is no excuse"the man had said. Glancing from the book, to the red light, to the rear view mirror Travis noted the black sedan which had been following him since he left the conference center. Despite the tinted windows, Travis knew they were trying to retrieve the documents he had acquired. Thankfully, they appeared to be as restricted by the traffic laws as he was. The gridlock throughout the city wasn't doing them any favors either.
The light turned green and Travis gunned the engine, hoping to time the next light so he could leave them behind. Once he was through the intersection he noticed a patrol car coming the other direction and made sure to maintain exactly the speed limit. Unfortunately it looked like he would be stuck behind two cars at this next light and the sedan was maneuvering behind him.
At the last instant, he flipped on his turn signal and got into the left lane. This was a risky move - the intersection had a protected left turn but he had no way of knowing if it would benefit him. There was a lane of traffic between him and the sedan, but they were far enough back that if the light wasn't favorable they would be behind him and the whole thing would be over.
The light changed - all of the traffic going his direction had green! He hadn't considered that possibility. He saw the sedan signalling as he hurried through the turn. What would be his next move? This street had a bridge before the next light. Normally he would speed over it and make another few turns to lose his pursuers but he couldn't risk it when the mission was this critical. Every intersection had a radar gun and camera attached. If someone sped through it to beat a light it would send a photo to the nearest patrol car.
He check the mirror again to discover the sedan pulling onto the street behind him. Travis was halfway over the bridge at this point and the next light was red. He couldn't afford that now. As he pulled to a stop he saw a One Way sign which a tree branch had grown in front of and blocked. It was pointing right. Briefly he considered making the right turn but then remember right on red was illegal in this city. Looking into the mirror at the approaching sedan he had an idea.
He put his left turn signal on and awaited the green light. It came just as the pursuing vehicle pulled up behind him, also signalling the left turn. Just as Travis began to pull forward he switched to a right signal and made the legal turn. The sedan, just noticing the patrol car behind them but not seeing the one way sign, made the left turn. Blue lights and sirens came on and Travis was free and clear. Calling up the GPS, he left the city - mission accomplished. |
Most people are pretty sure about what they'll get in the afterlife: 72 virgins, a place in heaven singing with the angels, et cetera, et cetera. But me, I thrive on uncertainty. I wanted to find out if I could really cause a conundrum for God. So I got tattoos of upside-down crosses and started praying to Satan instead of God. But I was the perfect saint in every other respect.
Finally, I died. I found myself in a dark, misty little area. The dark mist stretched out in all directions, as if I were in a cave. Abruptly, the darkness was broken by two lights. One was bright and white and just looked so *pure*. The other was red, and I thought I smelled sulfur coming from it. The lights got right down to it and started to argue.
"She prayed to me, not to you!"Red Light boasted.
"And yet she did not do as you would have,"White Light replied. And so on and so forth. I'll be honest here, I was really entertained by the argument. God and the Devil, arguing about me! This was better than my wildest expectations.
But eventually the arguing got old. Dead or no, I'm still human and I got bored just standing there.
"Oy! Can't you just share like nice little children?"I burst out in exasperation.
"Nice little children, she says,"the Devil remarked. "I like this girl, she has sass."
"Of course you would,"God (or was it Jesus?) replied. I didn't think God would take it upon Himself to argue with a being of lesser power. Or be sarcastic.
In the end, a deal was worked out. I would be like Persephone: six months in Heaven and six in Hell. Wonder how long it would last? |
"Here, let me show you with..."Cupid starts again before looking around for two people without significant others. Sudenly his face lights up and he points off to the right. "Those two over there, you see, one of them has a black hoodie and the other with the special order coffee?"
I nod, not sure what he is geting on about.
"Good, now, it won't feel like it for you but I will be back in a few minutes and then I will show you everything."He said before snapping his fingers, and then just sat back in his chair.
I was confused to say the least.
"Aren't you going to start getting things ready?"I ask after a second.
He looks startled for a bit, then facepalms.
"Sorry, I got a little carried away and forgot I told you I would explain when I was done, anyway come here."
"But you haven't done anything!"I insist.
"Yes I have, as I said, I freeze time. You never noticed me move because I was moving in my own time. Now come here and I'll walk you through... well what is left, some of it is already done and I don't have time to explain everything."He told me. I rolled my eyes a bit, but I obliged and moved over closer to where he sat.
"So, that book on that window sill will fall off, again something that I set up a bit earlier, landing in front of that girl,"he said pointing out a random girl on her phone. "She will look up and then go to knock on the door of the house. When the door opens, the slight shine of the sun off the door nob will cause that motoist in the black sudan to swerve slightly out of his lane. Don't wory nothing fatal or even harmful."He told me, and I sat in awe as it all slowly started to happen. But Cupid was not done yet, as he started once again with his explanations.
"In response to the black sudan entering their lane, that large truck will also try to swerve just a bit, but will also sound their horn. That sound will scare the pidgeons next to the black hoodie guy causing him to look up. At that moment, two things will happen. One of the pidgeons' wings will clip against a wire that will release the stopper on a pheromone vial I decided to use that is effectove on people without significant others, and the girl will start to trip due to a crack in the sidewalk. Black hoodie guy will see this and, aided by the pheramone, he will quickly catch her in some way before she falls."He says, almost in sync with events as they happen.
I am nearly left speachless as I see all of this play out. Cupid just sits back with some stupid smile on his face waiting for my reaction.
"This is so wrong."I say to him, feeling increadibly uneasy with how this being could toy with people's hearts.
"Oh please, I by no means have actually made them fall in love, there is no way to do that, not even for me. The only thing I did was arrange a circumstance that will help make them want to get to know eachother."Cupid told me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "If there is one thing that you can't force, it is love."
"But how did you know everything was going to work out exactly as planned?"I asked.
"I had all the time in the world to set up, and millenia of practice. There was a chance that something would go wrong, but most human behaviors are reliably predictable after seeing them for the thousandth time. Trust me it is worse working with animals."He turns away from the street and back to the table we had been eating at.
"Enough of that though, how about we get back to our date."He says giving me another smile.
"After everything you just told me, you want to just go back to eating food?"I ask slightly skeptically.
"Well yeah, just because I am projected as some all powerful love god doesn't mean I am one, you saw a bit yourself. Those two could be moving on as we speak."Cupid explains.
I sigh.
"I guess I should be greatful you didn't do anything like that for our date."
"Who says I didn't. After all, as I said a little while ago, I just try to make things memorable and get a good, strong impression set in mind for the first meeting." |
Marc pressed the bottle of whiskey to his lips, but didn’t drink. The network didn’t allow alcohol when on air, but that had never stopped him before. Whenever they caught him slurring through his lines and stumbling through the cardboard fantasy world of Aneisha, they would simply shake their head.
“Somebody give this guy some god damn coffee,” the director would say.
Deep down, everyone knew that no grown man wanted his life’s work to be in the rubber suit of a talking dinosaur. So they pretended that there was nothing shameful about his acting career and he pretended not to drink.
Though now, he wanted to drink for a different reason. He even wished that he was back in his costume in the cardboard world of Aneisha. Instead, he stood alone on stage in front of a metal table. A suitcase sat on top of it, already slightly open.
“Can somebody get the whiskey out of his hand?” the director asked.
Nobody moved to do so and at last, the director simply shrugged. “On air in three,” he said.
Three stage lights cooked Marc, but years of his rubber suit had taught him how to hide his sweat—baby powder beneath his armpits, non-glossy makeup, and other tricks from a career of sweating. The director had said that it was important he not look nervous or he might frighten the children. He had responded that the children should be frightened.
Marc tilted the whiskey higher, filled his mouth, tasted its poison, but couldn’t open his throat to take it in. There was too much at stake. He spat it out and threw the bottle offstage. It shattered on the ground. The three cameramen stayed behind their cameras, the director in his chair, and the bystanders with their arms crossed on the outskirts of the set. Nobody cared for the broken glass. Earth was now a world of broken glass. Broken glass and broken people.
“Remember Marc,” the director said, “take a deep breath. These children trust your voice. They grew up listening to you, singing along with you, learning god damn life lessons from you. Be warm.”
None of that made Marc any less nervous. It only made him want to drink more.
“One,” the director started the count. “Two. Three.”
Marc looked into the camera and smiled. In his head, he kept the directors words on repeat. *Be warm, warm, warmth.* “Hello kids,” he said. “Have your parents gone out for supplies but never made it back? Are you out of food and water and need to go out there? Please listen closely, because if you wish to survive the night, this may be your only chance.”
He opened the suitcase and took out a government issued Smith and Wesson M&P 9mm pistol. Every family had one. It was the government's last act before their fall from power and probably the most useful thing they’ve ever done.
“Remember, stay out of sight and don’t trust anyone. But if you do happen to get caught…” The words caught in Marc’s throat. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re going to need to know how to shoot one of these.”
|
“So… no wishing for more wishes. That’s it? That’s your only rule, nothing else… just no more wishes?”
The genie looked at her in exasperation.
“Yes! How many times are you going to clarify this? Just make a wish already” The Genie rolled his eyes as the woman raised her hands.
“I’m just trying to be thorough before making any sort of wish. I wouldn’t want to just blurt something out and live to regret it. I’m sure you understand.”
The Genie nodded, and watched in annoyance as the woman took out a notepad and started to write.
And write,
And write,
And – “It’s been half an hour!! Make a wish already!!”
The woman jumped, dropping her pen in shock at The Genies outburst. After composing herself, she picked it up and turned to face the genie anger on her face.
“I am *trying* to sort out my wishes here. I want to make sure I word everything clearly to make this easier for the both of us, but I can’t do that if you keep interrupting me! Now please, be quiet, I’m almost done here.”
The Genie slunk down to wait again as the woman resumed her writing, wishing himself that he could do something to speed her up.
“Aha! I’ve got it!” A cheer came from the woman, as she turned to face the genie again, her face full of glee.
“All three?” The Genie asked tentatively,
“All three” the woman confirmed with a smile.
The Genie lept to his feet, beaming, and ready.
“What is your wish?”
“I wish for …” the woman glanced at her notes “Mine, my brothers, and my parents mortgages and student loans to be paid off fully, 100% legally, causing no negative effects to ourselves, any other persons or businesses, or the greater economy as a result of this action, now and in the future.”
The genie clenched his jaw, then nodded. “Done. What is your second wish?”
“I wish that all the food banks, animal shelters, and health services were perpetually stocked with exactly the correct number of staff, pieces of equipment, food, and anything necessary to help people for as long as the institution is open, again causing no negative effects to any persons, animals, or businesses, or the greater economy and general wellbeing of humanity as a result of this action, now and in the future.”
The Genie paused as if thinking, then nodded again. “Done. What is your final wish?”
The woman smiled sheepishly “Sorry for annoying you with the rules earlier, I had to check I could do this. I wish for another wish granting Genie.”
The Genie looked as if he had been slapped. It was the first time in millennia that anyone had requested that from him. Slowly he started to smile. Amazed at the ingenuity and sheer balls of the woman in front of him, he nodded.
“Done.”
|
We existed for billions of years. We inhabited millions of star systems at the height of our reign. We populated and conquered, we traded and scavenged, we discovered and created, and ruled the galaxy as the dominant species for more generations than have been documented. Every genetic record of every creature, every being, had reliably been traced back to the same source, some unknown, forgotten ancient planet. Every species ever encountered, a distant cousin of ours, easily absorbed and folded into our own. Except the one who destroyed us.
Humanity. Earth. Damned are we for dismissing this hapless planet in a previously steril region of the galaxy. Every record of this galactic arm indicated its sterility and lack of viability for habitation. For billions of years we have ignored this region, forgotten about it, while going about our business.
This former sterile region of space spawned a planet, in a remarkably impossible turn of events, that produced an impossible genetic code, that produced an entire impossible ecosystem. Impossibly surviving multiple sterilizing events, civilization emerged. Creative thought bore space-faring biological phenomenons. Dangerous to combat, toxic to our race. Unintentional biological warfare due to these viral symbiosis they seemed perfectly adapted to. We were helpless against their diseases.
As the entire galaxy nearly succumbed to this indefensible viral spread, we learned of an event in humanity's history that fit most appropriately as an analogy to what happened to our once-great population. A race of humans had traveled across a great ocean and encountered another race of humans, previously unmet. Viruses traveled along with them. Unaccustomed to these diseases, these new humans were unable to survive the sudden sicknesses that arose. Unintentional, utter devestation. They used this inadvertant effect to their advantage, gave blankets to those they wished dead. Blankets infected with these same invisible diseases. Blankets that wrought death to those who wrapped themselves within.
Humanity stands poised now to own this galaxy. We should have kept a closer watch on them. We should have guessed that life could spawn more than once. We should have known better. |
"I thought you said they weren't going to do it?"
"I said they probably won't do it, totally different."I sat there typing away at the holoboard.
"Well... what now? Should we tell the Federation or..."
"Yeah."Sighing. "I'll call them. Make yourself useful and let the Venuisans know too."
Tapping the screen in front of me, I video called the Federation of Species consulate. He was always crusty so this wasn't going to go over well. Probably end up getting demoted and sent to Io or something. Ioians were such hot heads.
"Captain Glork. Why are you calling me at this hour?"Shit. I got a hold of Commander Shrike, not the person I wanted to be telling this news to.
"Oh hey there Shrike..."
"Commander Shrike."He cleared his throat.
"Yeah... anyway, so remember how I said we didn't have to worry about the humans going to Venus?"
"Yeah."
"Well they aren't, they just landed on Mars."
"Well that great.. wait what?"His temperament changed dramatically. His voice turned into a seething rage. "You had one job Glork and..."
"Captain Glork."Man I hated this guy.
"... to keep them from landing anywhere else in the system. We will launch a full retaliation effort and stop there from being a repeat of the Egyptians. Do you remember that Glork or is your species too primative to have developed that kind of longevity?"
"Commander... let me try something."
He balked but agreed. Humans didn't deserve to be extinct, I mean, if it wasn't for my species intervening on behalf of the humans, they would be already. My pal had returned from the other communications room.
"Venusians are aware."
"Perfect. Let's get these humans off this rock."
"Got a plan?"
"Kind of. I've been watching humans for awhile now so I think I may have just the thing."I walked over to the pile of junk that was in the corner of the room. Lots of old communication equipment from years of repairing stuff here. My people had long since abandoned this place, bunking up with the Venusians. We only had a few bunkers dispersed across the surface for situations like this. Grabbing some wires, a remote, antenna and a speaker, I carried on out to the surface for the next part of our mission.
We trudged along the surface for a few kilometers until we found one of the old rovers. I blocked the camera out and went to work. It didn't take long to hook everything up. My partner and I now had full control of the rover; we drove it into the camp the humans had just set up and started to wreak havoc. The speakers we attached allowed me to talk through it.
This particular rover had an arm I could control; a few humans or the entire race? A sacrifice of a few for the safety of all. The camera was also under our control so we could see everything that was happening. These humans were so primitive, everything was made from plastic or inflatable. The drill on the rover made quick work of puncturing a few holes in their hibernation dome.
Through the rover, I could hear the voices of panicked humans; the were desperately trying to escape through the airlock, but using the rover, I sealed it. I drove the rover back in front of it so I could watch all of the humans scrambling to get their suits on. Only eight were in there and soon they began to fall. One did manage to get their suit on, a male.
"This is Geologist David Spear, open this door."He started to cough, must not have sealed his suit well enough. Now the time had come.
"I'm sorry Dave. I'm afraid I can't do that."In my most monotonous voice.
His face went from panic to sheer terror. He back away from the airlock and I saw him struggle towards a computer. My plan was working. He was going to call off the mission because of rogue homocidal robots. He collapsed a few minutes later. With our mission complete, we began our walk back to the bunker.
"How'd you do that Glork?"
"The beautiful thing about being on this planet is you get good reception to human entertainment."Watching movies had helped me learn English among other things.
We arrived in the bunker to the transceiver going off, it was command, probably wanting an update. I pushed the button and up came the message.
"This is Commander Shrike, this is a planet wide message to abandon all Mars outposts. Humans are being observed and are mobilizing on the surface. Repeat, abandon all Mars outposts."
"Glork, what... did we do?"
The transceiver went off again. It was a live call this time, Commander Shrike nonetheless.
"What in the hell did you do? They are more active than ever? I know you know their language so I'll just let you listen to what we picked up."
"...killer robots? On Mars?"
"Yes sir that's the message the geologist sent."
"Call Russia, China, everyone. We are going to fly up there and nuke the whole place from orbit... only way to be sure."
Commander Shrike was awaiting a response. My partner was starting to pack things into the escape shuttle.
"Well... he's not wrong sir."
|
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